“Take a deep breath, honey,” I soothe in a low voice, patting Cleo’s hand as I park my truck near the entrance of Lockwood Correctional Facility. “It’s fine. Your mom will be happy to see you.”
Cleo nods, her brown eyes wary.
“I hope so,” she says in a quiet voice. “It’s just this is my first time seeing my mom since she first went to lock-up, and I’m not sure what to expect. What if she’s crazy now? It does happen, you know.”
I nod.
“It does, but only occasionally,” I acknowledge. “Besides, prison does funny things to a person, so maybe Jeannie’s changed for the better.”
With that, we get out of the truck and stroll across the parking lot. I take my girl’s hand and squeeze in a show of support. After all, Cleo and I haven’t figured out a way to punish her old suitemates just yet, but we will. It’s merely a matter of when because I don’t let people walk away from a shitstorm without feeling some serious pain.
In the meantime, Jeannie’s getting out of lock-up, and we’re here to pick her up. Maybe my ex will walk the straight and narrow after her experience as a jailbird. Or maybe she’ll be exactly the same, and resume her old habits straightaway. God, I hope not, and for her daughter’s sake, I’m praying for a change.
Cleo takes one last breath before we enter the dull grey building.
“I hope this works out okay.”
I squeeze her hand again.
“It’s going to be fine, sweetheart. I’m sure Jeannie’s a changed woman.”
Cleo merely sighs, her shoulders slumping.
“Changed, as in now Jeannie’s two hundred pounds, bald, and a complete thug? Or changed as in she’s spent her time in prison attending church and now she’s extremely religious and refuses to go anywhere without a Bible, while speaking strictly in psalms?”
I laugh at her joke as we step into the prison, and the first thing that strikes me are the glaringly bright fluorescents. I literally have to shade my eyes as we approach the front desk.
“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine, sweetheart. You’re not going to know what your mom’s been up to until she comes out, and there’s no sense in getting all worked up about it until then.” With that, we go through what feels like hours of paperwork before being sent to a waiting area with orange and red plastic chairs bolted to the ground. But then, a heavy door opens, and who but Jeannie strolls in.
I blink because actually, my ex looks good. She appears healthy and fit, with her brownish-gray hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She’s wearing street clothes that were probably what she had on when she was nabbed for the crime, but they’re clean and not wrinkled or dirty. Sure, there’s a new tattoo on her hand, but it’s fine.
We stand as the middle-aged woman approaches. I can see that there are new lines and wrinkles around Jeannie’s eyes and mouth, but otherwise, it’s still the same woman.
“Hi Mom,” Cleo says in a hesitant voice. “It’s nice to see you.”
Jeannie doesn’t hesitate, pulling Cleo into a hug.
“Hey you,” she says in a strong voice. “I missed you! You too, Brody,” she says before letting go. “Now let’s bust this joint because I’ve been here long enough already.”
With that, we exit the prison and get into my truck. Jeannie straps herself into the backseat, and then we’re off to a nearby diner for lunch. It’s a little surreal, really, because I’ve made love to both women in the vehicle, and yet it doesn’t feel wrong. I guess my marriage to Jeannie was so long ago that it almost doesn’t matter anymore.
Soon, we’re settled into a booth at the diner, and that’s when things begin to feel a little stilted. I mean, how do you ask about someone’s prison stay? Cleo shifts awkwardly as she tries find something to talk about that’s not too heavy.
“So Mom, how are you? Are you healthy?” Cleo questions quietly, hesitation dripping from the words as if she’s afraid to venture too far.
Jeannie smiles, waving her hand.
“Don’t be scared, sweetie, because prison wasn’t so bad. I learned a whole lot while I was in there, and hell, didn’t Martha Stewart serve time too? Come to think of it, I think everyone should spend some time behind bars just for the experience.”
Cleo is quiet for a few moments as she picks at an invisible piece of lint on her jeans.
“Right. So did you get enough to eat in there?” she asks, grasping at potential topics of conversation.
But Jeannie is totally comfortable and laughs, nodding her head. “Yeah. I can’t say that the food was a five star dining experience but there was enough of it to go around. And it wasn’t so bad. Most importantly, I had some time to contemplate what I’ve done wrong in life, and I promise, I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart,” she says in a fervent tone, taking Cleo’s hand.
My girl immediately looks up, eyes startled.
“Oh, you don’t have to make it up to me, Mom. I’m totally fine. Brody took me in for Christmas break, and he’s been a huge support ever since.”
Then, my sweet girl shoots me a panicked look because we don’t want to reveal our relationship to Jeannie just yet. The woman just got out of prison, and deserves some time to acclimatize herself before we drop that bomb.
But Jeannie merely nods and smiles.
“Good, good. I’m glad you guys were there for each other because I’ve realized that friends can make a huge difference in life. I made some friends while I was on the inside as well,” she says in a meaningful tone. “You have to, to stay alive at a place like Lockwood.”
Oh shit, where are we going with this?
“You mean, gangs?” asks Cleo hesitantly. “Because it’s dangerous on the inside, right?”
Jeannie nods.
“Yeah, definitely. A women’s prison is no walk in the park, honey. You got to protect yourself, but I learned how. I made some friends, I worked out, I got a couple new tattoos, and I used my secret weapon.”
We both stare at her.
“What do you mean?” I ask in a careful tone. “Like being friendly with some of the guards? Trading credits for food?”
Jeannie lets out a bark of genuinely amused laughter.
“No, this,” she says, searching around in her pocket for something before pulling out a small vial of grayish liquid.
Cleo immediately pulls away, gasping.
“What is that?” she demands. “Heroin? Fentanyl? What?”
Jeannie rolls her eyes.
“No, nothing like that, but there is a black-market trade in the women’s prison—”
“OMG, Mom,” Cleo gasps. “Please tell me that you’re not some kind of prison drug lord now—”
Jeannie waves her hand while chuckling.
“Oh, relax. Don’t go getting your panties in a twist!” she admonishes. “No, this isn’t like that. I mean, it’s a drug, but nothing crazy or anything.”
This time, I step in.
“Okay, so what is it? MDMA? Ecstasy? Adderall?”
Jeannie snorts.
“You two are so fucking suspicious, you know that? No, it’s just laxatives, you know the stuff that makes you take a shit. It’s great for spontaneous bowel movements.”
We stare at one another before looking back at the middle-aged woman.
“This was your secret weapon?” Cleo asks in a slow voice.
Jeannie nods happily, her ponytail bobbing.
“Hell yeah! It’s all homemade too, using just a bit of sweet potato skin, some fiber supplements, and my secret ingredient,” she winks. “I’d cook it up in my cell, and trust me, this stuff is the serious ju-ju.”
Cleo and I are still staring at the middle-aged woman.
“But how did you use it?”
Jeannie shrugs.
“Whenever someone would diss me or try to start something, I’d just force-feed them these laxatives. You know I got jacked at the prison gym, right? So it wasn’t too hard to force their mouths open, and then you just pinch their noses until they have to swallow.”
Both Cleo and I pause at this description of violence. Holy shit. But Jeannie continues, unbothered.
“It was perfect. My ju-ju is the magic stuff, and within five minutes those bitches would be screaming while shitting themselves. That shit was brown, gooey, and honestly, like a toxic vomit that would spray out of their buttholes in projectile fashion. They learned not to fuck around with me after that,” she adds with a satisfied smirk.
“Holy shit,” I growl, shaking my head.
“Didn’t you get into trouble for that?” Cleo asks with disbelief, furrowing her brow.
“Of course not,” Jeannie shrugs airily. “Taking a shit isn’t exactly a crime, even if you’re screaming like a stuck pig while doing it,” she adds with humor. “Besides, the guards didn’t care because it’s not like they’re the ones cleaning up. So yeah. It was usually the projectile shitter herself who had to clean up her own mess, and trust me, that’s not a job you want on your plate.”
This is getting so disgusting that I’m actually starting to feel nauseated. I push my food away, my stomach turning. Evidently, Cleo agrees because she too stops eating.
“Wow,” the curvy girl murmurs. “Gross.”
Jeannie nods. “Yeah, it’s perfect right? Projectile shitting is da bomb. I swear, I should market this stuff and sell it because it’s so powerful,” she says, looking craftily at the vial. “It’s like a magic potion.”
Cleo and I sit there, trying to take in everything that’s just happened. I guess we should have expected it, but no one expects their mother to get out of prison knowing how to cook laxatives. Meth maybe, but not laxatives.
Still, Jeannie’s already moved on and slips the vial back into her pocket before shooting us a devilish look.
“So how long have you two been dating?” she asks in a casual tone. “Since before I went in, or after?”
Once again, the two of us are left stunned. Cleo’s mouth falls open and I try to stutter out a few words of denial, but I don’t even know what to say because if Jeannie wasn’t sure of us dating before, then she must be now after seeing our reactions.
“We—we aren’t—” I begin.
“Cut it out,” the older woman rolls her eyes. “Come on, I’m not blind or dumb. You two are practically glued to each other and you look at her the same way you used to look at me. Any idiot can see that you guys are together.”
“Jeannie—” I try, but she cuts me off.
“And stop looking so scared. I don’t care that you two are boinking one another. After all, what’s it to me?”
“You don’t mind?” Cleo whispers, her cheeks bright red as she hangs her head in an attempt to hide her face with her hair. “I mean, that is, if we were dating…” she tries to cover her tracks. “You really wouldn’t care?”
Jeannie just looks exasperated now, folding her hands over one another.
“Brody and I haven’t been married for more than a decade,” she huffs, sending us both a meaningful look. “It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be with him, and frankly, I’ve moved on.”
“What do you mean, you’ve moved on?” I ask slowly.
“It just means that being at Lockwood awakened something in my soul,” Jeannie hums. “An attraction for the female form, so to say, and trust me, hon, after you’ve had another woman go down on you, you’ll never go back. Women understand one another,” she adds in a sly tone. “As a result, cunnilingus is so much more satisfying.”
Cleo and I stare at one another again, our mouths hanging open. Holy shit, is Jeannie a lesbian now? It definitely sounds like it.
“More power to you,” I growl. “Good for you.”
“Yes, good for you,” Cleo echoes in a faint voice. “Did you find a girlfriend in prison?”
“Oh no,” Jeannie says airily. “One of those bitches? Please, I was using them for physical satisfaction, and nothing else. But yeah, like I said, I’ve moved on. Besides, I’m a strong believer in ‘you can’t pick whom you fall in love with’ because look at me. The universe works in strange ways, no? Sometimes, it awakens taboo desires, and you have to roll with it.”
“I see,” Cleo murmurs, shooting me a wary look. “Very interesting.”
“Besides, I can sense the spark between you two,” Jeannie continues with a mischievous grin. “Seems like you both really like each other.”
“Well, it’s only been a few months since we first got together but we’re really happy. At least I know I am,” Cleo smiles at me. “I’ve never been happier, actually.”
“Me too,” I growl, a flush rising on my cheekbones. “You’re beautiful and gorgeous, Cleo, and everything I’ve ever wanted.” Then my voice falters as I quickly glance at Jeannie. I hope she doesn’t feel insulted because hell, this is my ex, so maybe she’ll be resentful despite the change in her sexual orientation. But I have to be honest. I’ve never been so in love with a woman before in my life, but yeah, Cleo just happens to be my ex-wife’s daughter.
Jeannie merely nods smugly.
“Well, I hope the two of you are happy together because you guys are the two best things to ever happen in my life, so it seems perfect. And again, I couldn’t be happier for you guys.”
We’re both stunned by this series of revelations, but maybe we shouldn’t be, seeing that my ex has always been the queen of unpredictability. I squeeze Cleo’s hand under the table, and the curvy girl squeezes back because we’ve been blown away by the events of this lunch alone. Who knows what else my ex will have in store?
“Thank you, Mom,” Cleo murmurs quietly. “Your blessing means a lot to us.”
“Of course,” Jeannie nods before turning to stare at me. “But you better take good care of my daughter, Brody, because if I hear even one peep of dissatisfaction from Cleo, you’ll be taking the worst shit of your life. Trust me. You don’t want your toilet overflowing because of this gunk, if you even make it to the toilet in time.”
I chuckle, holding my palms up in defense. “You don’t have to worry, ma’am, because I wouldn’t dream of harming a hair on your daughter’s head, let alone breaking her heart. Cleo’s in safe hands with me.”
“Good,” Jeannie says with a smug smile. “Then let’s get this show on the road because I’m starving. You would’t believe the slop they serve when you’re behind bars. I swear, I’m going to write a letter to the governor himself.”
With that, we’re off once more as my ex-wife regales us with stories from her time behind bars. I’m listening, but at the same time, I’m looking at Cleo because my girl has finally relaxed for the first time since we discovered her ransacked room. Good. It seems that Jeannie has a purpose in all this, and I’m glad we’re charting out a path together.