Page 9 of Fighting for Tawny

“How long was Nixie here before she disappeared?”

“About three months. Nixie was real excited because she’d been chosen to attend fire school. Said it was her ticket out of a bad life. No family, no money, abusive boyfriend who pimped her out. If you finish the program, you owe Cal Fire two years of your life. Ain’t a bad deal, neither. Wish I was one of the lucky ones to get picked.”

“How do we get picked?”

Jo shrugged and took a handful of pretzels Tawny offered her. “Hell, if I know. Seems kinda random to me.”

“So, did Nixie ever start fire school?” Tawny’s mind spun with a myriad of possibilities and connections, none of them good regarding the firefighter program. Women chosen randomly like her and Yolanda without anyone on the outside who cared about them. Women disappeared or died from drug overdoses. None of the inmates knew someone who’d been chosen for fire school and completed the program. Some of the puzzle pieces fell into place and provided Tawny with an idea of the bigger picture, but she needed more of the pieces.

“Yeah. It’s in the hills above Chino. Nixie liked it. Said it was hard work, and scary when you’re in the middle of a fire, but she was happy. Then, one day, she wasn’t. Clammed up real tight, wouldn’t talk to no one. She was like that for ‘bout a week when she disappeared.”

“What do you think happened to her?”

Jo chewed and swallowed the pretzel in her mouth. She glanced toward the empty corridor and cells. “We’re not supposed to be havin’ this conversation.”

“I got picked for fire school this morning.”

“Jesus!” Jo leaned closer. “They said Nixie graduated from the program. But before, they used to make a big deal ‘bout it. Fire chief himself would come to the ceremony in the chapel, and we was all invited. Not now. Now, there’s just this vague announcement. Or they say the missing ones transferred to another facility.” She grabbed Tawny’s arm, and her eyes grew round with fear and concern. “Don’t do it. Tell the warden you ain’t into fightin’ fires.”

Tawny didn’t see Yolanda until dinnertime. Her face was swollen from the dental work, and Tawny could see she was in pain from the look in her eyes. She ate a couple of bites of mashed potatoes, then pushed her plate toward another inmate who eagerly accepted the gift.

“Yolanda, I’m really sorry about your teeth. I never meant to hurt you like that.” Tawny’s stomach twisted into knots, and she dropped her fork.

Yolanda nodded and offered a lopsided smile that was more like a grimace.

“If you ain’t gonna eat,” one of the other inmates interjected, “I’ll take yours.”

Tawny waved at her tray and rose to her feet. “Be my guest.”

She and Yolanda wandered into the common room and huddled in a corner together. Some of the other inmates eyed them with suspicion, maybe afraid the pair would gang up on them.

“I’ve been waiting all day to tell you this,” Tawny whispered. “We got picked for fire school.”

Yolanda’s deep brown eyes widened in surprise a moment before fear took its place. “T, no. I ain’t no firefighter.”

“Neither am I. But listen, Yolanda. It’s our ticket out of this hellhole. We graduate from the program, we get paroled. Yeah, sure, Cal Fire owns us for two years, but maybe we can get trained to be something else, like an EMT or a 911 operator.”

“But I can’t read that well. I’ll flunk the classes.”

“I can help you through them. The rest is all physical. Aside from kicking the shit outta each other, we’re in great shape.”

“I’m scared. I’ve heard things like how there hasn’t been fire camp since Nixie disappeared.”

“I know about her. I don’t want you to worry. We’ll take care of each other. Blood sisters, remember?”

Yolanda nodded, but the fear remained in her eyes.

Tawny hated nights in the facility the most. At ten o’clock, a guard pressed a button in the control room, and the cell doors slid shut. Guards paced up and down the cell blocks yelling, “Lights out, ladies!” Sometimes they called them “ladies,” other times cruder names. Amid the jangling of the guards’ keys and other sounds typical of nights in prison, Tawny heard the mournful sobs of the women who missed their loved ones, if they were lucky enough to have them, or who regretted their mistakes that cost them their freedom. Whatever the reason they shed tears, no one on Tawny’s cell block mocked them. Maybe at night, they all experienced the same unadulterated loneliness that was less intense during the day when they wore false bravado that masked their true feelings.

But at night they cried.

Tawny herself struggled with the deep despair this place perpetuated. Even though she knew her family and friends and Finnigan were waiting for her to come home unscathed from being undercover, the relentless, pervasive shroud of hopelessness and helplessness threatened to cast its long shadow over her, too. If she were able to have pictures of her loved ones, it would help to ease her loneliness. But pretending to be unloved and uncared for was part of her cover and probably the reason Warden Stoltz chose her for fire school.

She reached beneath her mattress and removed a small notepad and a two-inch flashlight. Other inmates had little lights, too, that the guards ignored. If someone complained, they’d be confiscated, but no one ever did. Perhaps the women found solace in the dim light. After she read over her previous entries, Tawny began to write.

Met Jo and Bette today. Learned some interesting information about their pasts. Looks like we have similar stories. Old Stoltz is sending me to fire school. I made sure Yolanda is part of the deal. Feel bad about knocking out her teeth. I helped Andee enroll in adult education, so happy she’s moving forward. I guess I am, too.

The prison psychologist who ran group therapy suggested journaling as a way for the women to express their innermost thoughts and feelings they didn’t want to share with anyone else. Tawny kept her entries vague, so anyone who might read them wouldn’t know how she coded them to keep track of her case. Fire school and Bette’s theory were the first promising leads she’d had since entering the institution. Talking privately with Bette was at the top of Tawny’s list for the following day. After adding a few more innocuous sentences, she returned the notepad and flashlight to their hiding place and settled in for the night.

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