Chapter Fifty-Eight: "Prison Talk."
"JUSTIN! CASEY! Code black, code black!"
Immediately, their heads are turned to me. Their eyes are wide at my exclamation, and they jog away from the other students and race over to me.
"What?" Casey exclaims. "What's going on? Code black's haven't been said in over a year."
"I'm in huge shit." I hiss, trying to catch my breath from sprinting from one side of the school to the other, which, needless to say, is a good ten minute walk.
"Why's that?" Casey presses with a confused expression.
Clearly Justin didn't elaborate for our dear friend, but he definitely knows why I'm calling this code. Not exactly why, but he knows whom.
"We kissed." I say nervously, and Justin's eyes bug out of his head while Case still looks lost.
"Who?"
"Taylor and I." I snap. "In the hall."
"Taylor?" He repeats. "As in Taylor Taylor?"
"Yes!" I say.
"He kissed you?" Justin asks in shock.
"Yes. Well, no. No! I. . . I did it, but he leaned in first. But he had the exact same thought cause we did it both at once! So if I didn't, he would've anyway. Oh my God, guys I feel horrible!"
"Why? It was just a kiss, Brooklyn." Casey says calmly.
"But I have a boyfriend," I whine, "and I kissed him back." And I love Landon.
"Wait, no! What the fuck is he doing here?" Casey interrupts, finally processing what's happening.
"He was getting released sometime this week, you idiot." Justin says. "Didn't Lacey tell you?"
"No." He speaks. "Well, maybe. Probably, yeah, but who knows."
I roll my eyes. "Guys! Can we get back to the situation at hand?" I sigh, my chest heaving deeply. I feel a panic attack surging on, and it's been a little bit since I've had one.
"Whoa!" Justin exclaims, his arms reaching out for me. "Just breathe, Brooklyn, okay? Deep breaths."
I do as told, my breathing growing unstable until after a few minutes of breathing exercises it starts to stabilize. "Good?" Casey asks, blocking me from other students views.
I nod. "Yeah."
"So, anyway, what's so bad?" He asks.
"I have a boyfriend." I whine. "I cheated."
"Was it intentional?" Justin asks. "Did you know what you were doing?"
"Um, no." I say. "Not until the last minute."
"So it can't be that bad, babe. It's not like you were purposely trying to kiss him. Don't stress over it."
"But I am!" I snap. "I kissed him back! That's cheating. What do I do? What do I tell Landon?"
"You don't." Casey says. "It was once. It's not like it's gonna happen again. Right?"
I remain silent. My emotions are still all over the place, and I still have a sexual appetite. Taylor was the person who I did some dirty with. . . I got a feeling that if he were to ask, with my state, I'd not even think twice before accepting if it meant I could find a release.
"Brooklyn." He says in authoritative voice.
"I don't know." I grumble honestly. "I don't know what I'm going to do."
"Not kiss him back, I hope?"
Me too. "It's not that easy, Casey, and you know it."
"Yeah, but I didn't go around kissing girls while I had Lacey on my hip." He explains. "Look, just talk to him. Tell Landon if you think it's right, because it was an accidentâ"
"Yes!" I exclaim. "It was an accident. Unintentional. It happened in the moment. I was too overwhelmed."
"Right." He says deeply. "So tell Landon if it was the first and last time. However, I think you got a bigger problem on your hands if you think that you can't trust yourself in sake that you might repeat history."
I nod. "Thanks."
"Yeah." He smiles. "Now, c'mon. We're gonna start some volleyball, and you know how good my ass looks while doing volleys."
***
"Call me as soon as you get in, okay?" Lacey orders as I zip up the remnants of my clothes into a suitcase.
I chuckle, rolling my eyes and dragging my luggage to the door. "Lacey, I'll be two blocks away. It's not like I'm travelling very far; besides, Justin lives right down the road."
"You can't keep a girl from worrying no matter how many times you assure her." She deadpans. "I'm allowed to be worried about you."
I smile. "I'll see you tomorrow or Wednesday."
She pulls me into a hug, squeezing tight. "Don't do anything stupid, alright?"
"Okay." I say sternly. "Bye!"
"Bye Brookie."
I step outside her house, the cabbie coming out to assist me in putting my stuff in the truck. "Where to?" He asks politely when we get into the car. He's maybe in his thirties. Pretty attractive for someone whose stereotype is to be on the bulkier side of the scale and with an unshaven beard that's longer than Santa Clause's.
I give him my address, and a mere five minutes later we're pulling up my driveway. "Thank you." I smile. He nods in reply and I find myself leaving my bags on my porch as I rush down my driveway to the neighbours across the street, where the key to my house is held.
Arriving at their house, I bang on the door three times. Hopefully they're still up, even though it's about six in the afternoon. Dad apparently forgot to remind Ms. Jensen to give me the key, or she just forgot.
The door opens a mere minute later, and the elderly woman in front of me gasps as she takes me in. "You?" She says in shock.
Ms. Jensen is a total meanie, and she has something against me because it seems that once I hit puberty, she started to hate my every being.
"Jensen, hi!" I say curtly. "Listen up, you have my house key. Dad said he was going to tell you to give it to me the other day but he either forgot to, or you failed to remember."
"I didn't forget." She shrugs. "When did you come back?"
"Last weekend. Now can I please have the key?"
She grunts in response and closes the door right in my face.
I feel my blood start to boil. Is she really expecting me to walk away?
After a minute passes, I feel like I was right. I huff out in annoyance, stepping away to walk back to my house, when suddenly the door opens again and Ms. Jensen has an annoyed look on her face. I am easily returning the gesture. She's hard to get along with, she's your neighbour that's a witch. Trust me, everyone has that one neighbour that drives everyone on the block insane. Ms. Jensen is that person. Somehow or another, my parents actually managed to befriend the grump, which I guess gives us brownie pointsâexcept me. Considering I'm a teenager, I'm considered to be one of her resentments.
"Here." She deadpans, throwing the keys harshly in my hand. "Now get off my property."
I just stare at her, trying to understand how someone so innocent looking can be such a bitch. Coming up with nothing, I shrug, which I guess makes her even more mad as I swear her face turns red, and walk away.
Putting the key in the door, I unlock it and push it open, dragging my stuff along behind me.
I set up my laptop on the living room coffee table, alongside my phone and such. I quickly throw my bags and stuff in my room before making my way downstairs and sitting down, a bunch of notifications already popping up on my laptop screen, automatically connecting to my house's WiFi, which I guess is still in service.
A mix of euphoria and nostalgia overwhelms me and I feel my eyes brim with tears once I sit down and take my surroundings in. So many memories; good and bad, fun and not so fun. So many arguments, parties. . . so much everything.
I shoot Lacey an 'I'm home!' text and then pull open my FaceTime app on my laptop, automatically pulling up Landon's name and pressing the phone button.
I forgot to call Landon the other day, and with reading Taylor's article about him returning and actually running into him, I've been too busy mentally to even want to argue with him, let alone think straight.
And I need to tell him how I feel.
The ringing stops, and the connecting. . . indicator pops up, telling me he's answered.
The boy in front of me once the camera loads looks horrible.
Eyes baggy, glossy, bloodshot, and a stubble on his face; he looks like he's only recently emerged from Hell, which makes my stomach twist and turn in knots. It makes my heart crack a little bit.
Did I do this?
"Landon?" I ask, a slight gasp to my voice. God, he looks awful, and there's nothing I can do.
"Hey, Blue." He says. His voice is even raspy. Has he been crying, or is it a cold?
"What happened?" I ask softly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay." He says with a sigh. "How are you? How's home?"
I give him a sympathetic smile, and shrug. "Um. . . it's okay, I guess. So far, so good."
"Any hard times from students?"
"Nope." I answer honestly. "Everything is fine. Apparently, once I got outta prison, I got my rep back, and so did Taylor."
He looks a little weirded out and angry, and I need to find it in me to convince myself that it's not towards me. However, it doesn't work out all that well.
"Are you okay?" I ask worriedly. "You look. . . off."
"Yeah," he huffs, "I'm just trying to wrap my head around what you told me."
Right. My ultimate revelation then sudden departure without the chance to elaborate and left him hanging. How could I forget?
"Yeah," I say, rubbing my hand over my forehead. "I guess I should explain, huh?"
"I'd very much appreciate it, yes, but I understand why you wouldn't want to."
"Do I not peg you for a criminal?" I ask rhetorically.
"No," he chuckles. "Honestly, I pegged you as a shy sweetheart."
"Are you just sweet-talking me or do you actually mean it?" I kid.
"Mmm, a little bit of both," he blushes, "but more honesty than sweet-talk." He then glances to his left before bringing his eyes back to the screen. "No, I uh, I was shocked when you told me. Especially so blatantly."
I sigh. "I was just trying to act unaffected." I explain.
"I know. You stammered."
"Honestly. . ." I scoff, "I was terrified. My first time, my last time. I was scared, because I may have been been there more than once, but each prison is different, each girl is different, and each day is never the same. I was scared everyday, every hour, every minute, every second."
"You've been more than once?" He asks with wide eyes.
"Yes. That wasn't the first time I was in prison." I reveal. "The second time was stupid, but I was still healing. I was in a rough place, and the first time changed me for the worst, to be honest."
"How many times have you been?" He asks softly. "You don't need to tell me if you don't wanna."
"It's fine." I say. "I'm working on it, but it's not something I'd want to repeat over and over again, and I guess that's why I was so adamant on neither of you finding out where I was before I moved in."
"Wait, so you weren't actually in Pasadena?" He questions quizzically. "Or were you actually there serving time?"
"No. I was somewhat slipping up my words still at the time, so I came up with words similar to what I was going to say. I often almost said 'penitentiary' on many occasions, so I'd just use Pasadena as my excuse. I've actually never been to Pasadena."
"Where did you serve?"
"First time, I was in San Francisco. I went to jail for a day and a half maybe because of some stupid mistake after that. Then my true second time was. . . I don't even know where. Somewhere in Canada. We landed, and immediately I was sent away."
He remains silent as he takes my words in, nodding distantly. I don't know how he's feeling because it appears his walls are up at the moment.
"I'd explain more, but I'd much rather do it in person, so. . ." I trail off. I don't even know if this was a conversation even worth having. To me, it's just another reason for him to dump me. I'm not the girl he thought I was, and that's what I'm assuming what drew him into me. Not only did I kiss my ex because I was feeling too many feelings all at once, but now he's going to think everything over to see if he actually wants to spend his time with a delinquent. Well, as far as he knows I'm a delinquent.
"I understand."
"Landon. . ." I sigh, my stomach knotting and dropping like a boulder smashed onto it. "I have to tell you somethingâ"
The doorbell ringing has my head snapping over towards the door and my eyes widening. I wasn't expecting anyone.
You couldn't have waited five minutes until I revealed myself to him? I gulp, and turn back to Landon. "Just a minute." He nods hesitantly, and watches me closely before I stand up, walking over to the door. I take a look through the peephole, and my eyes widen when I see Taylor standing on the other side.
Oh, right. Guess you forgot to remind yourself that he was coming over sometime tonight or tomorrow. How smart of you, Brooklyn, I scold myself mentally, and suddenly my stomach drops when I realize that my ex is right in front of me, and my current boyfriend is not even five feet away from me.
Well, isn't this going to be a wonderful turnout?
"Shit!" I hiss, and bite my lip, trying to figure out if I want to answer the door or just pretend I'm not home.
Then I realize that I have no choice, because I really need this talk with Taylor to sort everything out.
Gulping, I swing open the door to reveal Taylor. He's dressed the same as this morning, whereas for myself, I changed into comfortable clothes before I left Lacey's, so I'm wearing black sweats with a red lifeguard sweater on.
"Taylor, hi." I say in surprise.
"Hey." He smiles warmly. "Is now a bad time?
"Yeah, kinda. Butâ"
"Sorry," he frowns, though he doesn't sound sorry. "I just really want to talk to you."
"Can it wait until tomorrow? I'm kinda busyâ"
"Preferably not." He says honestly.
I sigh. "No, it's fine. Um, come in. I'm just on the phone with someone so just settle or something and I'll be right back." I say hurriedly, and he nods, stepping in and closing the door behind him while I walk back to the living room to dismiss Landon. I'll just have to tell him in the morning or I'll call him back when Taylor leaves.
"Baby, can I call you back?" I ask, purposely using the name so Taylor doesn't try to pull anything.
"Who was that?" Landon asks, ignoring me.
"Um, it wasâ"
"Is that who you just said it was?" He demands, his voice rising.
"Iâ"
"He's in your house?" He continues. "Why didn't you tell me he was going to be there? You're not alone, are you?"
"Landon!" I snap, trying to get his attention so I can explain. "It's not what you think it is. I promise I waâ"
"Of course not." He laughs dryly. "It's just your ex-boyfriend in your house alone with you without my knowing. It's definitely not what it looks like."
I feel my eyes start to burn, and I blink rapidly to clear them. "I promise it isn't." I whimper. "But if that's what you think this is then I guess it shows how much trust you have in me. He and I need to have a long talk, so I gotta go."
"Shit. Brooklynâ" he says, his voice wavering in remorse.
"Bye." I hiss, and slam my laptop shut, sighing heavily and roughly wiping the tears that have escaped.
I glance around to see the room empty, and when I hear dishes clatter in my kitchen, my feet automatically drag me to the room where I see Taylor grabbing some mugs. Like he fucking owns the place.
"Tea?" He asks softly. I nod, even though he can't see me, and sniffle. He turns around and his eyes widen in sadness and worry once he sees my tear-stained face. "Hey, what's wrong?"
I walk over to him, and wrap my arms around his torso, needing the comfort. It doesn't mean anything that I'm hugging him; I would've hugged anyone who was in my reach. I just wish it was Landon instead. "I'm sad."
He chuckles lightly. "Yeah, I think I got that part down."
"And I'm mad." I add, squeezing him tighter.
"Why are you sad and mad?"
"Because I'm being accused of going behind one's back without actually being accused."
"Huh. Who was that?" He asks, referring to my FaceTime call.
"My boyfriend." I mutter. "Who probably wants to be my ex-boyfriend because he thinks I'm cheating on him with my ex-boyfriend."
He pulls away. "You have a boyfriend?" He asks, his voice in slight hurt.
"Probably not anymore." I scoff sadly. "Literally only been going out a week and we're already fighting constantly."
"Doesn't sound like a healthy relationship." He says honestly.
"Don't feel like one either, at the moment." I snap. "But he has good intentions."
"I had good intentions and look at where that ended us." He retorts.
I sigh. "Landon's different." I argue. "He's a good man. But maybe he's not ready for a relationship, especially with someone like me. We were better off just flirting than actually committing."
"He knows?"
"Yeah."
He frowns. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No." I mumble. "Can we please drop this?"
"Of course." He agrees. "But can I ask something first?"
"Yeah, sure." I sigh, looking up at him expectantly.
"Why did we kiss?" He questions. "Not that I didn't want to, because it was long overdue and I've been waiting two and a half years to do it, but you're not single, and we kissed."
I nibble on my bottom lip, the kettle going off grabbing my attention so I grab some teabags, sugar, and the milk. "Honestly, I don't know." I say with pursed lips. "I was overwhelmed with a lot of emotion running into you. I guess I couldn't help myself, and neither could you. Don't think it means anything. If shouldn't have happened, though, Taylor."
"I know we're in an odd place right now, but I just want you to know that I don't regret it, Brooklyn." He says sternly, making me smile as I dip the orange pekoe bags into the boiling hot water. "I agree we shouldn't have, but that doesn't mean I'll stop."
Sure, make this harder on me! "I know." I reply. "I don't, either. I wish I did, but I don't, but you can't try tempting me, okay? I have a boyfriend; this doesn't change anything."
We're in a silence until I'm finished making both of the teas, assuming he likes it how he always did. I take it he does, because he moans in delight. "You always could make bombing tea." He mumbles.
I smile, a light blush forming on my cheeks. "You're more open than before," I point out. "More interactive and less shy." More honest. More. . . careless.
"Yeah," he shrugs, "I guess it's safe to say I grew up during my years." Then he adds quietly, "Prison changed me."
I sigh heavily, nodding my head, agreeing with his comment. "Yeah, it certainly does, doesn't it?" Because not only does he know, we both know from experience that it's either for better or for worse.
"What about you?" He asks softly, walking out to the living room and sitting down on the couch. I take my seat beside him, leaving some room so I can bring my legs up to my chest and lean them against the back of the couch.
"I don't know anymore." I say. "I definitely grew balls, but I don't know. The first time. . . I can't even bring myself to think of it, it's so horrible. That experience gave me nightmares; it still does. The, uh, flashbacks of the time I've spent there, what I did, what they did to me. . . and the second time I was. . . God, I can't even tell which was worse anymore. I got lessons learned in both, but I suppose that for each experience, I learned to never take anything for granted and to never let my guard down."
His eyes study me for a long time, before the eyebrows scrunch together. "You've been in more than once?"
I nod silently. "Three times."
He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it after. He repeats this motion several times before I lean over to press my fingertips on his jaw to stop him. "Baby, what happened to you?" He whispers, more to himself than to me.
"Horrible experiences." I say, my voice barely audible. "You have no idea what happened to me in there, Taylor." My voice quivers, a disgusting sob escaping my lips as a flashback comes back to my head.
"Three times." He repeats. "H-how? Why?"
I sniffle, and shrug. "First time is obvious. Second time was only for almost two days, and that was because I got into a fight with my mom during a party I threw for back to school and ran away while drunk as hell with an open bottle of booze."
"You ran away?"
"I made it to the main drag to the beach before I got busted." I grumble out. "I threw a fit, called the cops not-so-polite names in Spanish, then I was thrown into the drunk tank for over a day."
"Then what happened?" He presses cautiously, trying to keep it on my level of comfortability without making me feel uneasy or upset from the discussion. Honestly, I have no problem talking about it with him. I don't know why; maybe it's because I'm so comfortable with him to begin with, or maybe it's because we went through the same thing and he knows more than anyone else how hard life is behind bars and how bad the scars leave you frightened and reminded of how you dealt with the time.
Or maybe it's because he knows the exact feeling of how the prison experience is and that since I can't confide in my friends or boyfriend, he's my other other shot.
"When I was released, I was pissed, and when I got home all my things were packed, so that got me even more mad. So. . . something happened that I'm not too proud of and I got a month-long sentence for obstruction and threatening a police officer."
"Bags packed?" He questions.
My frown deepens, and I feel even more upset about having to tell him that I don't live here anymore. "My mom and I. . . she dropped a bomb that I was being shipped off to an old friend while her and dad went to New York to live a while."
"Why couldn't you stay home?" He questions confusedly.
"First time coming home from prison left me mentally and emotionally unstable." I explain nervously. "Nobody trusted me alone."
"Brooklyn. . ."
"It's okay." I give a small smile. "I'm doing better." Then I sigh, my body shaking slightly from sudden shivers. Who turned the A/C on? "So. . . as a result, I, um, had to move."
"Well it's not that bad, yeah?" He says with a reassuring smile. "Surely you didn't go far, since you're here, and at school."
I shake my head rapidly, like a dog shaking after emerging from water. "That was just a coincidence, Taylor."
"Then. . . what? You live on the other side of town? San Francisco? Sacramentoâ"
"Canada." I interrupt.
"C-Canada?" He stammers. "What the fuck are you doing in Canada?"
Apparently he got a dirty mouth on him from prison, too. He never used to swear, and though I have a cussing issue, it disgusts me hearing such things come from him. "Living." I say. "That's where I did the month. I wasn't even home for half an hour after coming back from the drunk tank before getting thrown immediately onto a plane to Canada where I was to do my term and then move to where I had to."
"So. . . I'm never gonna see you again?" He frowns.
This brings more tears to my eyes, in which Taylor is quick to wipe away. "I wasn't expecting you being released at all while I was here. You were gonna find out I wasn't here, not make contact, and we were to move on. This moment shouldn't even be happening."
"Fate?" He suggests. "It can only be a coincidence: you're here, I got released early, and you and your boyfriend are fighting."
"He's just stubborn." I interfere. "He's actually really sweet. This is not fate."
"I don't call someone making a woman cry sweet." He says gruffly. "You've been through a lot, you shouldn't shed anymore tears."
"I cried over you many times before," I point out. "Besides, I shed them nightly, Tay. It's inevitable."
"How?" He requests. "What makes you do that?"
"Remember when I said the experience?"
"Yes."
"My recent oneâwhen I was going time for obstructionât-they left horrific scars." I stutter. "I try my hardest to forget, but they always come back. Sometimes they just pop up, and others it gets to the point where I wake up screaming in the middle of the night."
He gasps, his eyes widening to the point they may as well pop out. "Baby. . ."
"Did they ever force you to do things in prison, Taylor?" I ask in a raspy whisper. "Threaten you, hurt you, blackmail you, rat on you."
"Not really, baby, no," he says sadly. "I had family where I went to. They helped me out. I got involved with some shipments, but only because they had leverage."
So maybe he didn't change so much?
"Yeah," I whisper. "But they have very perverse male guards in women's penitentiaries. Disgusting women. . ." I trail off, hoping he catches on.
He does, and immediately once realization dawns on him, his jaw clenches and I can visibly see his body grow rigid and still. "Are you implying what I think you are?" He growls out.
"If what you think I'm implying is rape, then yes."