Vivian Schurfranz - Laura

She stared into the darkness, hearing the drip, drip from the faucet and a scurrying, scratching noise. What was it? Her blood ran cold. Rats! It had to be rats! She turned on her side and curled up in a ball, shuddering. Her shoulder sent sharp shooting pains down her arm. She tried her best not to cry again. How could the suffragists stand a seven-month jail sentence? She closed her eyes against the scratching noises and tried to sleep, praying for freedom. She must have more confidence in Miss Paul. She would have them out in the morning.

However, the morning light, streaming through the barred window, brought no news. Only a breakfast of watery cereal which, when she lifted the spoon to her mouth, she was sure held a maggot. She threw down the spoon, retching. Perhaps she was just imagining worms, thinking of the many journal entries she’d read of the suffragists in the Virginia Workhouse. The inmates had been given moldy, wormy food, day in and day out. She glanced in the direction of Rowena and Mrs. Lewis. Rowena tasted the thick mush that passed for porridge, while Mrs. Lewis had disdainfully pushed her bowl aside.

Laura remembered Mrs. Lewis’s diary and recalled the force-feeding scene. Would they force-feed them in this prison if they didn’t eat? She stared at the bowl’s contents, but there was no way she could pick up the spoon and try to swallow the awful lumps.

Gingerly she sat on the cot’s edge with her stomach churning. She thought of Mrs. Lewis’s ordeal when she had been in prison last winter. Five people had held her down, forcing a tube between her lips and shoving it down her throat, letting the fluid gush into her stomach. Laura observed this quiet woman who had been so stalwart that she had tried to stop moaning, for fear it might upset her friends in the next room. What courage and concern she had! Just looking at her serene face gave Laura renewed strength.

She clenched her teeth. She’d never let a tube pass her lips. Then she groaned audibly. They had ways of force-feeding other than through the mouth. In Lucy Burns' journal she had written that five people forcibly held her, and when she wouldn’t open her mouth, they had shoved the tube up her left nostril. Laura pressed her clenched fist against her mouth. She had to get out of here. Where was her mother? Where was Miss Paul?

The matron, with a contemptuous flourish, removed the bowl. "You can starve if you want to, Missy. You ain’t got much meat on those bones the way it is, so if you want to get sick, go right ahead!" She sneered, shrugging her massive shoulders.

"The food is buggy," Laura retorted, coldly staring into the matron’s eyes.

"Hmmpf! Miss High and Mighty. We’ll see if you’re still so uppity after you’ve gone without eating for a few days!"

Laura almost jumped, but she wouldn’t give this witch the satisfaction of seeing how her words panicked her. A few days! Who knew how long they’d be shut in this terrible place?

Suddenly the iron door at the end of the corridor clanked open, and Alice Paul and Lucy Burns walked down the aisle. They spoke encouraging words to each cell’s occupants.

When Lucy Burns stopped at Laura’s cell, she said, "We’ve made a special plea in your case, Laura. After all, you’re only sixteen, and we want you back in school on Monday."

Nodding quickly, Laura swallowed and tried to smile. "Oh, yes," she said, almost pleading. "I need to be back by Monday morning or Mr. Cole will see that I’m expelled."

"The court order is in Judge Murphy’s hands right now," Lucy said confidently. "We’ll keep checking on your release." The small silver pin glinted in the early-morning light, and Laura thought, I hope I won’t earn a bar emblem for a seven-month imprisonment like she did. Maybe, Laura thought, in the next hour she’d be free.

But the next hour brought no news. Alice and Lucy had left with promises of a quick release, and Laura knew they were sincere, but she also had misgivings. The courts moved slowly, and there was no guarantee she would be out by a specified date. She hit her fist on the bars. Time was so important! Even if she were released Monday afternoon it would be too late. She would be expelled! If that happened she might as well run away from home. What could she do all day? Her mother and Sarah would be humiliated and wouldn’t want her underfoot.

She squinted up at the tiny window, wishing she could open it and let in some fresh air, but it was bolted shut. She should do what Miss Paul had done months ago when told the cell window mustn’t be opened. She had thrown a book by Elizabeth Barrett Browning through the window. The smashed pane allowed a breeze to blow throughout the cell block, and several prisoners had commented that it was the first time in years they’d had fresh air. Alice must have been an obstinate prisoner for the wardens to deal with. Despite her petite frame, she was ninety-five pounds of pure stubbornness.

Laura smiled grimly as she braided her hair. She’d seen several roaches, and braids were better than thick hair flowing over her shoulders. She quivered at the thought of bugs in her food and bugs in her hair.

"Laura Mitchell!" the matron yelled. "You have visitors in the waiting room." Her heavy footsteps resounded down the hall, and when she appeared, fitting a large key in the lock, even her unpleasant face was a welcome sight. To escape confinement if only for a few minutes would be sweet, Laura thought.

Entering the large room with a table and three chairs, her heart leaped at the sight of her mother, Sarah, and Joe. Joe grinned when he saw her and gave the thumbs-up sign.

Tremulously she smiled back, suddenly conscious of her drab prison dress with the rounded neckline and too-large sleeves. Her hair pulled back and pale face must shock her mother.

Mrs. Mitchell and Sarah both rushed to her side, hugging and kissing her. They offered what sympathy they could. She was only glad they didn’t say "I told you so."

"Oh, poor Laura," Sarah exclaimed. "If only we could get you out." She clucked her tongue in dismay, looking around the room distastefully. "It’s horrible in this place."

"I — I know," Laura said, fighting back tears and wishing she were going back home with them for a lovely lunch. She was hungry, and her stomach rolled. She glanced over Sarah’s shoulder at Joe. How wonderful he looked.

He stood with his arms folded across his red-checked shirt, watching every move she made. When his eyes met hers, a grin spread across his dark face, reassuring her.

Disentangling herself from Sarah and her mother, Laura moved into his arms. "Joe, Joe. I hate it here, and they don’t know when we’ll be released!" She wiped her eyes, determined not to cry.

He patted her back and said, "Be patient, little one. Miss Paul has Opal Zacks working on the case. She’s one of the top women lawyers in the city."

"Yes, but can she get me out by Monday?" she inquired, sniffling. "If I’m not in school Monday I’ll be out for good."

For a long moment they said nothing. With his arms around her she felt safe and secure. Never mind that she didn’t know when she’d be free. "Do you think I’m stupid for getting involved in the Women’s Movement?" she asked in a whisper.

"Of course not. You know I approve of what you’re doing." He cupped her face in his hands. "When you come home, I’ll show you how much I care, little one."

Their eyes locked. What a sweet feeling to be with Joe. He was her strength, and he did care for her!

"You know, the time you spend in here will scarcely be remembered." He stroked her hair.

Disagreeing silently, already she was beginning to tremble at the thought of returning to her dismal, cramped cell. "I — I wish I were going home now," she said in a light voice, trying to be cheerful, but she could scarcely get the words past her closed throat.

"Soon, soon." Solemnly he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Be brave, little one."

"Time’s up!" snapped the matron. "Back to your cell, Laura Mitchell!"

"She’s only sixteen. You’ve no right to hold her," Mrs. Mitchell said indignantly.

"I know nothing about age or sentences. My job is guarding prisoners. The judge makes decisions about whether this miss should go free or not."

Maude, eyes worried but filled with love, slipped her arm around Laura’s waist and pulled her close. "She shouldn’t be thrown in with hardened criminals."

The matron snorted. "She’s in with her own kind — those infernal suffragists. If you call them hardened criminals, then she’s in with the worst!" She grasped Laura’s upper arm. "Come on, missy."

Sarah ran up and kissed her. "We’ll keep working to get you out. Our next stop is Miss Zacks’s law office." Then she leaned close and whispered, "Shawn will be here tomorrow."

Laura smiled. "I’m glad," she said in a low voice, giving Joe a sidelong glance. She didn’t know why she was being secretive. Joe knew about Shawn, and it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, she wished he would show a twinge of jealousy, just a twinge once in a while, but he didn’t.

The matron’s fingers dug into her arm and, with a rough tug, pulled her along. Laura winced, for a tongue of flame burst across her shoulder blade.

As she allowed herself to be led away, she turned and blew first Joe a kiss, then her mother and Sarah.

The clanging of the corridor’s iron door sounded so final, and she drew back in front of her cell and halted.

"Hey, missy!" the matron rasped. "None of that!" With a yank she moved her forward. "Don’t give me any trouble!"

Anger exploded within Laura against this bully, and she wheeled about, confronting her. "Leave me alone," she said between clenched teeth. "My shoulder is black and blue, and you’re hurting me."

Immediately the matron released her arm. "All right, but don’t try any funny stuff!"

Amazed, Laura stared at her. It was as if the matron was afraid to touch her. Then Laura smiled. Now she knew the reason. There had been too much national attention focused on the suffragists' treatment in jail. A little spunk, rubbing her arm, and standing up for her rights, thought Laura, caused this woman to let go of her arm.

Opening the cell door, the matron glowered at her but didn’t touch her again. "In with you," she snarled.

Once the cell doors shut, Laura sank down on the cot. The day stretched interminably ahead.

The long hours dragged by, and she still couldn’t bring herself to touch her food. She glanced at Mrs. Lewis and Rowena, who were eating their bread. The corridor was very quiet. How frustrating not to be able to speak to one another! The silent corridor with its long shadows appeared ominous and eerie.

Later, when the lights were turned off, she stood on tiptoe on the cot’s edge to peer through the bars. The Capitol dome shone in the streetlights. Bitterness flooded through her. The dome was the symbol of freedom, democracy, justice! Words, words, and more words. They meant nothing.

Saturday night was almost gone, and there had been no messages all day.

Throwing herself on the cot, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Was it all a hideous nightmare ? Would she wake up tomorrow in her own bed? But as she stared at a roach skittering across the wall, the bars throwing black stripes along the moonlit wall, she knew this was real.