Turning the Tables: From Housewife to Inmate and Back Again (31 page)

I was also glad that viewers got to see a little more of the Joe I know and love. My Joe is so sensitive, has such a big heart, and is such a good father and husband. That’s why I love him so much. What they didn’t show enough of was how much he laughs! He would call me and say something like, “I’m at the friggin’ Apple store getting Gia’s phone fixed—again,” and then laugh at how he was now the chauffeur, assistant, chef, hairstylist, homework helper, and everything else. As he laughed, he’d say what he always says when life is sweeping you along for a hell of a ride: “Whaddya gonna do?”

I loved seeing them when they all gathered around the kitchen table to talk to me on the phone. They all looked so adorable. I wanted to give them one giant hug from Danbury. My beautiful family . . . God bless them all . . . I planned to watch the special over and over again when I got home, because I think I missed a lot because I was so emotional.

My brother and I were getting along better when I was in prison, thank God. I always enjoyed talking to him on the phone and hearing from him on email. I knew it was hard to come see me, his big sister, in prison. When he sat with me in that visitation room, we really were the Joey and Tre from years ago. Any hurt or pain from the past had just disappeared. I cried when I saw him break down when he got back in the car after coming to see me for the first time. That’s when I knew, deep in my heart, that things were going to be better between us. He wasn’t acting for the cameras. This was Joey, with his heart on his sleeve, reeling over seeing me locked up in there and having to leave—without me. I had no idea that it would take me being in prison for us to finally break down those walls between us. But as I have seen in prison over and over again, God works in mysterious ways . . .

Melissa and I were also in a good place when I went to prison. I appreciated her being there for my girls when I was gone, like the time she took them for mani-pedis while they filmed the special. My hope was that we would continue to get along when I got out. I wanted to feel close to her again and I was hoping she did, too. But these things take time. And that’s OK.

A
fter the special aired, a lot of people at Danbury asked me who had emailed me or called me while I was in there. I emailed with Joe and the girls, of course; with Joe’s family including his sister, Maria, his sister-in-law, Sheila, and his cousin, Teresa, who helped Joe so much while I was gone; and with my close friends, including Kim R., Lisa G., Rosanna H., Lisa F., Linda B., Rose C., Leah B., Tracey C., Nicole P., Dana T. and Dana L., Priscilla, David, Josephine A., Anna D., Giovanna D., Julie B., Tina S., Jackie R., Robyn K. and Christina, Diane P., Andy Cohen, and my brother, Joey. I love them all for keeping in touch with me.

I kept in touch with Dina, who took Audriana to the American Girl doll store in New York City for her sixth birthday, which made me so happy. My brother and my mother came to see me, along with Lisa G. and some of my other friends. Rino Aprea called Joe all the time to check on me while I was in prison, which was so nice. His wife, Teresa, and her sister, Nicole, asked about me, too. Melissa sent me notes and pictures of our kids. My niece, Antonia, and my nephews, Gino and Joey, sent me cards.

A
fter the three parts of the special aired, things calmed down for me in there and it was back to business as usual. I wasn’t the center of attention anymore, and wanted to have a little fun. I had an adorable Latina girl named Cinnamon put cornrows in my hair (which I called corn rolls at first!). I had seen other girls with them and thought they looked cool. Everyone was laughing along with me and started calling me the OG: Original Gangster. Who would have thought: Teresa Giudice, an OG!

I laughed when I looked in the mirror, thinking about how I would never have gotten cornrows in my real life—my life back home. I wondered how that would have flown on
RHONJ
. I never could have pulled this off in Jersey. I felt like,
Yeah, I’m in prison and doing what everybody else here is doing because I am a part of all this, too.
These were my girls. My prison sisters, whether they were black, white, Asian, Latina, or Russian. I will never forget them and all that we went through together.

The whole thing with the cornrows made me laugh, which made me feel so free. Sometimes, you don’t realize how bogged down you are until you laugh till your stomach hurts. It’s in those moments that I knew I would come out of this whole ordeal stronger. A better person. Ready to take on the world.

M
y family came to Danbury that day for an event they throw in the fall called Oktoberfest. It was amazing. They held it in back of the camp, and I couldn’t wait for my family to see the track, where I had spent so much of my time at Danbury, walking, running, and just thinking everything through. I can’t believe I am even saying this, but I knew I was going to miss that track. It was another thing there that had kept me sane and was a lifeline for me.

At the Oktoberfest, my daughters and I held hands and walked up one of the hills and then ran back down to Joe. They loved doing that and were laughing the whole way down. My family is just so beautiful. And stronger than I ever knew possible.

O
ctober 23 was quite a day for me. Not only was it my sixteenth wedding anniversary, but it was the day that Jim was able to save our house from foreclosure. He had worked nonstop with the bank to make sure we could keep it. I was so happy and relieved when he told me we could stay in the house. Later that night, Joe called. He and the girls had dinner with Dina at our house. He was also relieved that the girls and I could continue to live in our house, the house they had always known. I knew we would be okay. We always had been, and always would be. In recent months, I had found myself thinking, amid all the stress, difficulties, and bullshit,
God, am I thankful for this life.

I wasn’t thankful, though, for the lack of sleep I got on Halloween. I don’t know what was going on, but it was
crazy
in there that night! The girls were bouncing off the walls, running through the streets, hooting and hollering and having so much sex! My cubicle was near the bathroom, and I had never seen so much action go on in there in all my months at Danbury. Honestly, I think there was an orgy going on. I had never seen so many feet in those stalls before. We always said, “What happens in Danbury, stays in Danbury,” but really? I tried so hard to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. As I watched pair after pair of ladies run to the bathroom to do God knows what, I kept thinking,
I can’t deal . . . I just can’t.
I found out later that two lovebirds actually broke the sink off the wall after having sex on it! Thank God I was getting out of there soon . . .

I
t was early December. A gorgeous morning. I got up at 6:15 a.m. like usual, went to breakfast and had my oatmeal with raisins, and did my yoga (I can’t start my day without it now), before going to sit outside to drink my coffee, which had become my morning ritual. When I first got here, I didn’t even know you were allowed to sit outside, let alone drink your coffee out there. I liked to call it my “coffee time.” I wondered how much longer I would be able to sit outside without freezing to death.

As I sat there, thinking about how beautiful it was out, my buddies Tonya, Shannon, Shaniqua, Blaire, Josie, and Nikki joined me outside. Most of them got up later than I did and always made fun of me for being such an early bird. But I loved being around them because we always laughed the whole time. I love being around positive people.

We sat around talking about the big newsflash of the week: how we heard that a bunch of inmates were being sent to the Federal Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn after throwing a big bash with a hundred dollar cake and lit candles. I heard that four lieutenants raced up to the room where they threw this party and demanded to know where they got the candles and how they lit them. For four lieutenants to charge into a party like this, I knew it had to be serious. I was just glad that I was not there because I heard that everyone who was there was getting shipped to Brooklyn. (In the end, they didn’t. They got moved and they got shots.)

The conversation then turned to how I was leaving in a matter of weeks. My friends told me how happy they were that I was finally getting out, but said they would miss me so much. “It’s not going to be the same without you, T,” said Shaniqua. I told her I was going to miss them all and that I loved each and every one of them for being there for me and helping me get through this nightmare. “What I will miss most is how much you make me laugh!” I told them.

“You want to laugh some more?” said Blaire, who started doing a skit with Josie about me and Tonya, acting out how much of an “old married couple” we were, which made us roar. They called us the Bickersons, because we always bickered—but in a loving way. Tonya had truly become one of my closest friends there and I was happy we were so comfortable with each other. Our stomachs hurt so much from laughing so hard. I had tears in my eyes. It was just so silly. Just what we needed in there to break the monotony.

We also talked about how, for the first time ever, I got to help cook dinner for all the inmates! I was so happy to be back in the kitchen. I helped the ladies there make tofu with stir-fry vegetables (with the biggest pan I have ever seen!), as well as meatloaf, rice and peas. It took me a little bit to get used to using the equipment in that huge kitchen, but I had so much fun! I cooked along with two other Italian ladies, so we spoke Italian the whole time, which I loved. I even got to help serve the meal. It was a great way to wrap up my stay there.

It was nice to sit there and chat with the girls. We had gotten to know each other so well over these many months. We had had our ups and downs, like we would have had anywhere, but somehow we’d made it work. I lived at home throughout college, but I imagined dorm life was a lot like life in prison: you rode the highs together; you laughed together; you argued with each other; you pissed each other off; you got stressed-out about things and vented to your fellow students to get you through the day. We did a lot of complaining in there—about the living conditions, the food, and other inmates, but through it all, we truly needed one another. But at least we had each other to lean on. Of course, I say this all with a grain of salt: I never forgot that some of the women in there were hard-core criminals who would sell their mother for a dollar if they could. But not my friends. They were good people.

The other girls were getting really cold, so they decided to go inside. “Hey, T,” Shaniqua said. “You comin’ in?”

“No,” I said. “I’m gonna stay out here for a bit.”

They headed inside. I curled my legs underneath me and held on to my coffee cup with both hands to keep warm. I looked at the acres of rolling hills that had became barren now that the leaves had fallen off the trees. I had loved looking at the open land surrounding the camp starting in the winter, when I got there, when the hills were completely white and it looked so peaceful out my window; then in the spring, when it turned bright green; in the summer when it got hot and brown and then in the fall, when there was an explosion of red, yellow, and orange. It was almost winter again. I had made it almost a year in Danbury, and had come full circle. I had actually survived prison. I learned so much while I was confined within those four walls—not only about myself, but about other people. I never knew I would be able to turn such a horrible situation into a positive one—one that would teach me how to be a stronger person.

I thought back to how scared I was before I turned myself in, and during my first weeks at Danbury, wondering how Joe and the girls were going to handle life while I went away for so long. I remember being nervous about how the other inmates were going to treat me—and whether I would be totally skeeved out by the place. I remember being surprised at how fast I got used to living there. I made friends right away with a great group of girls, who showed me the ropes and helped me find my way. I got into a routine and was able to accomplish the goals I set for myself. I read. I watched TV. I learned to be adaptable and strong. I vowed to live every day like it was my last when I got home.

I wanted to stay in touch with some of the girls I’d met when I left. I wondered what it would be like when I got out and they were still in there—and then what it would be like when we were all out. I was hoping my relationship with some of the girls I was the closest to—like Nikki, Tonya, Blaire, Shannon, Josie, Franchie, Koolaidra, Katie, Shaniqua, and some others—would stay the same, or as close as possible to what we had when we were in there. But we all knew that as intense as things were at the time, we all would be released, move on, and go back to our lives. The relationships we shared there would never be the same again. But that was OK. I was just glad that they were there for me to help me through one of the toughest times of my life—and I hoped that they felt the same about me.

The one thing I never got used to in prison (besides the food!) was missing Joe, the girls, my parents, my family, and my friends. The hardest part of prison was trying to live with that aching feeling in my gut that never went away. Some of my Danbury friends told me it would get easier, but it never did. I felt guilty for being away from Joe and the girls. I knew how much they all needed me. Even though we had tried so hard to keep me out of prison, in the end that’s where I was sent and there was nothing I could do about it. All I could do was stay strong for myself and my family. I learned that no matter how tough things become, you can get through anything with strength and resilience.

As I sat there, thinking back over the past year, one thing that became a lot clearer to me was that I had sometimes let negativity cloud my vision during some of the traumatic things that had happened to me in the past six years. But that’s not who I am. In my heart of hearts, I am a positive person. I always have been. So while I was in prison, I realized that I needed to reach way down and find that sunny spirit that always looks at the glass as half-f and view the world through those eyes. It’s just better that way.