I couldn’t coexist with a man who let his wife feel like she was scum for who she was. I couldn’t coexist with beliefs that Tori should be excommunicated from everything she knew just because of who she was attracted to.
She straightened her shoulders. “It’s my choice to be here. I need to do this, Mae. I need to at least try. Maybe I’m not gay and it was just her I couldn’t resist.”
I could hear the lie in her voice. “I want you to come home with me. If Will and your family won’t accept you, I always will. No matter what.”
“You say that now, but—”
“There is no buts! I’ve had enough proof to accuse you of killing Jayela for days now, and yet I didn’t go to the police. That’s how much I believe in you. In your heart. I don’t want you to change! I don’t want a watered-down version of you because you’re so miserable you can barely function. You’re as much my sister as she was. I can’t lose you both.”
We both broke down in tears, holding each other in the small bathroom. It was minutes before she pulled back. “I need to try, okay? I’ll get my phone back somehow and I’ll answer it next time you call. Or I’ll call you. But I need to stay here.”
In my heart, I knew she was right. It wouldn’t work, but she needed to feel like she’d given it everything she could. She needed to take that shot at having the life she’d always thought she’d have.
All I could do was nod and say, “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
28
Mae
I didn’t go home after seeing Tori. I needed some time and space to breathe, so I went straight to work and sat in my empty classroom, half putting together work for the next few weeks and half thinking about my best friend.
Sadness crept over me, for her and for Jayela. For the fact they hadn’t been able to tell anyone about their relationship. Tori had only ever gotten to grieve as Jayela’s friend. Not as her partner. She needed that time. Maybe being at the center would at least give her that.
I tried to fix my face into something neutral as the men all filed into class. But none of them paid me any attention. There was an excitement around them, and they yelled over the top of each other, all buzzing over something.
I glanced at Martine, my guard for the evening, but she didn’t seem interested. She read a book at the back of the classroom like she didn’t have a care in the world.
I clapped my hands together, calling for the men to settle, but it had little effect. Martine eventually took pity on me, put two fingers in her mouth, and let out an ear-piercing whistle by blowing around them. “Your teacher is trying to speak. So sit down and shut up.”
They grumbled, but they did settle into their usual spots.
I wandered to the center of the classroom, but the hum of chatter remained. “Okay. Something has happened obviously. One of you has two minutes to fill me in on what’s going on. We’ll discuss it as a class for five, and then we’re going to put it to bed until you’re outside my classroom. Capiche?”
“Capiche,” they replied as one.
I pointed to a big man in the front row who’d seemed to be the most animated during their discussion. His name was Markus, and he was terrifying to look at, but despite his appearance, he was a bit of a teddy bear.
He sat back on his chair now, his eyes animated.
I almost laughed. These men loved nothing more than fresh prison gossip. I couldn’t blame them, really. There wasn’t much else to do in here. “Okay, tell me what the gossip is.”
“Psych Ward lost a prisoner.”
I squinted. “They lost one? How do you lose a prisoner, exactly?”
The class erupted with theories on what was going on behind the locked doors, but I waved at them all to shut up and let Markus continue.
“Happened a few days back, apparently. He’s just gone. Poof! Disappeared. I reckon one of the officers killed him and they’re covering it up.”
Psych Ward had been oddly locked down, even to staff, last week when Rowe and I had tried to drop off work for Vincent. “I highly doubt one of the officers killed an inmate and then tried to cover it up by saying they lost him, Markus.”
He raised one shoulder. “Stranger things have happened.”
He wasn’t wrong there. There was a lot that happened in this prison behind closed doors. I was proof of that.
I glanced around at the other men, all patiently waiting for their turns. The corner of my lip lifted into a smile. I’d trained them well. This was actually a functioning class these days, full of students who respected me and the rules. The proof of that was in the way Martine practically took a nap in the back corner now. Rowe still wouldn’t have been as relaxed, but he was personally involved.
Pride washed over me as I picked a few more men to tell the gossip they’d heard. I’d promised a five-minute discussion, so that’s what we were going to get. Little did they know, that things like this actually taught arguing skills, so while they thought they were just gossiping, I guided the conversation so they argued two sides.
I pointed to an inmate in the back row. “What else might have happened? If you were a lawyer, debating this case, what evidence could you bring forward?”
“He might have escaped.”
But then one of the other guys scoffed, “Without any sign of it? You saw what happened when Michaelson escaped. We went into lockdown, there were police helicopters, reporters. A prisoner escapes just a couple of weeks later, and there’s no word about it? Nuh. No chance. It would have been all over the news. They killed him for sure.”
“He could be hiding somewhere!” another prisoner shouted.
“For an entire week? How many places to hide are there in Psych? Isn’t it all bare white walls and no furniture in case they try to hang themselves?”