The novel itself had changed numerous times. Annabeth could never decide on one plot, one protagonist, one genre. It wasn’t that she was lazy, no, on the contrary. Annabeth had written over five hundred pages, but much like in her day jobs and relationships, she just couldn’t commit.
When she woke up one morning with an entire story she loved all ready in her head, she had to find a way to write it. She broke it all down and realized she would need two years to write it all out, including revisions. By the time she was done outlining the whole story she was three hours late for work.
She rushed through town, running red lights and almost running over an elderly woman.
She arrived at the office supply store and there was no amount of flirting that could get her out of being fired. Dwayne had already replaced her with a college graduate, full of tattoos and piercings.
Annabeth wasn’t the kind of woman who would dwell on the past. She took her last paycheck and a stack of yellow pads, which she considered her severance package, and went home.
Mom and Dad refused to indulge her. They just didn’t see how this novel would be any different from all the others she had been writing in the past seven years. She would have to get another job. They wouldn’t even let her move back in. “Your room is now your Dad’s office.”
Annabeth pleaded: “Dad has been retired for ten years, Mom.”
“Well, he still needs a place to escape the pressures of the world.”
After her mom hung up, Annabeth started picturing her Dad sitting in her old pink bedroom, watching football, and flipping through a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. “No wonder I never amounted to anything, my own parents don’t care about me. They don’t believe in me or in my writing. Even when I won that essay competition in high school, they couldn’t bother to show up for my reading. I could win a Pulitzer and they still wouldn’t care. I guess I would have to write for General Hospital to get Mom’s attention.”
Annabeth turned the television on; she flipped the channels looking for General Hospital. When it came on, she had her best idea yet. Yes, this would solve all of her problems. She could write her novel and not worry about rent, food, bills, or even boyfriends.
Annabeth hadn’t felt this happy since the day she had met Sheldon. But in retrospect, that didn’t really turn out to be such a good day.
She practically skipped to the Gloria’s house. All of her friends were there, waiting for her. She had big news, she brought appetizers and wine. When everyone had a glass full of something, Annabeth lifted her glass and proposed a toast to the new chapter in her life. She laughed on the inside at her own joke. Then she said it: “I’m going to prison.”
She saw shocked and confused faces all around. “What did you do, honey? Do you need the number for a good attorney?” Gloria said.
“No, no. I haven’t done anything yet. Actually I will need help figuring out the best way to do twelve to thirty-six months.”
The room went dead silent. Finally, Miriam uttered something that nobody heard. She repeated it, much louder this time, startling everyone. “Is this one of your jokes?”
“No. I’m dead serious. I’m out of money and I need time to write. What could be better then three square meals a day?”
“If you need money, we’ll all pitch in until you find a job, right?” Gloria was the only voice heard. All of the husbands in the room shifted uncomfortably. They had already pitched in several times and their pity and patience were running really low with Annabeth.
“Thomas and I will help you, Annie.” Gloria really was a softy for lost causes. She would rescue anything. Thomas thought it was endearing at first, but after years of stray cats, dogs, birds, and the butterfly she nursed back to health last year, he was really tired.
“I have all this figured out. I don’t need a hand out. I have a plan.” Annabeth was determined. “This is my going away party.” She took out a piece of paper from her purse and started reading. “Tomorrow I go out and commit one of the following crimes: possession of an assault weapon, sixteen to thirty-six months. Money laundering, also sixteen to thirty-six months . . .”
“Money laundering? How in the world are going to do that, Annie?” Annabeth couldn’t let Mary finish, she was on a roll.
“Receiving stolen property, also sixteen to thirty-six months. Using personal identifying information of another to obtain credit, goods, services, or medical information, same amount of time, and finally, soliciting fraudulent insurance claims.” She looked up at them. “Which one should I choose?”
“Even if you were to pull this off, a lawyer costs a fortune and a trial takes months. How would afford that?” Richard was always the voice of reason.
“Well, if a plea guilty it shouldn’t take months.”
“That’s crazy. Why don’t you just confess to a bank robbery or something.” Gail thought her sarcasm would put things in perspective. Little did she know Annabeth was considering it.
“Do you guys have a newspaper? I need to pick a crime.”
“She was kidding, Annie! This plan is insane and we want no part of it.” Gloria prayed she would listen to reason. If there was one thing Annabeth was terrified of was loneliness.
“Prisons are dangerous, dirty places.” Thomas added.
“Not to mention the unwanted girl-on-girl action.” All eyes fell on Mary, she wasn’t usually this politically incorrect.
They went on and on with the reasons why Annabeth shouldn’t pursue her idea. She pretended to listen as she plotted her next move.
* * *
Annabeth woke up before the crack of dawn for the first time since she was a child waiting for Christmas morning. She put on her uniform, a skirt suit, pantyhose, and heels. She felt she was dressing for an audition and missed the days of her high school plays. Annabeth did her hair and put on make-up. She checked the photo several times. Without the glasses, she could easily pass. This was the best idea she ever had.
The plan couldn’t have been more perfect. She walked into the bank so that the cameras would pick up her face nice and clear. She smiled wide and walked to the cutest teller she could find. She handed him the bankcard and showed him some teeth.
“I’d like to withdraw ten thousand dollars, please.”
“I’ll need a manager signature and your ID, Mrs. Rubenstein.”
Annabeth handed him a driver’s license. “Please, call me Gloria.”
He checked the photo against the woman standing in front of him. It’s not that Annabeth didn’t feel bad betraying the one friend who had always helped her, she did. But none of her other friends looked even remotely like her. With the right hairdo, she and Annabeth could pass for twins.
He pointed to the number pad in front of her. “Pin number, please.”
Gloria also was the only one who hadn’t changed her pin number since they were roommates years ago. Gloria worked twelve to sixteen hour days and Annabeth couldn’t really keep a steady job. She would constantly run errands and pay bills for her.
Annabeth counted the cash and justified her betrayal by assuring herself that all the money would be returned to Gloria as soon as her novel was published. With interest!
She’s not the kind of woman who forgot her friends.
Annabeth counted and counted. Stealing was easy, now she had to find a place to spend it. Big purchases would draw attention to herself, and could always be returned. So, Annabeth bought jewelry. A tennis bracelet and an engagement ring. She felt so happy, she almost bought a wedding gown, but she figured by the time it was hemmed and ready, she would be in the slammer. “A waste of time,” she thought.
She went home and paid her rent, and her electric and gas bills. She cleaned her house and packed her belongings. Then she ordered a pizza and worked on her novel until the phone rang.
“How could you?” Gloria sounded genuinely hurt and disappointed.
“I’m sorry, dear. It was just business.”
“Why me?”
“You left your purse wide open last night.”
“I was at my own house! I never thought to worry about theft when I’ve known all my guests since childhood. How could you, Annabeth?”
“I need to do time. It’s the only way! Now, would you please hang up and call the police. I’m ready to go.”
“You have lost your mind! You don’t even care about my feelings, do you? I’m not calling the police! Just return the money and I’ll take you to therapy!”
“Please, don’t ruin this for me. Just call the police.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“How long until Thomas finds out? I’m sure he’ll call the police.”
It was like Annabeth had seen the future. Thomas stepped through the front door right then, foaming at the mouth and holding their bank statement freshly printed at work. “We have been robbed. I already called the bank and the police.”
Annabeth giggled and got ready to hang up. “Thank him for me, will ya? I’ll see you in two years.”
* * *
Annabeth’s plan seemed to working perfectly. She pleaded guilty, but tried not to sound too remorseful. She read that it could affect her sentencing. She was sorry, but not too sorry. So, off she went to serve her twelve months as a guest of the state. The strip search was humiliating, but she kept chanting that it was all for a good cause.
The correctional officers were less than friendly and wouldn’t allow her to have her outline. In retrospect, Annabeth wished she hadn’t pissed off Gloria. She was the only one she could have asked to mail her notes to her. Nobody else would even pick up the phone or respond to her letters. Annabeth would have to recreate everything from memory, which was counter-productive. She wasn’t too discouraged, time was on her side. Only she found the slammer was a less than perfect environment to pursue creative endeavors.
Her cellmate was a large woman named Betty. The irony was not lost on Annabeth. She suggested they would soon be known as the two Bettys on cell block C. Betty responded only with a less then friendly grunt.
Every time Annabeth made progress, her notes would go missing. She was getting really tired of the dance with Betty, but glad there had been no sexual advances. The months were passing quickly and Annabeth was still redrafting the outline. She was getting used to life on the inside. She liked the routine: the scheduled meals she didn’t have to buy or cook, the yard time so she could have breaks from writing. She didn’t sleep much or have a lot of friends, but that was no different than being on the outside. Annabeth was a nocturnal creature and did her best work at night.
But with time against her, she was considering committing another crime. However in prison her only options were contraband or violence. She was not cut out for violence, so contraband would have to do.
* * *
Annabeth ventured to the cellblock D ladies during yard time. She felt like a nerd trying to eat lunch with the cool kids in high school. She wondered why so many of her comparisons and examples had to do with high school. “I guess some scars never heal.”
She was in mid thought when she approached the D ladies with no idea of what to say.
“What do you want, Cinderella?” Helga’s long hair was the only feminine trait on her body.
“I want to get into the contraband business.”
“What?!”
Annabeth almost ducked, fearing a blow to the head. “I need money. I want to work.”
“Betty told me about you, princess. You’re the writer, right?” Helga’s short and stumpy girlfriend, Olga snorted at the end of the sentence to show her disdain.
“This isn’t a game, book worm. This is our lives and we’re not going down for you.”
She now knew telling Betty her motivation for being there was a mistake. Annabeth had thought it would be a good way to bond with the witch.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want in on the scam you guys have.”
The women moved in one motion. Annabeth thought that was it. She saw herself walking toward the light. But the women were moving away from her, a wave of angry large women, just floating as far away from her as possible. Just as they disappeared around the corner, Carla, a scrawny girl with glasses, winked at her.
Annabeth wasn’t sure she had seen what she thought she seen, but when she went back to her cell that day, Carla had left her a present. A note detailing an assault on another inmate. All Annabeth had to do was confess. She would also get points with the D ladies and would forever get protection and contraband.
Annabeth was ready to do it when she got a visit from her court appointed lawyer.
* * *
Against her better judgment, Gloria had written a letter to the judge pleading in favor of Annabeth. She requested Annabeth serve under house arrest instead of in prison. She mentioned Annabeth’s good heart and misguided writing ambitions. She talked about the years of friendship they shared and how Annabeth only took the money because she knew Gloria would lose her house or go hungry without it. Gloria talked up Annabeth so much, she even convinced herself for a brief moment.
But the judge didn’t respond to her heart felt letters until Gloria mentioned Annabeth’s crazy idea of doing time so she could write. This caught the judge on particularly bad day.
His wife had just served him divorce papers and he was on a warpath. With no prenup, she was going to get everything, including his jag.
When judge Miller read about Annabeth using the prison system as some sort of full-ride scholarship, he was livid. He was ready to have her be released, just so she would have to find a job like anyone else.
All he could think of was his soon-to-be ex-wife laying on a beach with the new breasts he paid for, sipping on drinks he would pay for. She would probably never work again thanks to his fortune. Miller had to set an example for women everywhere. He had to send a message to women that men are more than bank accounts and that life is not all about a free ride.
He was doing society a favor by saving everyone’s tax money. He couldn’t stop his wife’s scam, but he could stop Annabeth’s.
Judge Miller made a call that reshaped Annabeth’s future forever.
* * *
Annabeth’s court appointed lawyer was the bearer of good news. Judge Miller had a sudden attack of goodheartedness and filed for Annabeth’s immediate release. Needless to say she was less than enthused. In fact, she reacted like she was just given news of a family member’s passing. So, when Annabeth’s lawyer gave her the fine print around her release she thought she was going to die.
He said very nonchalantly that Judge Miller also ordered that Annabeth Clink never be allowed to publish any written materials for profit.
“He can’t do that, can he?”
“I could appeal, but what’s the big deal? You’re free! You should be ecstatic.”
When Annabeth didn’t respond, he finally understood.
“That whole writing a novel thing was true? I thought it was just a lame excuse you gave because you were too embarrassed by stealing from your best friend. That’s why I didn’t use it during your defense.”
“Why did you tell the judge then?”
“I didn’t, your friend Gloria did. I guess that made him angry.”
“Can he really do that?”
“He’s a judge.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Go home and get a job.”
As Annabeth walked the last few feet of prison halls she wondered if it was too late to attack a correctional office. Her future never looked so bleak.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Julia Camara is a Brazilian writer/filmmaker living in Los Angeles. She has a B.A. in cinema from Columbia College-Hollywood and she’s a UCLA Professional Program in Screenwriting alumna. She has written several feature length screenplays and short stories, and she has also produced/directed short films. Julia has one screenplay optioned and two others in development. One of her short films "Reduced to Dust," is available for sale on DVD at the CreateSpace.com website and on Amazon.com.
