Staring at a broken swing swaying gently back and forth, I lift the sandwich to my lips.
I only take two bites before my appetite flees, my stomach too upset to keep anything down. I take a swig of the juice to help mask my nausea so I can force myself to finish the food for the sake of the baby.
My gaze remains on the swing. The calming effect it has on me is suddenly replaced by a mounting sense of unease that comes with the feeling of being watched.
I shield my eyes from the glare of the bright morning sun and my gaze sweeps my surroundings. A man is pushing a stroller over a patch of dry grass with one hand while his other holds a phone to his ear.
Another person, a woman, is sitting on a bench a few feet away, next to a fountain with birds splashing in it.
She’s dressed all in black, from the knitted hat on her head to the shoes on her feet. Even though she has dark sunglasses on, I feel her watching me.
A dog barks and she looks away.
Fearing she could be a reporter, I get off the bench and head back down the cobblestone walkway. Back in my car, I sit down with my thoughts.
I’ve been so emotional since Alex’s arrest that I didn’t take a moment to really consider the possibility that he might be found guilty, and what that would mean for me.
My mind shuts down the thought before it can put down roots, dreading the pain that comes along with it.
When I look up, I spot the woman in black again, now standing in front of the post office on the other side of the street.
Even though I’m staring at her, she doesn’t look away. She has to be a reporter or someone who knows who I am.
Heat floods my cheeks and I swing open my door.
Overcome with the annoyance of having my privacy invaded, I exit the car, ready to confront her.
The moment she sees me crossing the street, she pulls her hat lower down her forehead and walks away, almost breaking into a run. Before I can reach her, she hops onto one of the waiting sightseeing buses, and the doors close.
I stare after the bus, wondering who she is and what she wanted from me. Reporters rarely shy away from getting in someone’s face.They wouldn’t run off before speaking to their targets.
It doesn’t matter. She’s gone now. I can forget about her and focus on what’s important, seeing my husband. I wait inside my car until thirty minutes before I get to see him face to face. I plan on being early.
By the time I pull into the facility parking lot, the woman from the park is no longer on my mind.
My heart is heavy as I peer through the car window at the thick concrete walls with barbed wire lining the top.
I can’t even start to imagine how Alex must feel to be robbed of his freedom, what my father must have gone through.
As hard as it is for me, it must be so much worse for the people on the other side of the wall, those who know they’re innocent.
I cup my belly with both hands and close my eyes. “Whatever happens, we’ll be fine.”
What if he did it? Be prepared, Viola.
The thought sneaks up on me again, snatching my breath. I cover both ears with my hands and shut my eyes.
“No. No. No.” I repeat the word until the voice inside my head shuts up.
What happened to my father will not happen to my husband. Fate can’t be that cruel.
I breathe out, get out of the car, and lean against it, watching people entering and exiting the gates.
I never thought I’d visit another person I love in a place reserved for criminals. But here I am.
I won’t have to do it for long. Alex will be released. I believe in him as much as I believed in my father back then.
On my way to the gates, I flick off my emotions and my mind goes numb. I did the same thing when I visited my father in prison for the first time.
