The Bars Between Us

11. 'I think you are...'

I tap the pen against my desk, staring at the clock by the door. I watch the second hand moving around the circle, which then turns into me watching the minute hand. It's 12:23 p.m. and Roman still hasn't turned up to work.

I'm kind of glad he hasn't showed, but at the same time, I need to immerse myself in work to distract myself from what happened last night and the upcoming visit with Nixon. The second hand hits twelve again, causing the minute hand to tick closer to the number five.

The phone on my desk starts to ring shrilly. I almost dive at it, lifting it up from the cradle.

"Boston Correctional Institution, Warden Roman Stevens' office. How can I help you?" I ask.

"My name is Penny Hadley; I am with the public defender office. I would like to talk to Warden Stevens about an inmate who has been asking for an appeal on their case," she explains.

"I'm sorry, but he's not here right now, and I don't know when he'll be back," I tell her, knowing it will be the next question she asks. She sighs, like she's frustrated with me. All I have done is told her the truth.

"Look, I'm a very busy woman, with hundreds of cases coming in every day. I can't stop everything because you can't do your simple job and let me talk to the warden, so I will hold while you try to track him down before patching me through," she tells me, her attitude wanting me to do the opposite of what she asks.

"Whatever you need to talk to him about can obviously wait, the warden is a busy man and he won't drop everything for a woman thinking she comes above everything else. I am his wife and I don't know where he is. However, I will do my job, and try to get a hold of him so you can move on with your oh-so-important day."

I abruptly press the button on the cradle to hold her call. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as I type in Roman's cell number, the phone still up by my ear. Hopefully, he'll answer when he realizes it's to do with work. I tap my fingers on the desk, looking up at the clock as I wait for the call to connect. I have twenty minutes until my visit with Nixon.

"Come on," I repeat under my breath as I wait for Roman to pick up. The ringing stops, so I start talking.

"Roman, sorry to disturb you but I ha—"

Roman's voicemail message cuts me off. I groan, pressing the cradle to hang up. I hit the redial button, crossing my fingers hoping that he'll pick up. I have a feeling that Penny won't leave until she gets what she wants. Seven rings later, it stops again. I wait for the voicemail message to start, but instead, Roman answers.

"What?" he asks gruffly. Surprised that he actually picked up, and slightly worried about not speaking to him since last night, I stumble over my words.

"Oh, um, I have someone on the line asking to speak to you; she's from the public defender's office," I explain.

"Put her through," he tells me shortly, with no explanation of where he is or what he's been doing.

I turn back over to Penny's line, telling her I have been able to contact Roman before redirecting her call to his phone. I place the receiver back in the cradle before deciding I should make my way to the visitation center.

*^*^*

I put my hands back down by my side, thankful that they didn't notice my deep blue wrist. I turn into the visitation area, and smile at the guard behind the glass window. He narrows his eyes.

"I thought you already knew. Roman cancelled all your visits."

"What?!" I exclaim, rubbing my wrist.

"It was after what happened yesterday. I thought you would be pleased."

"No! I wanted to continue with them. Please, let me. He can't control who I visit," I plead.