Serving Lola

Pearl slept horribly on the cold, hard cement floor that night. She was lucky if she could sleep for more than fifteen minutes at a time before she would awaken. The guards talked loudly beyond the door and blasted a TV, making it even harder to get any peace or rest. Then there was her mind. Her mind wouldn’t give her a rest. It kept racing with one horrible possibility after another. She just wanted tomorrow to hurry up and come so she could get things straightened out, but tomorrow seemed to take forever to come. When it finally did, it still seemed like a lawyer wasn’t anywhere in the immediate future. They were ordered to shower. They were given breakfast. They were made to sit in a cell in which many women—some very loud, scary, and obnoxious—came and went as the hours passed by. Finally, her name was called, and she was led into a small room in which a ridiculous-looking pot-bellied man sat with a hairstyle fit for a teenager. His clothes looked outdated and dirty. Could this man really help her? The man introduced himself as Herman Wenstat, and Pearl eagerly poured her story out to him. She was annoyed with how often he would interrupt her—not just to learn and understand more about her case, but for her to repeat the same things she’d already told him. The more she spoke with him, or tried to, the less hopeful she felt. “If you just contact Detective Davis, he can clear this thing right up,” Pearl said in frustration. “OK,” he said, gathering his papers and placing them into his thirty-year-old briefcase. “That’s it?” “That’s it.” Pearl was speechless. “Well, when can I go home?” “Gotta verify your story first.” “And how long will that take?” “As long as it takes.” Pearl sighed in frustration. “I was really hoping you’d have something better than that for me, as at least some guess as to how long I’ll have to be in this place. I’m supposed to be at work right now. The longer I don’t show up or at least call in, the more likely they are to fire me. Do I need to lose my job too, on top of everything else this woman has put me through?” “I’m sorry, Miss Avondale. I’ll do my best as fast as I can, but remember, you put yourself through this by breaking the law in the first place.” Pearl let her anger boil. “Hey, this isn’t about me. This is about her abuse of authority!” Wenstat stood up. “I know, I know. I’ll do my best and get back to you soon.” Pearl thought “soon” meant later on that day. But then the hours turned into days, Pearl fearing the worst more and more. She was afraid she’d lose her job, and then she would lose her apartment, too. She called her parents, not wanting to tell them what Lola had done to her. They knew she’d gotten into trouble, but they didn’t know about the abuse. Now that they did, they promised to speak to Detective Davis and call her boss to explain that a family crisis had arisen. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be fired, but the longer things took, the more Pearl lost hope. Pearl cried in frustration while some inmates wanted to comfort her in ways she didn’t need or want. She hated the gross slop they ate and the cold showers they took. Worst of all was the endless time and the many questions that ran through her head. Why was she still in here? Just when she was beginning to lose track of what day it was, Wenstat put in another appearance. “Finally!” Pearl exclaimed with a newfound burst of hope. “Please tell me you have good news for me.” “I’m afraid I don’t,” said the very round man. Pearl’s smile fell as if it had been taped to her face and the tape had let go. “There’s no record of you ever having talked to Detective Davis.” “No record? What do you mean there’s no record? Of course I talked to him!” “Did he give you any papers of any kind?” Pearl shook her head. “No. We talked, and he had me sign something, and then he said he would be in touch. Told me to act natural when I met with my probation officer and not to answer the door if she came around before someone had a chance to talk to her.” Wenstat held his dubious expression. “Davis must’ve lied to me. Somewhere along the line, he had to have destroyed or hidden my complaint.” “It gets worse.” “It gets worse? How much worse can it get than being in on a false drug charge?” “A murder charge, perhaps?” Pearl’s hazel eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “What?! No fucking way! I haven’t killed anyone!” “Lola’s dead.” Lola had done more than inconvenience her. She’d literally ruined her life. Pearl started to scream hysterically as the staff restrained her.