Chapter 3: 1966-1967

I knew from talking to her just five days gone that she would have been starting her fulltime job yesterday, Monday. Well, I was starting mine today, just one day after her. I was in the prison’s bus being transported 200 miles north to Winslow State Penitentiary. All I could think about was her, well, and Jillian, four-year-old Jillian. I was going to be gone for many years. I wondered if my Jillie would remember her daddy. I had to believe that she would not; it would be too much to ask of my baby girl. But Val had sworn she would teach her, bring her up knowing about me, so, maybe a little.

She’d learned that the bus taking the prisoners away would be leaving at 9:00 a.m. She was parked down the block and saw as it passed by. Barred windows—a motorized cage for men condemned to other cages hundreds of miles north, and her husband was one of the men. She cried. She had the swing shift at the Lone Star again, and that for the rest of the week. She’d be starting at 2:00. But before that she’d have to deliver Jillian to the babysitter, missus Rogers. The good news: missus Rogers lived near the bar and grill; that was a plus.

She turned toward Jillian who was napping in the back seat. She smiled. Her baby, their baby, would know her daddy. Valerie Benedict was going to make sure of that. She pulled out of the grocery store’s lot and headed home.

The days seemed longer since her husband had been transported to prison. She was still getting used to the daily grind of fulltime work. She’d been satisfied with her ten hours weekly part time job until now. But now there was no husband around to support her and her baby.

“How yuh doin’, girlfriend,” said Lilly. Val smiled.

“Okay. Still getting used to stuff, like we talked about yesterday. See me in say another year and I’ll have a better idea about things.”

“We get off in a few. Wanna stop at the Ronson for a beer?”

“Sure, I guess. But only one. I gotta pick up the baby before midnight.”

“Sounds good,” said Lilly.

Seated in the rundown sawdust joint, the two women were being eyed by a couple of already well juiced locals; young women were always targets, Valerie knew: two guys yesterday and these two today. Looked like maybe these were construction workers; there were a lot of those around these days, thought Valerie; the city was growing.

The beers came and the two ladies touched glasses and sipped.

“So?” said Lil.

“I have already written him. He’s gonna get it soon. It’s the best I can do in the short run. I know he’s still in kind of a learning situation. I mean I know a little about that stuff, like I told you, from what old clients told me. I expect he’ll be writing me back, but, well, it may be a while,” said Valerie.

“Plans to go up and see him?”

“Yes, after the first of the year. I got a letter from mister Golding outlining some of the regs in the place he was sent. He can’t have visitors until he’s been inside for a minimum of six months and that only with good behavior. I guess I just have to wait till either Chase tells me it’s okay, or mister Golding does. Chase told me to stay in touch with him, and I will be doing so.”

“Makes, sense,” said Lilly. “Val, can I ask, how are the finances. You gonna be making it okay?”

“Barely. I’m going to be looking for a cheaper place. Maybe right around here.”

“This place has apartments next door. Don’t know what they’re like, but you might wanna check ‘em out.”

“Oh? Okay, maybe I will. It’d save time getting to work. I mean, half a mile...”

“Yes.”

“You two ladies looking for company?” said the larger of the two likely construction workers coming up to them.

Valerie smirked, but Lilly looked bothered.

“You can’t afford us, pal. Just run along,” said Val. The two interlopers sneered but did turn tail.

“Jesus, you trying to piss those guys off!”

“I’ve seen their like a hundred times. It was a long time ago now, five years almost six; but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I get caught up with their likes again.”

“Hmm, well, I’m glad you’re so sure of yourself,” said Lil.

“But back to the subject. Tomorrow’s Thursday: I’ll check the place out in the morning. The manager should be in by then, right?”

“Yes. I know the guy. His name’s Fernando, and he’s usually here, in the bar, mornings. He’s even hit on me a few times. You need to be aware of that little fact.” The two women giggled.

The Saguaro Apts. room 305, had been the Benedicts’ residence since 1961. It’d been nice: two bedrooms, two baths, nice.

It was in ‘61 that she had been saved from her almost two years on the street by her husband. But now, with her husband in prison; she’d have to be moving.

The Ronson was open twenty-four-seven, but for alcohol only from 11:00 a.m. till 2:00 a.m. It was a little after 9:00 a.m. The baby was with missus Rogers so momma could do some apartment hunting.

There was a Mexican man moving stuff around behind the bar. Valerie Benedict approached him.

“Sir?”

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, a friend told me that you were the guy who manages the apartment building next door?” And it was a question.

“No, no, I don’t manage it; I own it, and this bar too,” he said, and smiled at the pretty lady. “My name’s Fernando.”

Valerie Benedict smiled back. “Got a room for rent, Fernando?”

“Yes, one, apartment 103,” he said. He looked at his watch; it was 9:10 a.m. “I can take you over and show you the place in about twenty minutes. I mean if you’d like to wait.”

“Okay, sure,” she said.

“Like a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

Fernando, made to get her the cup of coffee. He returned with it in one minute.

It was fifteen minutes later that another fellow showed up and headed for the office that she’d seen the man, Fernando, go into.

Ten more minutes and she was touring apartment 103 next door. She took it. Just $350 a month including utilities except for phone service. It was two hundred a month less than the Saguaro. She and her daughter would be eating better. They’d be moving in on the first of the month, October. She headed home. She needed to give notice at The Saguaro and get the mail.

Time passed. It was Tuesday November 1st. Her husband had been in prison for two and a half months.

Finally, the response to the letter she’d sent him.

Dear Love of my Life,

I so loved your letter. It has made my stay here more than tolerable. The one downside is that my fellow inmates are jealous. The pic of you and my little girl especially caused some stir. Yes, letters are going to be important in here. Do not misplace your pen—please.

Just so you know, I’m okay. The food ain’t the best. Wish we had more yard time; ninety minutes a day is pretty minimal by any standard. I’m told we can work our way into a better situation over time. I will be trying to do that for sure. But in the main it’s just boring here. I do a lot of reading, that’s turning out to be a good thing.

Anyway, hope to hear from you soon. Love always, dear girl. Kiss my baby for me.

Your,

Chase

She’d learned, from mister Golding, that she’d be able to visit him after the first of February. She’d need to make arrangements with miss Horowitz; she had time.