Storm
Jay
Lang
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My inspiration for writing this first chapter was to show how devastating
it is to be judged negatively based on our sexual orientation.
Dark clouds cast a
dreary mood over the morning as the prison gates shrink in the rear-view
mirror. Even though the deafening silence in the car is fueling my anxiety,
it’s nothing like the months of hell I’ve just lived through.
Time served—nine
months in a cement jungle while my captors went to work at reprogramming my
flawed character. My father, Clay Stewart, the reluctant chauffeur for my
freedom ride, always before emanating a youthful presence, now has wide brush
strokes of silver streaming through his brown hair and deep, severe lines
around his eyes and mouth. A by-product of the stress brought on by the immense
disappointment he feels over me—his only child.
On the ferry, I
shuffle behind my father as he maneuvers through throngs of tourists and hunts
for vacant seats. After some luck, we find two seats across from each other,
and he predictably opens his newspaper and does his best to ignore me. Lines of
people walk by, looking down at me as they pass. I slouch my shoulders and
lower my gaze. An hour into the turbulent sailing, my father asks me if I’d like
something to eat. I shake my head and he stuffs his paper under one arm, gets
up, and walks down the aisle.
Looking out over the
churning sea, I feel overwhelmed with hopelessness. I never thought I’d miss
the six square meters of my cell. My mind escapes to a memory of when I was in
a school play and my father was sitting proudly in the front row. The bright
stage lights shone in my eyes and obscured most of the audience, but I could
see my dad clearly, shoulders back and wearing an appreciative grin. I felt ten
feet tall that day. That was a long time ago.
When the ship’s
whistle blows and the overhead message—“Thanks for travelling with BC
Ferries”—plays, my father and I make our way back to the car deck. As we follow
the traffic the ship, my dad turns on the radio. The song “My Girl” by The
Temptations plays through the speakers. I immediately reach out and turn it
off.
It’s the song that
Storm always hummed to me, and she's the last person that I need to be reminded
of right now.
My father glares at
me. “I was listening to that. Why did you shut it off?”
“I’m sorry. I just
really can’t stand that song.”
He turns his attention
back to the road, makes a few audible grumbles and then takes the north exit
onto the Island Highway.
Here, I wanted to show
how the protagonist, Paisley had been affected by her time in prison and how
she felt wayward and alone after being released. While doing research for this
novel, I interviewed a female inmate who was a repeat offender. She told me
that while she was in prison, she yearned to get out, but once she was
released, she yearned to be back in. She explained that “when in prison, you
know what’s expected of you, as opposed to being on the outside where you have
to try to figure it all out yourself.”
