Soft knocks pull my gaze to the door. It opens just enough for MC’s face to appear. The moment she sees my drenched cheeks, she rushesin and drops to the floor, pulling me into her arms. I open my hand so she can see the results, and sadness creases her face.
“Oh,mi amorcito,” she murmurs, holding me tighter. “One day. One day.”
I don’t believe her. Not when it feels like the world is ending.
My hopes are as empty as my womb.
MC stays with me as I cry for the child that never existed, my arms wrapped around my stomach, protecting a life that was never there. Even with her beside me, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alone. My body feels like it’s betrayed me, leaving me stranded in grief.
If we don’t win the trial, I’ll lose Lex forever. And I may have just lost the only leverage I could have had to stop it.
Maybe my father was right. Maybe this pain isn’t worth it.
But what’s the point of life without Lex?
Chapter 08
Lex doesn’t call during the week that follows our argument. Not once. I miss him and his voice, even if he was never very talkative during those calls.
There aren’t that many ways to interpret his silence, so I’m nervous as I make my way to Sheridan’s reception desk. He’s mad at me for my reaction last time. Mad that I didn’t see his point. Mad at the things I said.
Because we need to have such a personal discussion, I asked Kevin if he’d be okay not coming this week. If he were here, I doubt Lex and I would address what happened last time, but we need to. I’m still not on board with his plan to cut me out, so I don’t plan on apologizing any time soon. But I’m sure we can agree to disagree and still make the best of whatever we have left.
Like I’ve done five times now, I walk up to the clerk behind the desk. “Hi, I’m Andrea Walker, here to visit Alexander Coleman.”
I wait while she types something on her computer. Her frown isn’t part of the routine, so I immediately worry. “Sorry, ma’am. That won’t be possible today.”
“Does he have something scheduled? I don’t mind waiting.”
“No, that’s not the issue. The inmate is in the SHU.”
“The SHU?”
“Special Housing Unit,” she explains. “He’s on two weeks of disciplinary segregation.”
“Wait—what? Are you certain?” I insist.
“Yes, ma’am. It says right here.” She turns her screen toward me, showing Lex’s name. Next to it, she points to a line that reads:Two weeks disciplinary segregation. Thirty days loss of commissary and phone privileges.
Is that why he didn’t call the whole week? Not because he was mad, but because he was in isolation?
“Is he there for his protection?” I wonder.
She exhales, clearly running low on patience. “No, ma’am. It says here he exhibited violent behavior.”
Now, I know it’s a mistake. Lex isn’t violent. If he was part of some fight, it was in self-defense. Punishing him for it is unfair.
“I’m sorry, but I really think the information you have is wrong. Alexander isn’t violent. He couldn’t have deserved to be put in isolation for two weeks.”
“Listen, I get you want to believe the best in whoever you’re here to see, but you’ve got to realize the inmates are in here for a reason. The software is never wrong, so if it says he was violent, he was.”
Once more, I refuse to believe it. “Is there anyone I can talk to about this?”
She barely holds back an eye roll at my request, but indulges, given the line of people growing behind me. Turning to her colleague, she asks him to go fetch someone and then invites me to go sit in the waiting room.
Two weeks of isolation sounds extreme. And the timing… If he’s coming out next week, it must have happened after I left, which has my stomach in knots. Was he on edge because of me? I was angry when I left, but I still noticed how pissed he seemed. Did our argument cause whatever has him in isolation?
After about ten minutes, a man wearing a wrinkled green shirt and gray trousers arrives. “Hello, are you Andrea Walker?” he asks, extending his hand. I nod as I stand up, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Alan Winters. You’re here to visit Mr. Coleman, right?”
