Jason picked up the camera and the tripod. The man in the white shirt moved toward the recorder and she looked up again.
“Psst, psst,” insisted the call. She found it, the voice, in the cell on the second row. The lower half of the cell was covered with a sheet, a privacy constructed by the man within. She smiled a greeting.
Then, she saw it. His penis was poked through a hole in the sheet, full and red. He was masturbating. She saw his eyes as he watched over the top of the sheet. They were wide and staring, floating above the white sheet. She turned away and quickly followed after Jason.
“Bye, lady, bye-bye,” cried the voice from the darkest corner of the cells.
She walked into the sunlight.
“We’ll go up to the activity rooms,” their man was saying. “You know, we’ve got our own television station, right here. Only problem is nobody really knows what to do with it. We have a prison news show, stories about classes and things that are going on. They really like that.” He and Jason walked ahead.
*
“Stop, stop, please,” she pleaded. “Please stop now.”
“Sure, okay,” he said, and turned the van onto the shoulder of the desert highway.
She ran a few steps, bent over and vomited.
“Oh, God,” she gagged. “Oh, God, please.”
“Debbie, what’s wrong? What can I do?” He stood behind her,
She waved him away. “Don’t look at me, please. Go back.”
“Debbie, please.” He moved to take her arm.
She shook her head and fell to her knees. She threw up again.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Get me something to wipe my mouth, please, Jason,” she said, reaching out one hand without turning her head.
He ran back to the van and grabbed a handful of the tissue sheets they used to clean the camera lens.
“I’m okay,” she told him as she wiped her mouth. “I am, really.”
She tried to laugh as she stood up and brushed at her skirt.
“I didn’t have anything to eat this morning. I guess I don’t feel so good.”
“You want to stop some place? A doctor, emergency room?”
“No, no,” she assured him as they got back in the van.
“We’ll get you something to eat,” he said. “Don’t worry. That’s what you need, food. Don’t worry about getting back to the station. Fuck that. I’m going to get you something to eat and then you can go home. I’ll take care of George.”
She leaned back in the seat. “No.” She sighed. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“Don’t argue with me, Debbie. I’m taking you home. Between the heat and that goddamn hole and not eating, you’ve made yourself sick.” His voice was strong, confident.
“Please don’t worry, Jason.”
“I am worried, damn it,” he shouted. “At least let me pull over for some coffee or something. A soda, that might be good. You might need some sugar, right?”
He gave her a quick worried look. Her eyes were closed, her head resting on the seatback.
“It was that place,” she said hoarsly. “It was so dark in there. It was so strange. It was like cages and animals. I just want to forget it.”
“Okay,” he said. “Right.”
He knew it. It was that place. Prisons could have that affect on you, like your first operation.
“I know what you mean. I hate these stories. I don’t feel so good myself and I’m so macho,” he joked. “Yeah, I’d rather cover a good cancer operation any day,” trying to make her laugh. But, he meant it. Cancer over prisons any day.
39
Four people came to group that night, the older woman, Jane the nurse, Terry the addict, and Debbie.
“I suppose we should start,” the doctor said.
“Where is everyone?” the older woman asked.
“I don’t know. No one called.” He gave them a tired smile.
Debbie tried to return it before going back to staring at her patch of the world beyond the small window.
“So, how is it going?” the doctor said to no one in particular.
“Fine,” Debbie said, making her voice bright. “Good.”
“I think my job is going to be better now,” the older woman said. “I think my boss is going to retire and that’s good news.”
They looked at her.
“It means I’ll be working for someone else. That’s got to be better.”
“Do you know for sure he’s leaving?” asked Debbie.
“No, but that’s what people are saying, that he is going to take early retirement.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Debbie asked gently, trying not to sound critical.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know.” The older woman’s eyes became confused, frightened.
“You don’t have to think about that now,” the doctor told her with a pointed look at Debbie.
“But I thought she was going to make a decision about her job,” the nurse joined in. “Him leaving doesn’t mean she’s made a decision, does it, Doctor?”
Terry moved on the couch, shifting his position, then shifting again.
“Why shouldn’t I hope he leaves,” the older woman asked. “What’s wrong with that? It would be easier for me.”
Debbie looked over at Terry. He had been off drugs for almost three months. Every session she told him how great that was. She felt proud of him and thought she may have helped him by being in the group.
“I gotta tell you,” Terry cut in. “I mean, I don’t have to but …” He looked at each of them before stopping at Debbie. “But, I am going to anyway.”
The black circles of his glasses faced her.
“I shot up before I came here. I am high right now,” he announced in a loud voice.
Debbie’s mouth fell open.
“Terry,” the doctor gasped.
Terry shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.
“No,” Debbie cried out. “That’s wrong. That’s all wrong.”
The others turned and stared.
“It’s wrong,” she told Terry angrily. “You are supposed to be stopping this. That’s why you are here and you’re high. You couldn’t wait an hour?”
“He did tell us, Debbie,” the older woman said strongly. “That counts.”
“That’s right, Debbie,” the doctor said with a look of doubt.
“That is not right,” she
