“Is this your first time in here?” I ask her.
“Nah, I’ve spent as many nights in here as I have on the out. I was fourteen the first time I rolled through here.”
Fourteen?
She was so young. I want to ask what she was brought in for, but I don’t want to ask too many questions and upset her if they drag up bad memories.
“How old is your kid? Can’t be that old by the looks of you.”
“How do you know I have kid?”
“The eyes. Women who have kids have this sadness embedded in them.”
“She’s three months.”
“Fuck. That must hurt to be away from her.”
Squeezing my eyes closed for a moment, I blank the pain out and simply nod.
“Do you have any children?” I ask.
If we’re talking about her life, then I’m not thinking about mine. It’s better.
“No, I’m not momma material. I wouldn’t wish me on anyone.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I say, hoping it’s not true.
“Would you want a mom who turns tricks seven days a week to fund a crack habit?”
“I see your point.”
She runs her fingers through my hair and I still, not wanting to move till she backs off.
“I’d kill for hair this soft. So, no man, one kid, tell me more,” she says spinning my mind.
“Haynes. Amelia Haynes,” an officer hollers, saving me from having to answer.
Slipping off my cot, I go to the doorway and the officer beckons me down.
“You have a visitor.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, hoping it’s my dad. I can’t sit any longer talking with the lawyer. He goes on and on and I zone out. It was simple, tell whoever needs to hear it what really happened, and they let me go. Yet no one’s listening and keep talking about cleaning up the city from crime.
Every time the guard slams a door behind me and locks it, it goes straight through me. I don’t think anyone can ever get used to this.
Opening the last door, I step inside the visiting room and Darius is sat at the table, not my father. I’m expected to sit, and I do. Most of his tattoos are covered up but the one on his neck is pretty hard to hide.
“How you doing?” Darius asks when the guard moves on.
“How do you expect? Is Elsa with my dad?”
“He’s busy trying to get you out of here so she’s with my mom.”
“How is she? How is she doing with her feeding? I’m drying up.”
I’m dying to hear any information about her.
“She’s doing good, Amelia, the switch to formula has been fine, but I’m more interested in you right now.”
