Chapter 9
SERANA
Between breakfast with Roscoe and our slow, familiar wander through the grocery store, I felt myself start to relax.
Discussing recipes, meal ideas, and all the normal things we talked about while we were together was soothing.
I knew that had less to do with what we were doing and everything to do with who I was with.
I hated that I’d worried Roscoe while I was wallowing in my own thoughts and self-doubt.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t do that to him ever again.
Yes, it was horrible I’d shut out my friends, too, but they probably expected it since they were also prone to go into their cave to sulk when they were upset.
The alternative that we’d all used before our incarceration - getting drunk, high, or a mixture of both - wasn’t an option now, so solitude was how many of us chose to work through rough spots.
I thought Dr. Hamilton might appreciate that reflection and reminded myself to bring it up during our next session. I knew she really didn’t like the fact that most of us drew inward and became introspective when we were having a rough time rather than reaching out for help like we should.
While Roscoe looked up an ingredient list for a meal idea he’d seen online, I let my mind drift as I studied his profile.
He was undeniably handsome. His shockingly blond hair, in desperate need of a trim, occasionally fell over his brow until he swept it back with an exasperated hand.
His eyes were a clear blue that glowed when he was happy and darkened with his moods, growing every bit as intense as the man himself when he was focused.
And, of course, I could have admired his trim, muscular figure for days, but I knew that his physical traits didn’t really matter in the long run.
I liked the parts of Roscoe that not everyone got to witness: his quick wit, biting sarcasm, horrible puns, and even his penchant for having the last word.
I liked how he frowned when he was trying to figure something out, how he stopped what he was doing to focus on the conversation no matter who was talking to him, and how dedicated he was to his family - and to me.
I had several serious relationships before I went to prison and was actually living with a man with plans to marry before I spiraled out of control and ended up in prison.
However, none of those had been as effortless and easy as my relationship with Roscoe.
Because of how well he treated me, I had come to depend on him in ways I never imagined I could trust anyone.
Being locked up was much more solitary than most would imagine. Even though I was constantly surrounded by inmates and guards, the environment quickly taught me that the only person I could depend on was myself. It also taught me to keep my own counsel and not share too much with those around me.
Obviously, I’d made friends I trusted and still kept in touch with a few of them through the program - specifically Moe and Taylor.
The bus that took me to prison was also being used as a transport vehicle; consequently, many of the other women had experience in different facilities before they were assigned to mine.
Moe was one of those women. Luckily, we got along almost instantly, which was a relief since we were assigned to share a cell.
Now that we were living on the same property, it was easy for us to remain close friends.
I had the same history with Taylor, even though I hadn’t met her until I’d already been in prison for almost a year. We hit it off almost instantly and had been friends ever since.
Oddly enough, even though we’d become close friends, I hadn’t shared all of my doubts and fears with Moe or Taylor.
I loved that both women were so outspoken and had no problem calling me out when I was wrong, but I thought that was probably why I hadn’t talked to either of them about my family situation.
They'd have their own opinions, and I just didn’t want to hear them.
Living in prison meant I couldn’t control my surroundings. Everything was chosen and assigned, from what I ate to what I wore. The only thing an inmate could control was their own thoughts. Since everything else was a shared space and experience, it only made sense to keep some things to myself.
I knew Moe had done the same, and even though we were together day and night for years, there were still quite a few things we didn’t know about each other.
Taylor, for all of her random outbursts about her past, didn’t actually share much substance or mention her family.
I didn’t really know anything about Moe or Taylor’s family dynamic, just as they didn’t know mine.
Honestly, I’d never even thought to share it with them.
But for some reason, I wanted to tell Roscoe.
I knew that my counselor would have a field day with that, especially since I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her about my family - at least, I hadn’t been until the other day.
Somehow, talking to her about my parents and siblings opened the floodgates, and I found myself wanting to share everything with Roscoe now.
“When my dad realized I was an addict like the rest of his kids, he told me I wasn’t allowed to contact him or my mom for any reason.”
Roscoe looked up from his phone and blinked a few times before he asked, “What did your mom say?”
“I never asked. I hated the thought of breaking her heart the way my brothers and sisters had, so I cut her off and haven’t spoken to her since.”
Roscoe took a deep breath and blew it out before he asked, “Aren’t you curious about what her opinion would have been?”
“At the time, I thought it was for the best. But now that I’m sober, I feel like I abandoned her. I want to check in, but I wonder if she hates me for it.” I thought about it for a second before I said, “I want to prove that I can stay clean for at least a year before I open myself up to that.”
“You’re really obsessed with the year thing, aren’t you?”
“I guess I am.”
“It seems like it. No dating for a year, no family for a year. You’re like a kid waiting for Christmas, but instead of a puppy, Santa’s bringing you permission to live your life.
You’re waiting for proof that you’re strong enough to handle it.
” Roscoe put his phone in his pocket and leaned against the shelf, crossing his arms. “Do you really expect Santa to appear in your living room with a permission slip?”
“That’s a weirdly disturbing image, but kind of comforting at the same time.”
“That’s because, for a child, Santa represents the fulfillment of every wish. He’s a fixed point on the calendar - a magical reward for being a good kid and following the rules.”
“You’re starting to sound like the other Dr. Hamilton.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“She’s been a solid sounding board, even though she gets frustrated because I’m not exactly forthcoming.”
“You? No!”
“I stole drugs from patients who trusted me.” The truth just came out, right there in the spice aisle. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and saw an elderly woman staring in pure horror. I grimaced and explained, “I was prosecuted for my crimes and learned my lesson. I promise.”
She bolted, pushing her cart away as fast as she could. I looked back to find Roscoe grinning as he asked, “Do you really think the grocery store is the venue for this?”
“I’m not used to the silence. It makes me really uncomfortable. If I stay over, you probably won’t get any sleep because I need constant noise to drift off and stay asleep.”
Roscoe tilted his head and said, “You worded that as a warning, but all I heard was possibility.”
“This just proves what I’ve known for a while: I’m a selfish person, Roscoe.
I put my patients in danger and unnecessary pain just to feed my addiction.
Now, I’ve spent months with you, knowing that you’re in love with me, even though I can’t let myself get closer to you yet.
Part of me hopes - for your sake - that you’ll realize I’m not worth it.
But my selfish side wants you to keep things at the status quo until I’m able to say what I am feeling and act on what I’ve been dreaming about. ”
“Again, you think that’s a warning, but I’m hearing good things. I’m a patient person, but I have my own selfish reasons for the things I do too. Did you ever consider that?”
I scoffed. “You consider everyone around you before you think of yourself.”
“Oh, no, honey. That’s just the facade I present to the world.” Roscoe tapped a finger against his temple. “If you could hear what the voices tell me all the time, you’d understand. This Dr. Hamilton should probably have a nice long chat - or two - with the other Dr. Hamilton.”
I burst out laughing. “The voices?”
“It’s kind of like that movie my nieces love. Inside my brain, there are these little characters, and they’re constantly arguing over whose turn it is at the mic.”
I smiled and leaned closer. “I’m a huge fan of true crime.”
Roscoe looked confused at the change of subject. “You and every other woman I know.”
“I have to ask. Do the voices tell you to do things or just give you their opinions?”
It was Roscoe’s turn to laugh, and it boomed out as he threw his head back. When he finally got himself together, he said, “Mostly they just silently judge me. They’ve never told me to sacrifice a chicken or push someone off a bridge.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
Roscoe shrugged before he said, “I promise I’ll talk to Emerald if they ever start suggesting things like that.”
“Consideration for those you care about - and even the people you don’t - isn't a facade, Roscoe. That’s just the way you are.”
“No matter what you might think, Serana, you haven’t cornered the market on selfishness. I’m just as guilty of it as every other human - no more, and no less, than you.”
“How so?”