The White Canvas Operation

ONE (Sunny P.O.V)

'White Canvas Operation' phase two: the meeting.

Litchfield Penitentiary, New York. One month later.

"What should you wear to visit someone in prison? Something solemn and elegant? Something bright to lighten the mood? It's hard to choose, at least Cassie left very precise instructions in her last will...

Do not wear black for me.

"Red. I've picked out a fucking red suit, what the hell I was thinking of? Blue would have been more discreet. I feel like a light signal that everybody can see from far away." I take a deep breath to work up the nerve to go inside and walk through the parking lot till I reach the main door, this place is depressing... the barbed wire fence, the dry yellowish grass, the concrete building, just a few trees here and there... Everything seems so... colourless and lifeless... my artist soul feels like is suffocating here and I've barely put a foot inside. "It must've been so hard for her..."

I don't hate her. It's not her fault if she met Cassie before me and she turned out to be the love of her life. I accepted long time ago that my wife would never love me like she loved her, that I was only some sort of penitence: she was trying to make up for the mistakes of her life when she rescued me from poverty and let me live from my art but I know that she became fond of me eventually and I was the one who held her hand while she said goodbye to this world. She can't steal that moment. I wonder how she's doing right now, it's true that she lost contact with Cassie when they argued four years ago, when she told her that she didn't want to see her again, but she loved her deeply enough to go to prison for her and never retracted her statement during all those years... she must be devastated.

The depressing feeling continues inside: walls are monotonous beige, floor is grey, windows are dirty, some officers are monitoring interminable corridors looking deadly serious... Who the hell designed this place? Is it not bad enough that you have to be here but they also need to isolate the inmates from colour and happiness? I wonder what Cassie would think of this place... she'll hate it for sure, even when she was feeling very sick she enjoyed her collection of works of art and beautiful antiquities. No... she wouldn't have lasted in a place like this... Stella was right... she was very brave doing what she did. Sometimes I still feel that my wife is with me, very close. I look up and I expect to see her coming in my studio with a smile and a sandwich on a plate because I forgot to have lunch while painting... I try to picture Cassie as a ghost and I can't help chuckling: she'd be pestering me in order to force me to follow her last will instructions... "I'm doing what you told me to do, sceptical rich girl," I think holding back a smile. I can almost hear her laughing and feel her hand on my hair.

An officer with a straight face asks me to empty the contents of my bag. You're right my friend, I wouldn't be happy working in this nasty place either. I've followed my lawyers recommendations and I've only brought the minimum amount of objects I need: my wallet with my ID, my car key, my phone and the envelope with the letter inside. I'm not wearing jewels, watch or belt, like I always do when I travel by plane and I want to walk quickly through the metal detectors used in passenger screening. I've also picked out cute flats matching my red pants and shirt, I've been forced sometimes to take off my boots and to be honest I don't feel like walking barefoot on this dirty floor.

The officer seems satisfied with his search finally and he walks us to the Visitors Lounge. We're a small group, barely half a dozen people sitting at square tables made of a very battered dark wood, with plastic chairs in an eggplant colour... "Cool! A splash of colour, pity that it doesn't match the decoration at all..." I mutter in a sarcastic tone of voice. This place just puts me in a bad mood and those officers standing in every corner watching us like we're about to cause a commotion and tear the jail down don't help at all to lighten the mood in here. I look around with curiosity while I'm waiting, paying attention to the people since the building is dull and it's not interesting: there're a couple of old ladies, maybe they're mums of the inmates; some younger girls that should be sisters, friends or cousins; there's an African-American boy with amazing tattoos, I'd love to take a closer look of them, it's pretty clear that the artist is a good one... The officer that's standing closer to the door starts reciting the rules: one welcome hug and one to say goodbye, otherwise no touch allowed. One hour time limit. If you break the rules they kick your ass out; if you want to leave earlier an officer will walk you to the exit.