Opening Up
Working with the inmates at the Metropolitan Corrections Facility was entirely more rewarding than she expected it to be. Although her first day in the building was filled with getting to meet the men that she would be visiting often, her orientation had just begun. She didn’t want her experience in the prison to be a waste. She wanted to experience it all, as closely as she could without actually being incarcerated herself.
The next time she found herself at the facility, she arrived around noon. When she stumbled into Dr. Anderson’s office, she asked when they would be beginning their next creative period. This was a term that she liked using better than ‘lessons’, because again, she wasn’t a teacher. She was an artist that just wanted to help people.
“Not right now,” the older man started, getting up from his desk. He began neatly organizing the papers on his desk until he was satisfied. “It’s time for lunch.”
The word ‘lunch’ made her stomach grumble. She’d been so busy planning the day that she had barely eaten breakfast, and entirely forgot about lunch. The older doctor smirked at her and nodded his head towards the door, motioning her to come with him to the cafeteria. As they made their way to the mess hall, she’d be lying if she said that her expectations for the prison food were high. Had she had any prior experience? Well… no. But somehow in movies and TV shows, there was always some sort of gruel that barely resembled food.
When they walked into the large area, Jessie was immediately hit with the smell of something homemade. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but it smelled amazing. Charlie seemed to be looking at her from the corner of his eye, a playful smirk on his lips at the girl’s surprised reaction to the food court. They weaved through the crowds of people in the room, which was polkadotted by armed guards who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. When the pair made it to the other side of the cafeteria, they waited patiently in line for their allotted servings of food.
“This is… so not like anything I expected,” Jessie thought out loud.
The seasoned doctor next to her chuckled.
“It’s not always like everything you see in the movies, kid. Our cooks here could probably out-do some of the fancy chefs in these New York restaurants if they wanted to.”
Jessie was then handed a plastic tray that had a few different things on it: some sort of gratin, a styrofoam bowl with what looked like chicken and vegetable soup, accompanied by a few salted crackers, a plastic baggie of apple slices, and a chicken sandwich that was dressed with lettuce and a slice of tomato. Her culture shock was clear as day to anyone that was looking at her. Dr. Anderson muttered something to her about the importance of food groups in the prison and how he and other professionals in the building fought to make that a priority.
Unbeknownst to her, a semi-familiar pair of blue eyes found themselves wandering across the mess hall when they landed on the petite brunette. The girl seemed to be thoroughly examining the food on her tray with delight. He felt a small pull at his lips as he watched the girl find an empty table to sit at with the familiar psychiatrist. His long-distance observing was interrupted by a small group of other inmates that decided to stand right in his line of vision, blocking Dr. Jessie Alexander from his sight. He huffed out an annoyed sigh and went back to taking bites of his own food.
—
After lunch, Dr. Anderson decided that it would be good for Jessie to get an official tour of the facility, especially the areas that the inmates frequented. He guided her through the yard, which consisted of a basketball court and a large patch of grey-ish green grass. A few of the inmates were in the middle of a basketball game, passing around a worn out ball that hadn’t been the usual bright orange in quite some time.
Their next touring spot was the commons area that held each inmate’s sleeping quarters. Small, closet-like rooms contained a bunk bed or a single bed and had a few personal decorations from each resident of the facility. Some rooms had photographs of family members taped to the wall, while some of them had trinkets scattered on a shelf. One of the rooms was practically empty, minus a floating shelf that housed a small collection of books. Each spine was a different color, decorated with the lettering of the book’s name and the author of it. She could make out familiar names such as Hemingway, Poe, and Austen.
As Charlie explained the living quarters situation to her, Jessie found herself peeking into the room with books. It contained a single bed as well, and that was about it. The blanket from the cot was nearly folded up and placed atop the pillow, which hardly looked like it had been touched.
Either the occupant of this room just never slept, or they were particularly anal about having their space be organized. She wondered who this room belonged to. She then began to wonder… which room belonged to James. She’d only met a handful of the inmates that she would be working with so far, but the silent man seemed to leave more of an impression on her than the others did.
Jessie snapped back to reality and found that she had not been listening to what her psychiatrist guide had been saying. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. An older man passed by them, nodding his head at the pair in a greeting.
“Hey, doc,” the man said.
“Afternoon, Earl. Staying out of trouble?” Charlie asked.
The older man let out a laugh and replied with something that Jessie didn’t quite catch as the distance between them grew. Her newfound-colleague let out a tired sigh.
“Some of these folks have been here a long time. Too long, unfortunately.”
Jessie was silent. She nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t really know what else to say. She didn’t know their stories, the reasons why these people were here. And it wasn’t her business, either. If any of her future “patients” felt like confiding in her and sharing that information, then they could, but she promised herself that she would not go digging into their records without their permission.
“And now for our next stop, the library.”
This brought a smile to her face. Before she wanted to pursue a career in the creative realm, she swore to herself that she wanted to write a dozen books and become a famous author.
Charlie marched down the halls and corridors, making sure to keep the young woman in his peripheral sight. Jessie wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting, but it surely wasn’t the room they stumbled upon. The term “library” was generous, she assumed they’d have something similar to what most public schools have, but it was a room a bit smaller than the space she’d been given at the facility.
Sure, there were bookshelves scattered along the walls, but they were obviously secondhand. If she was being honest, some of them looked to be third-hand. She cracked a smile at her own silly joke. As her eyes searched the makeshift library, her gaze fell onto a familiar figure that was curled up in a well worn armchair. His usual shoulder-length hair was pushed back behind his ears as he focused on the book in his hands. James hadn’t noticed that he had an audience with his nose buried into the hardback novel he was clutching. Hell, he hadn’t noticed anyone in the room, considering he was far too used to being the only person that would spend much time in the library.
Jessie felt a small smile make its way to her face as she observed him. She couldn’t tell what he was reading based on the angle that he was holding the book, but the puzzle pieces were starting to connect.
The room with the books was his.
This made her that much more curious about him. What she wouldn’t give to have a conversation with him that was more than one-sided. Well, maybe eye contact was his method of speaking, but even then, that was a bit of a struggle for him to accomplish, at least with her. Not that he’d ever admit that.
“Mr. Barnes, what a surprise to find you here,” Dr. Anderson’s words had a hint of playful sarcasm to them, alerting the younger man of their presence.
His head shot up, nearly startled at the sound of another’s voice. He quickly recovered, fast enough that he was certain that nobody had picked up on his heightened heart rate. He gave the pair a curt nod as a greeting. Jessie attempted to strike up a conversation with the man as well.
“Whatcha reading, James?” She asked politely.
Not that she’d be able to tell, but the sound of her voice caused goosebumps to form across his skin. Especially because she was directly acknowledging him. He lifted the book up a bit to show the bright yellow cover of a paperback book. She let out a nearly-silent sigh, assuming that this would be the only answer she’d get from the man.
So, he’s not much of a talker, she thought to herself.
But his next actions squashed her assumptions.
“90 Days of Rice, R. Jackson Scott,” he started. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the sound of his gravelly voice. It sent chills down her spine.
“It’s about the life of a World War II prisoner in a Japanese concentration camp. Books like these are a reminder that the evils of previous political leaders weren’t that long ago.”
James looked at her with curious eyes, awaiting her reaction. She felt as if he was looking right through her.
“Is this something you like reading about?” She asked.
His semi-friendly body language gave her enough courage to test the waters, and step away from the comfort of the doorway and Dr. Anderson. She walked towards him slowly, mentally cursing herself for almost treating him like a timid animal that could bite if startled. Her target was another torn up chair a few feet away from where the mysterious man was sitting.
“World War II has always been a fascination of mine,” Jessie started. “I almost got my degree in it before deciding to switch to a more creative outlet.”
He nodded, observing the petite woman as she sat down in the chair next to him. His eyes followed her movements, watching as she temporarily pulled her hair back before placing it over her shoulder.
“Historical fiction that’s based on real experiences are a favorite, I guess,” he responded, not looking away from her deep green eyes.
She brought an elbow up on the arm of the chair, and leaned to rest her chin on her hand. Still, he watched her very closely.
“That’s really interesting. I’d love to hear more.”
For the first time since meeting him, she saw the stoic man crack a small smile. He indulged her request for a little while, but was still cautious in sharing too much about his interests. Still, the two quietly chatted, seeming to be in their own little world, so much so that they’d forgotten the presence of Dr. Anderson in the room.