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Larry had given me for Christmas; the sapphire ring from my grandmother; the 1950s man’s watch that was always around my wrist; all the earrings from all the extra holes that had so vexed my grandfather. I had on jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. With false bravado I said, “Let’s do this.”
    We walked into the lobby. A placid woman in uniform was sitting behind the raised desk. There were chairs, some lockers, a pay phone, and a soda machine. It was spotless. “I’m here to surrender,” I announced.
    “Hold on.” She picked up a phone and spoke to someone briefly. “Have a seat.” We sat. For several hours. It got to be lunchtime. Larry handed me a foie gras sandwich that he had made from last night’s leftovers. I wasn’t hungry at all but unwrapped it from the tinfoil and munched every gourmet bite miserably. I am fairly certain that I was the first Seven Sisters grad to eat duck liver chased with a Diet Coke in the lobby of a federal penitentiary. Then again, you never know.
    Finally, a considerably less pleasant-looking woman entered the lobby. She had a dreadful scar down the side of her face and neck. “Kerman?” she barked.
    We sprang to our feet. “Yes, that’s me.”
    “Who’s this?” she said.
    “This is my fiancé.”
    “Well, he’s gotta leave before I take you in.” Larry looked outraged. “That’s the rule, it prevents problems. You have any personal items?”
    I had a manila envelope in my hands, which I handed to her. It contained my self-surrender instructions from the U.S. Marshals, some of my legal paperwork, twenty-five photographs (an embarrassing number of my cats), lists of my friends’ and family’s addresses, and a cashier’s check for $290 that I had been instructed to bring. I knew that I would need money in my prison account to make phone calls and buy… something? I couldn’t imagine what.
    “Can’t take that,” she said, handing the check to Larry.
    “But I called last week, and they told me to bring it!”
    “He has to send it to Georgia, then they’ll process it,” she said with absolute finality.
    “
Where
do we send it?” I asked. I was suddenly furious.
    “Hey, do you have that Georgia address?” the prison guard asked over her shoulder to the woman at the desk while poking through my envelope. “What are these, pictures? You got any nudie Judies inhere?” She raised an eyebrow in her already-crooked face. Nudie Judies? Was she for real? She looked at me as if to ask,
Do I need to go through all these photos to see if you’re a dirty girl?
    “No. No nudie Judies,” I said. Three minutes into my self-surrender, and I already felt humiliated and beaten.
    “Okay, are you ready?” I nodded. “Well, say goodbye. Since you’re not married, it could be a while until he can visit.” She took a symbolic step away from us, I guess to give us privacy.
    I looked at Larry and hurled myself into his arms, holding on as tight as I could. I had no idea when I would see him again, or what would happen to me in the next fifteen months.
    He looked as if he was going to cry; yet at the same time he was also furious. “I love you! I love you!” I said into his neck and his nice oatmeal sweater that I had picked for him. He squeezed me and told me he loved me too.
    “I’ll call you as soon as I can,” I croaked.
    “Okay.”
    “Please call my parents.”
    “Okay.”
    “Send that check immediately!”
    “I know.”
    “I love you!”
    And then he left the lobby, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He banged the doors hard and walked quickly to the parking lot.
    The prison guard and I watched him get into the car. As soon as he was out of sight, I felt a surge of fear.
    She turned to me. “You ready?” I was alone with her and whatever else was waiting for me.
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, come on.”
    She led me out the door Larry had just exited from, turning right and walking along that vicious, towering fence. The fence had multiple