Everyone looked at Suzanne, who was now drawing a detailed picture of the fictional pool on the floor with a piece of chalk. “It’s not a pool,” Suzanne said dreamily. “It’s a baptism. They’re washing away who they were.”
But then, the story shifted. It moved away from the blonde love triangle and into the pool. The real Litchfield didn’t have a pool, but the one on screen became a symbol of something they all craved: escape. The inmates watched as the characters stripped down to their underwear and waded into the murky water, laughing with a freedom that felt painful to witness.
“Forget that,” Gloria said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe they made the crazy-eyed blonde the villain. She’s got nothing on our crazy-eyed blonde.”
