Free If Tomorrow Comes by Sidney Sheldon

understand anything that was happening to her. She dragged herself from the bunk and walked out into the line of women. She was standing next to the black woman. “Why do I—?”
    “Shut up!” Ernestine Littlechap growled out of the corner of her mouth. “No talkin’ in line.”
    The women were marched down a narrow, cheerless corridor past two sets of security doors, into an enormous mess hall filled with large wooden tables and chairs. There was a long serving counter with steam tables, where prisoners lined up for their food. The menu of the day consisted of a watery tuna casserole, limp green beans, a pale custard, and a choice of weak coffee or a synthetic fruit drink. Ladles of the unappetizing-looking food were thrown into the tin plates of the prisoners as they moved along the line, and the inmates who were serving behind the counter kept up a steady cry: “Keep the line moving. Next…keep the line moving. Next…”
    When Tracy was served, she stood there uncertainly, not sure where to go. She looked around for Ernestine Littlechap, but the black woman had disappeared. Tracy walked over to a table where Lola and Paulita, the fat Mexican woman, were seated. There were twenty women at the table, hungrily wolfing down their food. Tracy looked down at what was on her plate, then pushed it away, as the bile rose and welled in her throat.
    Paulita reached over and grabbed the plate from Tracy. “If you ain’t gonna eat that, I’ll take it.”
    Lola said, “Hey, you gotta eat, or you won’t last here.”
    I don’t want to last , Tracy thought hopelessly. I want to die. How could these women tolerate living like this? How long had they been here? Months? Years? She thought of the fetid cell and her verminous mattress, and she wanted to scream. She clenched her jaw shut so that no sound would come out.
    The Mexican woman was saying, “If they catch you not eatin’, you go to the bing.” She saw the uncomprehending look on Tracy’s face. “The hole—solitary. You wouldn’t like it.” She leaned forward. “This is your first time in the joint, huh? Well, I’m gonna give you a tip, querida. Ernestine Littlechap runs this place. Be nice to her an’ you got it made.”
    Thirty minutes from the time the women had entered the room, a loud bell sounded and the women stood up. Paulita snatched a lone green bean from a plate next to her. Tracy joined her in the line, and the women began the march back to their cells. Supper was over. It was four o’clock in the afternoon—five long hours to endure before lights out.
    When Tracy returned to the cell, Ernestine Littlechap was already there. Tracy wondered incuriously where she had been at dinnertime. Tracy looked at the toilet in the corner. She desperately needed to use it, but she could not bring herself to do so in front of these women. She would wait until the lights went out. She sat down on the edge of her bunk.
    Ernestine Littlechap said, “I understan’ you didn’t eat none of your supper. Tha’s stupid.”
    How could she have known that? And why should she care? “How do I see the warden?”
    “You put in a written request. The guards use it for toilet paper. They figure any cunt who wants to see the warden is a troublemaker.” She walked over to Tracy. “There’s lotsa things kin get you in trouble here. What you need is a friend who kin he’p keep you outta trouble.” She smiled, showing a gold front tooth. Her voice was soft. “Someone who knows their way around the zoo.”
    Tracy looked up into the black woman’s grinning face. It seemed to be floating somewhere near the ceiling.
    It was the tallest thing she had ever seen.
    That’s a giraffe , her father said.
    They were at the zoo in Audubon Park. Tracy loved the park. On Sundays they went there to listen to the band concerts, and afterward her mother and father took her to the aquarium or the zoo. They walked slowly, looking at the animals in their cages.
    Don’t they hate being