Page 51 of The River Is Waiting

“I love you so much, Emily.”

“Love you, too,” she says, but she looks uncomfortable saying it.

A disturbance at the far end of the next table distracts us. “Butlistento me, Mom! Justlistento me!” It’s Juvie, shouting at his mother. She says something to him that you can’t hear. “Yeah, but you’re not even listening to me!” He’s got everyone’s attention, including the COs.

“They had no business putting that kid in this place,” I tell Em. “He’s hostile and I think he may be cutting himself. He gave me some shit when we were waiting to come in here. He doesn’t even look old enough to be in prison.”

“They arrested him on his eighteenth birthday,” Emily says. “I was talking to his stepmother when we were waiting to be let in here. Do youknow what he did?” I shake my head. Not sure I want to know. “He took his father’s gun, walked to the dog pound near where they live, and shot six dogs who were out in their pens.”

“Jesus Christ, what wasthatabout?”

She shrugs. When I look over there, Juvie’s got his face against the table. He starts choking back these strange, hiccupy sobs. The stepmother reaches out to comfort him, then must remember the rule: no touching except for the beginning and ending hugs. Her hand freezes in the space between them. You’d think one of the COs would go over there, try to calm things down, but they stay put and stare. From her perch, Butch calls, “Quiet over there. Being able to have visitors is a privilege!”

Shaking her head, Emily says, “I hate this place. How can you stand it?”

“I didn’t think I could at first.” Jolted back to that suicide-watch cell, I flinch. “But you figure it out, you know? Learn the ropes, keep yourself busy. Calculate who to trust and who not to. I’ve been going to the library, doing a lot of reading. I applied for a job there, but I’m still on a waiting list. Hey, can I ask you something?” She nods. “I notice you’re not wearing your rings. Is that—”

“I left them in the car because I knew I was going to have to go through that metal detector. I forgot they have lockers where you can put all your stuff.”

“But what about when you’re not here? Do you wear them at school? Or when you go to the grocery store?”

“I don’t have time to go to the grocery store anymore, Corby. I order online and have our groceries delivered.”

“Yeah, but—”

“The answer is yes. I still wear them because we’re still married.”

She seems annoyed that I asked, but I’m in it now so I might as well go for broke. “Do you think we’re going to be able to weather this?Staymarried?”

She stares down at her hands on the table and keeps me waiting so long that I withdraw the question. “Moving on, do you notice anything different about me?”

“Your beard,” she says.

“And? When I grew one before out in California, you liked it. Thought it looked sexy, remember?”

“Well, you kept it trimmed back then. Your hair’s longer now and it doesn’t look like you comb it much. You kind of look like the Unabomber.”

Ouch. But I cover my feelings with a laugh. “Not exactly the look I was going for, but hey.”

“I honestly don’t know if we can weather this,” she says.

“Is that why you’re seeing Dr. Patel? Trying to figure it out?”

“Be fair, Corby. When you were seeing her those times, I didn’t ask you what you two were talking about. What I discuss with her is private.”

“No, you’re right. But just tell me. Are you leaning one way or another? Because I know your mother’s probably weighing in on—”

She looks up at me. “Stop it. My mother doesn’t get a vote and—”

“How about me? Do I get one?”

She gets hives when she’s stressed and there’s a splotch blossoming on her neck now. “Stop pressuring me, Corby. I haven’t decided anything, all right? I’m just living day by day, doing what I have to do. I don’t have the luxury of focusing on the future, so I need you to stop this right now.”

“Got it. Sorry. So tell me—”

She interrupts me to ask whether I know why she was the last one to enter the visiting room. I shake my head. “Because I kept triggering the stupid metal detector.” Her voice is shaky and the splotch on her neck has spread. “He kept making me go through it again and again, and I kept telling him it was the machine, not me. But itwasme. There was a Hershey’s Kiss in my pants pocket and the foil kept triggering it. So I felt like an idiot.”

“Oh, jeez. I’m so sorry, babe.”

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