Page 76 of The River Is Waiting

“Because I’m starting to think there’s another guy in the picture—that she may be getting ready to unload her loser husband for a new model.”

“Come on, honey. It doesn’t do you any good to think like that. It’s like we say in NA: you canlook backat the past, just don’t keepstaringat it.”

“I know you mean well, Mom, but the last thing I need right now is one of your twelve-step slogans.”

From the time I was a kid, my mother smoked weed—a consequence of having to put up with my father, I figured. By the time he finally left, she’d become a confirmed pothead. She’d tried to give it up a couple of times, but she only started going to NA after they sentenced me. Told me that the first time she visited me here. She said she needed to face her grief about Niko and the terrible repercussions for me instead of escaping from them by getting high. “I keep thinking that maybe, if I hadn’t been so casual about smoking marijuana when you were growing up, what happened to Niko might not have—”

I stopped her right there. “Mom, I have to manage my own guilt about Niko every single day, sometimes hour by hour. Plus, my guilt about the pain and suffering I’ve caused Emily, you and Dad, her family. But I’m not taking on your guilt, too. Niko’s death is about whatIdid that day. It has nothing to do with the fact that you used to smoke weed. Okay?”

“Yes, okay. I’m sorry, Corby. The last thing I want to do is upset you.It’s just that the program has helpedmeso much, I can’t help but share the wisdom it’s—”

“Mom!”

“All right, I get it. You called me for a little TLC and I’m making you feel worse. And no, I doubt Emily is seeing someone else. Her mother told me she’s worried that Emily’s been isolating herself again and dropping weight. Betsy says it’s a pattern—that she gets this way around the holidays and closer to the anniversary of Niko’s… Well, you know. I told her that’s a rough anniversary for you, too. For all of us. I’m just thankful Maisie doesn’t seem to remember anything about that day.”

“Unless it’s a buried memory that will surface later. Give her another reason to hate me besides disappearing from her life.”

You have one minute remaining.

“Okay, Mom. Sorry I’m in a bad mood. Kiss Maisie for me and tell her Daddy loves her.”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Better not. I’m sure Emily would want to prepare her for—”

“Maisie, sweetheart! Stop what you’re doing and come say goodbye!… Right now, young lady.…Maisie!”

“It’s okay, Mom. Don’t force her.”

“No, wait! Here she comes. Now you speak into the phone and tell your daddy hello.”

I wait. Hear their whispered consultation. Then, my daughter’s on the line! “You know what? Gammy Vicki and I are making snakes. And later on, we’re gonna make pudding.” Hearing her small, shy voice brings tears to my eyes.

“You are? Wow, that sounds like fun. What kind of pudding?”

“Chawkit.”

“Oh man, that’s my favorite. Hey, do those snakes you’re making bite?” She giggles at the thought of it. “Do you remember who I am?”

The silence on the other end is agonizing. Is she confused? Afraid? Have her memories of me faded away?

“I’m Daddy. Do you remember when I used to give you piggyback rides and push you on the swings at the park? And read you stories at night-night?” My heart is pumping hard. My hand clutching the receiver goes sweaty. “Good Night, MoonandPat the Bunnyand… and… I haven’t seen you in a long, long time, but pretty soon—”

We get cut off at that point: conversation terminated by Securus Technologies.

I slam the phone down. Kick a plastic chair and send it clattering. “Hey!” CO Wierzbicki shouts from halfway down the corridor. “Pick up that chair and get back to your cell!”

“You got it, Officer,” I call back. “Sorry.” I try not to let him see I’m in tears.

Yeah, Emily, we lost him because of me, but I’m losing her, too. It’s not right for you to withhold her from me because of… because… So fuck you, Emily, and fuck your new boyfriend, too, if that’s what he is. Self-care? Is this how you’re taking care of yourself, Em? Not visiting me? Not picking up the phone and accepting my call? Webothlost him, not just you. And now I’m losing her, too, because you never let her see me. What’s that about, huh? Payback for the pain I’ve put you through? The humiliation I’ve caused you and your mother because you married the guy who got addicted, killed his son, and went to prison?

I’m awake for a good part of that night, my emotions swinging back and forth between resentment of Emily and sympathy for what I’ve put her through. Whyshouldn’tshe start seeing someone while I’m stuck in here? File for divorce and move on? But if she and this Evan dude start playing house and Maisie grows up thinking ofhimas Daddy, I won’t be able to take it. Not after I will have been in here for three years, unable to see her. Hold her. Play with her and put her to bed at night.

I get a couple of hours’ sleep before waking up with an acid stomach and a sour attitude. I consider skipping morning chow because I’m in no mood to put up with anyone’s bullshit. Then again, if they’re serving something bland, maybe it’ll calm down my gut.

Okay, it’s reconstituted scrambled eggs, two slices of white bread, and dishwater coffee. Could be worse. On the walkway heading back to B Block, I see Warden Rickerby coming toward me accompanied by a trio of suits—politicians, probably, getting the PR tour, which explains why they were scrubbing down the block after hours yesterday. This is about the only time you see Rickerby on the grounds: when she’s making the place seem like it’s run better than it is. The expectation when she’s in the company of visiting VIPs is that you give them a polite nod and keep moving. But I decide to risk being seen, being heard. “Warden? Sorry to interrupt, but can I speak with you about something?”

The entourage stops. “Not now,” she says. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” The metal button pinned to her coat says,Ho, ho, ho!

---