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Her hand moves so fast that you’d think I’d just burned her. “You don’t want me anymore do you? Huh?”
“I—”
“Fuck!” She stands up and plants her hands in her hips. “All you’re ever interested in is the guys at the stupid fucking warehouse and your computers. What do you have on them, huh? Porn? Is that what you’re doing? Watching porn all day?”
I huff out a breath. I wish I had a spare half an hour to watch fucking porn, at least then I may get some goddamn relief.
She spins around on her heels, heading for my computer and I know that this is going to end one of two ways. She’s either going to storm out and not talk to me for several days or I’m going to have to give in to her.
I place the cold box of food down on the small table in front of me and stand up, taking the four steps to get to her before wrapping my arms around her from behind and kissing her neck.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go to bed early.”
“You don’t want me,” she whines.
I don’t answer her, instead I continue planting soft kisses down her neck.
Stick your head in the sand again, Evan. That’ll make things better.
“How are you settling in?” Jake asks, his eyes boring into mine from behind his pine wooden desk.
I shift in the blue plastic chair, my eyes scanning his office. They land on the window on the left beige wall that looks out into the waiting room. There’s several people waiting to have the same meeting with him that I’m having right now.
I’ve been out of prison for two weeks now, and I still wake up every morning expecting to hear the shouts from other women in the block: to feel the cold seeping into my bones from underneath the thin blankets. Instead, I’m greeted with the gentle footsteps of Livvy walking around the house and warmth.
I shake the thoughts from my head, focusing back on Jake.
“Really good, the job’s going well and Livvy is great.” I smile, a genuine one that I haven’t had on my face for years.
“Good.” He pushes his chair back, picking up a small plastic cup off the desk. “Protocol,” he says as he hands it to me.
“Huh?” I take it from him, staring at it with confusion written all over my face. Why is he handing me a cup?
“Drug test.” He shifts uncomfortably. “I know you weren’t in on a drug charge, but if you take any kind of substance, it’s a breach of your parole.”
“Ah, okay.” I stand up. “Do I do it now?”
He walks past me, opening up the door to his office and waving me to follow him. We walk past several doors before he comes to a stop in front of a dark-blue one, op
ening it up. “I’ll stand here and wait.”
I’m about to tell him that he doesn’t need to do that when I realize this must be part of the process. It’s not like I’m a stranger to people hearing me pee. You get used to having no privacy when you’re sharing a shower block with many other women or being strip-searched at random.
I do my business, washing my hands after and opening up the door.
“You can leave it there.” He tilts his head so I place it back on the sink. He steps inside, putting on a pair of gloves and taking a strip out of a small canister on the counter, dipping it in and then throwing it away. “All clear.”
Like I knew it would be.
We head back into his office, me taking a seat as he writes something down on a pad in front of him.
“I want to see you in four weeks, book an appointment with the front desk,” he tells me, not looking up. “We’ll see where you are then: Livvy will have reported back to me too and then we can assess when I’ll need to see you next.”
I nod my head, clearing my throat. “So, I can go now?”
He lifts his head, staring at me for a beat before he slowly nods. “Yeah.”
“Awesome.” I stand up, stepping toward the door that he left open. “I’ll see you in four weeks.”
