The Divorcee Murder Club

Epilogue ~ Part One

                 It’s been a long eight years. Yet, not so long the sun warming my face should feel illegal. But it does. In prison, spending time outside was a reminder that I was caged like an animal, with controlled hours when I could enjoy the simple things I once took for granted. So, standing outside of the walled structure where I spent years counting down the days to my liberation, feels like I shouldn’t be allowed to bask in the warm rays this freely. 

My ride finally pulls up, so I chuck my cigarette at the ground and stub it out. Who would have thought that me, of all people, would pick up a smoking habit? It was hard not to give in. Nicotine wasn't just a form of currency in prison. It became a way to pass the time and to soothe anxieties.

In a way, it became a friend when I had no one else.

“Ahhh!” Angie leaps out of the car, and I’m surprised she shifted the gear into park with how excited she is. “My Handsome is free!”

We run to each other, and she flings herself into my arms, her legs hooking around me as I spin her around. She smells so good, so I bury my face in her neck. Behind her, Ana is filming us with her phone, and her boyfriend David emerges from the car, holding a bundle of balloons. They’re cute together. They met at a special needs vocational school a few years ago and worked their asses off to become Veterinary Assistants. Angie couldn’t be prouder. They also encouraged her to adopt a puppy.

Two years after I went to prison, Angie was finally diagnosed with a severe case of Endometriosis. I used Augusta's money to pay for the best specialists and tests, but ultimately, they recommended she have a hysterectomy. Angie cried for days. Deep down, she still hoped she could have a baby, but we agreed her health was more important, and she had the surgery. Since then, the pain she lived with for years has vanished, and now she pours her mommy love into that spoiled canine she calls Daisy.

With my arm draped around her, we walk to the car, where I hug Ana. Daisy barks at me from the window, her tail wagging. It fills my heart with a warm happiness that spreads across my chest. Familia.

I am now complete.

This is what life is all about.

“What’s my mom up to?” I ask Angie.

“She had to take Steve to the hospital for his Chemo treatment. She wanted to be here, though.”

“Hey, she’s where she needs to be. I’ll talk to her later.”

“What do you want to do first?” Ana asks. “Are you hungry?”

“Honestly, I just want to go home and take a long, hot shower and put on real clothes.”

“Then let’s go!” Angie wraps her arms around my torso and squeezes me with a delighted sigh, “This is the best day ever.”

And it is, but it doesn’t feel real yet.

Things are just different—even the cityscape that whips by as we head home. There’s new construction everywhere and new apartments and strip malls where there used to be none. When we cross the bridge into San Francisco, it feels like home with its familiarity, but there are new skyscrapers and much more traffic than before. As Angie drives us through the city, it’s too noisy. Busy. 

So I close my eyes to block it out.

“Tired?” She squeezes my knee.

“Yeah. I’m ready for a real bed.”

She brushes her fingers across my knuckles, where the letters of her name are tattooed. Who would have thought I’d leave prison with more tats than I went in with? My mom hasn’t seen the portrait of her face I had done on my right shoulder blade or Cha Cha scrawled in cursive right next to it after the poor old girl passed away.