I shake my head, even though Ma’s already given me her side of the story. I want to hear it from him. Stories are cooler when you hear how everybody else experienced it.
Heahhs, then says, “We met in high school, senior year. Took me two years to notice her. I was busy working on my music, but when I finally put my sax down, I spotted her, and I knew she was the one for me. We kissed, had you, and got married. So, you see, it wasn’t until I was much older that I settled down with a girl. You don’t worry about that, son. Your perfect girl is waiting for you to spot her too.”
I nod, feeling a little better. It’s just a matter of time.
“Dad, when are you coming out of this place? You need to come home. Ma is sad without you.”
Dad looks down now, silent. I almost think something is wrong with the line, but then I hear him breathing.
“I uh—” He wipes his face again. “I did something the state didn’t like—something I don’t regret—a real man never regrets, you hear?”
I nod.
“Feds don’t agree with that sort of thing, so I’m here. Taking control over what matters is important. But you don’t worry about that, or me being here, okay?”
I nod slowly, not really sure what he means. Ma refuses to explain it to me. Dad looks at me with this expression that makes me feel like nothing is right and he’s hiding it. I want to tell him about my dreams of him coming home, us being a family again, but I don’t think he’d want to hear that. Besides, we weren’t really much of a family to start with. Dad was never home.
“Listen, Von, I’m happy you came,” he says. That fills me up like one of those cartoon helium balloons they sell in the mall, all full and bright. I want to say that I’m happy he invited me, but he doesn’t seem to have finished, and I don’t want to be rude or anything.
“But I don’t want you coming back here again, ever. I don’t want to see you after today,” he says.
The balloon bursts, shattering everything.
What? Why doesn’t he want to see me?
“Why?” I ask, just as the phone line cuts. A guard pats him on the shoulder, gesturing for him to stand, but my heart is beating so fast. I need to know why; I need to convince him to let me come again.
“Dad!” I yell, but he’s standing now, looking past me like I’m not there.
Then he turns and walks away. Through the green door behind him, which slams shut.
I stay, watching the door, waiting for him to run back and say he was kidding.
I thought it would be like one of those movies, where at the last minute, there’s a happy ending; people come back to each other and no one is crying. Those movies where the family—two parents, three kids, and a dog—all go to the beach together. Just for the fun of it, splashing about in the water like it hugs them the way their parents do.
My dad’s never hugged me before.
Tears rest heavily on my eyelashes, weighing them down, forcing me to blink, let them escape. My heart is racing and I feel a little dizzy.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I picture the sea. The waves crashing but not in a violent way, in a nice way, like they are loud with purpose. I walk toward the sea, kneeling, touching it, breathing in the salt, then I lie down, let it carry me, hug me.
My heart stops racing. I’m calm again, but I refuse to open my eyes. Imemorized the way from the entrance. I don’t want to see this place again; I’m not excited anymore.
So I walk on out, eyes closed, running one hand against the wall, as the waves pull me in.
The sound of a buzzer drags me out of that memory—the last memory I have with my pa. Ma told me she didn’t want me seeing him either, so I never went back. But I get curious sometimes: how he’s doing, whether he’d recognize me still.
I walk over to the chair in front of the glass screen as a familiar green door opens and Dre appears in an orange uniform. I almost gasp. Hisface.
I quickly take a seat, grabbing the phone. Dre stares at me for a bit, eyes drifting down a little to my uniform, then back up to my face. He sits down heavily on the chair and leans back, grabbing the gray phone sluggishly like it’s not got a time limit.
“Dre, why the fuck are you in here—why’d you call me?” I whisper, because it has been playing on my mind ever since I received the text from Dre’s phone yesterday, then the call. I glance at the uniformed guards a little, not sure if mentioning the calls from his phone will get him in trouble.
He shrugs. “Wanted a conjugal visit.” His voice is worn out, like he’s been yelling and it’s broken or something.
I glare at him. “We haven’t got much time, stop playing.”
