Elaine was a big, shy black girl with a strange mohawk-like haircut. A soft and a gentle handshake that belied her beefy appearance. A transsexual somewhere along the road to completion, her outfit was an androgynous mix of overalls, a blouse-like T-shirt, and a rope of beads that sparkled dimly. Her finger nails were painted a dark blood-red.

She answered my questions quietly, with a smile that was at once timid but somehow flirtatious. As I finished up the paperwork I asked how long she had been out of jail.

“Almost a week”, she said.

“And how long were you in?”

“Three and a half years”.

“Wow, you must be feeling great around now”.

“Yes, I am”

I imagined some drug-related victimless crime. What I could not imagine was 3 ½ years in jail for this timid, disoriented transsexual.

Her roommate was, as far as I could tell, born a woman, though she seemed much tougher than Elaine. She was in fact the stereotype of a hardened female con, lined black face set in a permanent sneer as she smoke quietly in the background. Silent she may have been, but her presence was slightly menacing – as if she were protecting Elaine. Even though she was half Elaine’s size the role of protector was easy to imagine, especially when, abruptly, she spoke.

“Don’t y’all do birthday baskets any more?”

“Sure we do.”

“Well, it’s hers.” The menacing unspoken threat ‘so what you gonna do about it?’ hung in the air.

I turned back to Elaine. “It’s your birthday? I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know, I’d have brought you a basket”.

“Oh, that’s OK”.

“No, it’s not. Sometimes new clients don’t get on the birthday list right away. But don’t worry…” this as much for the benefit of the glowering protectress… “I’ll make sure we send you a belated gift basket.”

“That’s nice”.

Still, I guess you got your best birthday present a week ago.

The timid smile widened and sparkled. “I sure did”.

“Well Happy Birthday. Come here.”

I gave her a big hug and she giggled shyly, coy as a blushing geisha.