Valentine’s Day at the county jail
The county jail is right downtown a block from the historical society, the train station, and the boba place. I can see the barred windows from any of the windows from my loft. If I open the door to the patio at night, I can hear hollers about what I imagine to be an exciting card game, and the clang of dropped weights.
But, it’s ten o’clock at night on Valentine’s Day and the men have visitors. They stand outside on the street five floors down. The women look like they’re dressed to go out to the club. The women wear very short skirts, big hair, and some pretty amazing makeup. These are idealized versions of the way they want their men to remember them by. Versions that say “I haven’t changed, and I’m not going anywhere.”
These women couldn’t wear these outfits to visiting time. Some of these outfits you actually couldn’t even wear to the club. These outfits are perfect for this time and place though. There are no rules being broken. The women are hanging out, and the men are allowed to look out the window. The women probably wouldn’t hang out long if a black & white came rolling up, but for now the police have better things to do, or I like to think they purposefully ignore what’s happening.
This all takes some amount of organization I would imagine. The women have to make sure they have time off from work. They need to find a babysitter, and for those that can’t, they bring the kids along. Tomorrow’s President’s Day so the kids don’t need to worry about school, at least not tomorrow.
There’s organization on the men’s parts too. They make arrangements over the phone. “Ten o’ five, 5th floor, third window from the left. Park the car in the second spot so I know when to look for you”.
As I walk by on the sidewalk near where their minivans and GM sedans are parked, the wives and girlfriends look really friendly with each other. They turn their heads side to side so the girlfriends of other inmates can help primp. They’re all helping each other make sure they look their best.
Tonight, at least one of the women is wearing a wig. A red wig. It is Valentine’s Day after all. This peculiar favor to the men is inspiring, the men who’ve been convicted of doing something wrong. Drugs, violence. Our world doesn’t have much room for drugs or violence anymore.
As I walk past and turn the corner, one of them yells “happy Valentine’s Day, Papi!” I look back momentarily and a figure, backlit by fluorescent lighting stands there waving.
It’s a rare, pure form of dedication, affection and love I’ve seen in a long time. Unapologetic, public, and too sweet to be obscene.
An unconventional Valentine’s Day for these women and the men they love. The men wish they could give them more today, but they’re separated by cement, steel, a hundred yards, and five stories. The women probably wish they could give their husbands more too, but this is what they can give. And for tonight, that’s plenty.
