Turning The Tables: From Housewife To Inmate And Back Again - Plot & Excerpts
. . NIGHTMARE By the time I got to bed that first night, it was four-thirty in the morning. I needed about ten hours of sleep or more after being up for so long, but I was woken up two hours later when some of my new roommates got up to get ready for their jobs. I wouldn’t be getting my job assignment for a week or two, so I could do what I wanted at this point. I was exhausted and wanted to sleep more, but I got up and said hi to the girls in my room. There were three bunks crammed in there, so I had five roommates. They were really nice and all said hi back, introduced themselves to me, and welcomed me to “the camp.” “You’re going to do just fine in here, Mami,” said Heaven, a pretty Dominican in her early thirties who was in there for drugs. “Yeah—you be OK,” said a tall woman with long dreadlocks and a thick Jamaican accent, who was also in there for drugs. “We heard you were coming.” Heaven handed me a long, detailed printed list of what I could buy at the commissary, the prison store where I could pick up the things I needed that the prison didn’t provide us.
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