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It was Big Bertha who backed down. She gave Ernestine a contemptuous look. "I ain't in no hurry." She leered at Tracy. "You're gonna be here a long time, baby. So am I. I'll be seein' you."
She turned and walked away.
Ernestine watched her go. "She's a bad mother. 'Member that nurse in Chicago who killed off all them patients? Stuck 'em full of cyanide and stayed there an' watched 'em die? Well, that angel of mercy is the one who got the hots for you, Whitney. Shee-et! You need a fuckin' keeper. She ain't gonna let up on you."
"Will you help me escape?"
A bell rang.
"It's chow time," Ernestine Littlechap said.
That night,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], lying in her bunk,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Tracy thought about Ernestine.
Even though she had never tried to touch Tracy again, Tracy still did not trust her. She could never forget what Ernestine and her other cell mates had done to her. But she needed the black woman.
Each afternoon after supper, the inmates were allowed to spend one hour in the recreation room, where they could watch television or talk or read the latest magazines and newspapers. Tracy was thumbing through a copy of a magazine when a photograph caught her eye. It was a wedding picture of Charles Stanhope III and his new bride, coming out of a chapel, arm in arm, laughing. It hit Tracy like a blow. Seeing his photograph now, the happy smile on his face, she was filled with a pain that turned to cold fury. She had once planned to share her life with this man,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and he had turned his back on her, let them destroy her, let their baby die. But that was another time, another place,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], another world. That was fantasy. This is reality.