The Politician

VALERIE

"Be a changed woman, Valerie Herman."

I waved off the female warden's voice as I stepped out of the prison gates, blinking in the bright sunlight. I don't know what day it was, I just knew I was free, and it made me happy.

It feels good to be finally out. It felt like I had wasted my whole life in prison. On a more reasonable note, I had. Eight years of confinement had not prepared me for the vast expanse of freedom that stretched before me.

I am twenty nine now. I felt old. I had come here when I still had my whole life in front of me, when I had just left college and all I wanted was to fit into all those wedding dresses that one would find in expensive boutiques or even have a famous seamstress sew it up.

"I want to get married soon." I told myself with a sad smile.

I scanned the crowd, expecting to see familiar faces, but there was no one. No family members, no friends, no boyfriend. I felt a pang of disappointment and betrayal.

I do have a boyfriend. Eight years ago, I had planned my life with someone that I knew was the right one. But now, I don't feel that was right anymore.

I had sent texts to my boyfriend, Simon, two months before my release, eager to reconnect and start anew. But he hadn't responded. Not a single word. I had tried to brush it off, thinking he was busy. He should be busy because he always checked up on me – except that he hadn't done that for a year now.

I could go see him. He should still be in the house we shared together. That was my only investment – the house and a large amount of money I entrusted in Simon's hands which I knew he would have turned it into something so great.

I saw a cab and hauled it down. I immediately settled in and the scent of stale cigarettes and worn leather enveloped me. The driver, a gruff-looking man with a scruffy beard, eyed me in the rearview mirror. "Where to, miss?"

I hesitated, unsure of the place I live. The prison had given me a few bucks, enough to get me home. "Just drive," I said finally. "I'll let you know when to stop."

The driver nodded, his eyes lingering on me before returning to the road. We drove in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the hum of the engine and the soft crackle of the radio.

"So, what brings you out today?" The driver's tone was friendly, genuinely curious.

I shrugged, unsure how much to reveal. But something about his warm smile put me at ease. "I just got out of prison," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The driver's expression changed in an instant, like, he looked at the rearview mirror and his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and he turned back to the road without a word.

I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. What was it that I said wrong? "Figures," I muttered and shook my head, the familiar sting of rejection settling in. I just left prison and I was already humiliated. What more would my own family members do to me?

The driver's eyes flicked to the mirror again, his expression unreadable. But I knew what he saw - an ex-con, a felon, a person to be feared and avoided. Maybe that was what I truly was – I ought to be feared because I had committed the most heinous crime and the worst was that, I cannot remember the details.

I sighed and closed my eyes. We drove for a few more minutes, the silence between us growing thicker. Finally, I opened my eyes and spotted my street then I tapped on the glass. "Stop here."

The driver pulled over, his movements curt. I handed him the fare, our fingers touching briefly. "Thank you." I told him. At least, I still had my manners.

As I stepped into the street, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. The world was a vast, unforgiving place, and I was just a small, insignificant part of it. I took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs and began to walk down the street.

Things change. Eight years did wonders to this little town I had found worthy of being the place where I would raise my kids and love my husband happily ever after.