I mindlessly stared out the window and thought back to the weeks that followed the sentencing. I remembered seeing pieces of mail arrive from protective services and welfare agencies. I had always wondered what they were for or what was in them. I’d hand them to my mother, and she’d toss them on the table. She’d never say what they were and hours or days later I’d find them in the trash,unopened.
I broke out in a sweat when I saw the highway sign announcing that Merced was only fifteen miles away. I cracked the window a few inches and tilted my head upward for some fresh air. I shut my eyes and longed to be on campus in the library, or laughing with the guys on the practicefield.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the sign for the United States Penitentiary Atwater. Suddenly, a wave of nausea came over me, and I had an urgent need to throwup.
“Mom, I’m going to throw up. Can youstop?”
I unbuckled my seat belt, and as soon as the car slowed, I got out and hurled in the dried grass a few feet from the car. Nothing was in my stomach, and all that came up was bile andfluids.
“Baby, are you okay?” Mom asked as her hands rubbed myarms.
Her deep cut shirt forced her cleavage in my face. I couldn’t believe she wore that to visit my dad in prison. Chills and aches wracked my body. This was my last chance to make my finalplea.
“Please don’t make me see him, Mom,” I begged. I hated to beg like that and seem weak, but I couldn’t seehim.
“Ryan, stop being dramatic, you ungrateful shit! Just wait until we get home and I tell your brother about what you pulled outhere.”
She slapped my face and moved out of my directsight.
“Here I thought you were actually sick, but you’re just playinggames.”
I twisted on the balls of my feet to look ather.
“I threw up,mom.”
“You probably just stuck your finger down your throat. You don’t have a very good gag reflex, do you,baby?”
She repulsed me. I had to move out of the house soon. She walked around to the driver’s side and yelled atme.
“God, give me strength,” I said under my breath and got back in thecar.
“Drink some of the pop from the gas station. It’ll settle your weak stomach down. Look in my purse for some mints,baby.”
I took a sip of the warm 7-Up, which tasted awful, and found some mints in her purse. I chewed on the lifesaver mints as we pulled up to a security gate. My mom passed some paperwork and her I.D. out the window while another guard walked around the car with a K-9dog.
Once we parked, I watched my mom frantically pull contents out of her purse. She had me hold a plastic baggie while she deposited her I.D., a pack of tissues, and two pictures of my high school graduation that hemissed.
“Why are you putting that stuff inhere?”
“Because. I can’t take my purse in. Only certain objects can come in, and they need to be in a clear bag. Do you have anything in your pockets,baby?”
“Mywallet.”
“Leave it here but bring yourI.D.”
I forced myself out of the car and took a deep breath. Fear and desperation took hold of me though. I needed something that I should have known she couldn’t, or wouldn’t provide.Security.
“He—He can’t touch me,right?”
“Of course he can, baby. He can hug you. I know he’s been waiting to see you. He’ll want ahug.”
“No.”
I backed up and leaned on the car. Didn’t she understand? How could shenot?
“Ryan, stop being a pussy and let’s go. Youwillhug your father. I hope you feel really guilty about what you’ve done after you see the inside of thisplace.”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I glanced around the exterior of the visitor building. It looked okay, but my dad was inthere.
