Turning the Tables: From Housewife to Inmate and Back Again by Teresa Giudice & K.C. Baker

Author:Teresa Giudice & K.C. Baker [Giudice, Teresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2016-02-09T08:00:00+00:00

I know my roommates told me to be careful about taking anything from anyone, but there was something about Nikki that made me feel good about her the minute I met her. As it turned out, I was right. She and I became good friends and hung out the entire time I was at Danbury. Like me, she loved to exercise. We worked out all the time together. She even taught some of the exercise classes, which was great, and let me help lead some of the classes when there were too many ladies there. All in all, I was just happy to have made a new friend.

After she left, I finished the salad and started thinking about my family, and started crying again. It was only 12:50 p.m. and the day was dragging by. It was so noisy in there because the ladies would talk and laugh really loud, yell, sing, gossip, and argue in the streets all day long. I had zero privacy and just felt like I couldn’t escape. Even though I had mopped the floor and cleaned the room, it still looked dirty. I still couldn’t believe my mattress was stained with urine or blood. At least that’s what I hoped it was, compared to the dozens of alternatives. I could literally see the dust blowing out of the air vents in my room. And honestly, I was still a little scared about being in there. I didn’t know what to expect. Even though a lot of people were being really nice to me, I didn’t trust anyone yet. I was a little worried about the scarier-looking inmates who kept shooting me those dirty looks. At this point, I didn’t know if people there got violent, and if so, how violent, so I was watching out for that, too. I thought back to the time I was almost jumped in high school . . . I didn’t see that coming. But I held my own back then and knew I would here, too, but still, I wanted to keep my eyes wide open, just like Jim and my roomies told me to.

More than anything, though, I felt lonely. All I wanted to do was talk to my family. But I found out that I wouldn’t be able to call them until the next day. As a new inmate, I had to wait twenty-four hours before I could make my first call. I don’t know why they had this rule in there, but it seemed so harsh. I was so upset. It was killing me not to be able to talk to them.

Although dinner was at 4, you could go at 3 p.m. They called that the short line. I liked that better because it was beyond crowded when everyone from the camp packed into the dining room for the main mealtimes—like Times Square in New York City during the holidays. A woman named Liz invited me to go to dinner with her on my first day. She was in her mid-sixties, with a blond bob, who always wore pink lipstick with fuchsia lip liner.

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