Chapter 5 - THE CELL BLOCK REUNION
Two months later.
The visitor’s room at the Suffolk County High-Security Correctional Facility was cold, sterile, and smelled faintly of floor wax and old copper.
A thick panel of bulletproof glass separated the visitors from the inmate cubicles.
I sat on a wooden stool on the visitor's side, wearing a simple gray cashmere sweater, waiting quietly with my hands folded in my lap.
The heavy steel door on the inmate side clicked open.
A correctional officer led Daniel Cross into the cubicle.
He was unrecognizable. His designer haircut had been shaved into a rough, buzz-cut military crop. He wore an oversized, faded orange jumpsuit with his state inmate number stenciled across his chest in black block letters. His face was thin, pale, and covered in nervous scratches, his hands shaking violently as the officer unlocked his wrist chains and pointed to the metal stool.
Daniel sat down slowly, his eyes wide and terrified as he picked up the gray plastic telephone receiver on his side of the glass.
I picked up my receiver and held it to my ear.
"Clara..." Daniel whispered through the static of the line, his voice cracked and trembling like a child’s. "Clara... thank God you came. Please... please tell me you're here to sign the bail bond."
"I'm not here to sign a bail bond, Daniel," I said softly, my voice completely devoid of malice, but cold as ice. "I'm here to serve you with our final divorce decree."
Daniel slammed his hand against the bulletproof glass, leaving a greasy palm print. "Clara! You can't leave me in here! It's a nightmare! The guys in my block... they know who my father was! They make me clean the mess hall floors with a toothbrush every night!"
I looked at him through the glass without blinking.
"Cleaning floors, Daniel?" I asked quietly. "Does it feel dirtier than holding your wife still while your mother sprays chemical disinfectant into her face?"
Daniel winced, pulling his hand back from the glass, his shoulders trembling with deep, pathetic sobs.
"I didn't know!" he begged, his forehead pressing against the cold glass. "I swear I didn't know she was going to spray you! I thought she was just going to scare you! She’s my mother, Clara! I spent my whole life doing whatever she told me to do so she wouldn't cut me off!"
"And that made you a coward, Daniel," I said clearly. "A coward who stood by while a monster hurt the woman he swore to protect twenty-four hours earlier."
"Where is she?" Daniel choked out, looking around nervously as if his mother might appear behind him. "Where is my mother?"
"Vivian was transferred to the Framingham State Women's Correctional Facility yesterday," I informed him smoothly. "She was sentenced to six years after pleading guilty to felony chemical assault. She tried to demand a private room and a personal assistant during her intake processing. They gave her a broom and assigned her to the laundry detail."
Daniel covered his face with his orange sleeves, weeping loudly into the plastic phone receiver.
"Your father has declared personal bankruptcy, Daniel," I continued, reading from a small piece of paper in my purse. "He sold the Marblehead estate last week to pay for your criminal defense team. He’s currently living in a rented studio apartment in Quincy, working as a night manager at a used car lot."
Daniel looked up at me, his eyes hollow and completely empty. "We have nothing left... nothing."
"You have six years in state prison to think about how you treat people who have 'no money,' Daniel," I said.
I picked up a pen from my bag, signed the final page of the divorce petition, and pressed it against the glass for him to see.
May you like
"The judge signed the dissolution of our marriage this morning," I said, setting the phone receiver back onto its metal cradle. "I am no longer Clara Cross. I never really was."
I stood up from the wooden stool, buttoned my gray coat, and walked out of the visitor’s room without looking back once at the man sobbing against the glass behind me.
