We were greeted by a security officer and instructed to walk through a metal detector. From there, we made it to the check-inwindow.
“Hello, we’re here to visit Bradley Hudson,” my mom said into thespeaker.
She nudged me to get my I.D. out while she retrieved hers from her baggie. She took my I.D. and placed it with hers in the metal slot on thecounter.
“I’m his wife, Elizabeth, and this is our son, Chad,” shesaid.
“Mom, I’m Ryan,” I whispered and glanced at the officer behind thewindow.
“I know,baby.”
“You called me Chad,” Istated.
“Don’t be silly, Ryan. There’d be no way I’d mix you twoup.”
I took my I.D. back and was given a form to read over. I sat down with it and began reading the rules in the family visitationroom.
“Ryan, sign it and let’sgo.”
“I’mreading.”
“You’re stalling.” She huffed over to me and sat beside me. “You were such a brave shit to put your father here, and now you’re too scared to facehim.”
Stuff that came out of her mouth wasn’t even logical. I scribbled my name and handed her the paper. She took it back to the counter, and within a few minutes, our names had beencalled.
The security officer escorted us down a long hallway. The tile and walls were all stark white, and it smelled of bleach or otherdisinfectants.
“First time visiting?” the officer askedme.
“Yes.”
“Try to relax. There will be other families in the same room visiting others. There are guards in the room, and it’s also monitored by securitycameras.”
I knew he was trying to be nice and make me feel better, but not much would be able to help me right now. They’re probably used to seeing kids, and young adults come to visit family members, so maybe they tried to connect with the kids to ease their fears. Though, it was probably rarer to see kids in which they were the reason for their parent being behind bars. This was so fuckedup.
We entered a large room, and I quickly scanned the people. There were a handful of families murmuring, some were crying, as they sat at round tables with their loved ones. Most of the tables had adults at them, but I did notice a little boy sitting on his mom’s lap but reaching out to hold what I assume was his father’s hand. He probably wasn’t the cause of whatever his dad was infor.
I counted six guards; one was stationary beside the door, and two others stood still at their posts. The remaining three roamed slowly around the room. All of the inmates wore white scrubs. The back of the shirts had “Atwater” printed on them. I didn’t want to be there. I followed my mom to an empty table and sat beside her to wait. I would be fine waiting all day. I didn’t want to see him. My mom opened her plastic baggie and began setting the pictures of my graduation on thetable.
“Mom, why did you bring these?” Iwhispered.
“Because. Your father missed it. He would have wanted to see yougraduate.”
“He wouldn’t have cared, Mom. I wish you hadn’t broughtthese.”
I was seized with fear that she’d give him the pictures. Then he’d pass them around the jail, and I’d become the poster boy for every creepy jack off session in prison. What if one tried to find me when they got out? Fuck, my mind was messing withme.
The door on the other side of the room opened, and there he was. Fuck. Right now, I was mad at myself for giving a fuck earlier about my mom sending videos of me to USC. Send them. I didn’t fucking care anymore. I’d explain to the school what went on and beg them not to expel me. I just didn’t want to be here at thismoment.
Why did he look bigger to me? It was fear. Stupid fucking fear. His eyes were on me the second the door opened. My mom stood and began crying. I looked around to see if we were making a scene, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to us. I noticed that the guard who had walked us down to the room was looking at me. I couldn’t tell if he knew that I was the reason my dad washere.
I turned my attention back to my dad; his eyes were still on me as he was escorted to our table. My mom waited until he was at the table and then she hugged him as she cried. The guards remained while they embraced and he stared over her shoulder at me. They pulled apart, but I hadn’t moved. My mom pulled on myshirt.
“Hug your father!” shedemanded.
“Come here, Ryan. Give your old man a hug,” my dadsaid.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. The guards were rightthere.
