Chapter 5 - The Glass Walls of Rikers
Two weeks later, the air inside the visitor complex at the Eric M. Taylor Center on Rikers Island smelled of industrial floor cleaner, damp concrete, and stale coffee.
I sat behind a thick pane of scratched, bulletproof glass, wearing a simple beige cashmere sweater and black trousers.
On the other side of the glass, a heavy metal door buzzed open.
A guard led Adrian inside.
He was wearing a dark orange inmate jumpsuit that was two sizes too big for his frame. His hands were bound at his waist by heavy steel chains, his ankles shackled together. His face was thin, his jaw covered in an uneven, patchy grey beard, his eyes sunken, hollowed out by fear and sleepless nights.
When he saw me sitting on the other side of the glass, he stumbled forward, the chains clinking loudly against the linoleum floor.
He sat down heavily on the steel stool and picked up the plastic telephone receiver with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.
I picked up my receiver and placed it to my ear.
“Clara...” Adrian’s voice sounded thin, raspy, as if he hadn't used his vocal cords in days. “Clara... please... you came. I knew you’d come.”
“I came to bring you your mail, Adrian,” I said, my voice even and cool.
He pressed his forehead against the scratched glass, tears instantly spilling from his red-rimmed eyes. “Clara, it’s a nightmare in here! You don't know what they do to people in this place! They... they put me in a cell with four men! I haven't slept in ten days! Please... talk to your attorneys! Pay the bail! I’ll do anything! I’ll sign whatever you want! I’ll leave the country! Just get me out of here!”
I pulled a single folded document from my leather handbag and pressed it against the glass for him to see.
Final Decree of Absolute Divorce and Dissolution of Marriage.
“It was signed by the judge this morning, Adrian,” I said softly. “I am no longer your wife. My name has been legally restored to Clara Sterling.”
Adrian looked at the document, his body shaking with a violent, pathetic sob. “Clara... please... three years! We had three years together! Doesn't that mean anything to you?! I was stupid! I was blinded by vanity! But I loved you! In my own way, I loved you!”
“You didn't love me, Adrian,” I said, staring into his bloodshot eyes without a single trace of emotion. “You loved the shadow I created so you could feel bright. You loved the wealth you thought you were building while you stepped on my back. And when you thought you didn't need me anymore, you used a leather crop on my body to prove to a fake mistress that you were a king.”
Adrian’s breath hitched in his throat. He looked down at his chained hands, his shoulders sagging completely.
“Vanessa’s father went into bankruptcy yesterday,” I added calmly. “Their shipping fleet was seized by the port authority. Vanessa was arrested two days ago in Miami for attempting to use forged credit cards to check into a hotel. She’s currently being held in a county jail in Dade County.”
Adrian let out a dry, bitter sound that was half-laugh, half-cry. “She lied about the baby...”
“She was just like you, Adrian,” I said. “A parasite trying to feed on a illusion.”
I stood up from my stool, smoothing the front of my cashmere sweater.
“Your trial begins in three months,” I told him, looking down through the glass. “The prosecutors are seeking twenty-two years for grand larceny, wire fraud, and corporate tax evasion. My legal team has ensured that no plea bargains will be offered.”
Adrian dropped the telephone receiver. It dangled from its metal cord, buzzing loudly against the steel wall.
He began to beat his forehead against the glass, screaming through the barrier as the guards moved in to grab his shoulders:
“Clara! Don't leave me! Clara! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
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I didn't turn back.
I walked through the heavy steel door, out into the bright, clean afternoon air, leaving the ghost of my past trapped behind the concrete walls he had built with his own arrogance.
