| before that? It seemed almost humorous to her that she cared how she would look in the mugshots. |
| She was fingerprinted and given a breathalyzer. The machine was not working right, and the policeman who was trying to administer the test was angry and frustrated. He kept accusing her of not cooperating. His partner came in every few minutes and, speaking in soft, kind, intimate tones, told Cecelia she had better watch out. This other one was mean, he would say, and she had better cooperate or they would have to take a blood sample. |
| Cecelia told them to stop Mutt-and-Jeffing her. (She had learned about that police method in her criminal law class back in her first year of law school.) |
| They took the blood sample then, without her permission, which they could legally do because she had given her permission to be tested on the breathalyzer but would not cooperateor so they would say in the police report, would testify to in court if it came to that. Of course it was because the breathalyzer was not working right and they needed the blood sample for evidence. |
| She was drunk and therefore somewhat anesthetized and also trying to remain detached from all of this, yet she did feel a surge of anger as she watched them stick the syringe into her unwilling flesh. She felt violated. She watched the tube attached to the syringe fill with her life's blood, deep, dark red. Her very blood was taken without her permission. |
| Except for the grey concrete floor, the holding tank was painted yellow. It contained a sink and a commode. Long, narrow wooden benches ran along two walls. The room was dirty, gritty, littered with gum wrappers, cigarette butts and empty cigarette packages. It looked as if it hadn't been swept out or otherwise cleaned for a week or more and had held many temporary inhabitants in that time. Its shabbiness matched the shabby way Cecelia felt: unbathed, hair uncombed, teeth unbrushed, still wearing the rumpled clothing she had worn since early the morning before. At least, she thought, there were no wine stains on her dress. The cell had a bad smell to it, too. Just, she supposed, body odor. |
| Cecelia had two cellmates: Velma and Ethel. |
| Velma was a thin white whore with needle tracks up and down |
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