Page 52 of The River Is Waiting

“But that stupid guard didn’t have to treat me like I was trying to sneak something in to you. Plus, he was getting way too personal. ‘Don’t get your panties in a twist, Emily.’ ‘If your bra is underwired, maybe you should take it off and try again.’ Ugh.”

“He was saying shit like that? And calling you by your first name?That’swayout of line.” NowI’mshaky. My hands are fists. “Did you get his name? Check out his name tag?”

“No, but another guard said his name. Perkins, maybe? It began with aP.”

“Piccardy? Young guy in good shape? Blond, military-looking haircut?”

“That sounds like him.”

“He’s one of the newer ones, but he’s already proven that he’s a total dick. Struts around here letting everyone know he lifts competitively. I hear the muscleheads who hang out in the weight room can’t stand him. Maybe I should write up a complaint. Let staff know the kind of stuff he was saying to you.”

She shakes her head. “No, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Let him get away with disrespecting my wife? No way.”

“But it could come back at you. What if he retaliates?”

“So what? There’s a procedure for stuff like this. And if he tries to give me shit, I’ll havetwothings to grieve him about. I’m not powerless, Emily.”

“I’m not saying you are, but please just let it go.”

I answer her with a slight nod, which isn’t the same as promising her. Maybe instead of writing him up, I’ll confront him directly. I look around the room, fuming but trying not to let that jerk ruin our visit. That’s when I notice what’s going on with Angel and his girlfriend over there. With her back to the guards, she’s managed to undo the top buttons of her blouse. She’s got one hand still on the table and with the other, she’s fondling her breast, fingering her nipple. Angel’s got one hand on the table, too, and one hand under it. Well, hey bro, if you want to risk it, then go for it. I just hope Emily doesn’t notice.

I look back at Em and take a chance on another touchy subject. “Oh, hey, before I forget, two Saturdays from now, they’re having Family Picture Day again? They bring in a photographer and I thought maybe you and—”

She shakes her head. “She’s not coming here, Corby. End of subject.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say no. Just thought I’d ask because I want tosee her so badly. The separation’s one of the roughest things about being here.”

“You know what? Instead of thinking about whatyouwant, why don’t you think about how scary and confusing it would be forher.” She’s gritting her teeth. “She’s three years old. She doesn’t need to see the inside of a men’s prison. And do you really want to memorialize your time in here with a father-daughter photograph—the two of you posed against these cheerful gray cinder-block walls, you wearing your prison scrubs? Not to mention that if I brought her here, she’d be exposed to hepatitis and MRSA and whatever else is in the air at this germ factory?”

“Emily, kids visit here all the time and I haven’t heard of any of them getting sick or traumatized. Look at that little dude over there. He’s not focused on this being prison. He’s just happy to see his gramps and play with the toys over there in the kids’ corner.”

“I wouldn’t want her touchinganythingin here, especially toys and books that every other kid’s been handling. Let’s change the subject.”

“Babe, can I just tell you what I keep worrying about? That if she doesn’t get to see me while I’m here, when I get out, she might not even remember me. That I’ll say something to her and she’ll hide behind your leg like I’m some stranger she needs to be afraid of.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Corby. Give me alittlecredit, will you? We look at pictures of you on my iPad and my phone, mention you in her bedtime prayers. And those drawings you’ve been sending her? We put them in her ‘Daddy folder.’ Take them out and look at them sometimes. And her favorite—the ones of her and her dolls having their tea party? That one’s Scotch-taped to her bedroom wall. She insisted.”

“Well, lucky you, Emily. You can use Scotch tape. It’s contraband here. I had to swipe a couple of globs of Manny’s Fixodent so that I could stick my pictures of you and her to my wall. I don’t think you understand how much it hurts not to see her.”

She straps her arms around herself, tight as a straitjacket. “Oh, I think I can. I haven’t seen my little boy since a year ago last April.”

Her remark lands so hard that I jump up from my chair. It falls back on the floor, making a racket. “Hey, table four!” Goatee calls from up on his platform. “Pick it up and sit back down!”

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry.”

Then Juvie—Solomon—starts up again. “Shut up! Just leave and don’t come back!Hewanted me, but you never did! I wishyouwere the one who died.” His screams are bouncing off the cinder-block walls.

The guards rush over there and post themselves on either side of him. “Visit’s over, Clapp,” Goatee Guy shouts. “Get up. You’re going back to your cell.” When the kid refuses, they start pulling him off his chair. He resists. Grabs hold of the table with one hand and tries taking a swipe at Butch with the other. Then Piccardy appears out of nowhere, grabs him from behind, and squeezes him so hard that the kid cries out in pain. As he’s dragged toward the door kicking and screaming, he yells, “I hate everyone at this place and when I get out of here, I’m going to get a gun and kill all of youandyour dogs!”

The kid’s mother is crying. Emily looks so stricken, she may never come back here. Butch reenters the room and announces that visiting time is over. “Door!”

Everyone’s company stands up: Mrs. Sikh, Angel’s girlfriend, Praise’s wife and the little guy, Juvie’s stepmom, Emily. When she gives me a quick hug, I pull her closer, reluctant to let go of her. When I do, she joins the others, walking like sheep toward the opening door. Emily’s arm is around the stepmom. “See you next time, Grampy!” Cornell’s grandson calls to him. He’s the only one who doesn’t seem upset.

After the room’s been cleared of visitors, Butch says, “All right, offenders. Back to your units!”

“But we had ten more minutes,” the Sikh says.

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