Page 83 of Judas

“How’d you get it so close?” Her tone is heavy with disbelief.

“Memory.”

I kiss her like nothing else matters, because it doesn’t.

One gray eye, one blue—I get to match both of my girls for the rest of my life.

Chapter thirty

Babalon

Isent Kace to get me another coffee, and something for Sadie to snack on when we came back inside. She picked out a few goodies, like we don’t have anything to eat back up in the apartment. Spoiler alert: we do. I handed them over for him to add to our coffee order and took Sadie upstairs.

We cling to one another like dryer sheets, probably just the stress and trauma of nearly being burned at the stake. The mom in me hopes it’s because she recognizes me and sees I’m not a true stranger to her. Even if our relationship is unconventional and severely delayed. There wasn’t a day that went by without me thinking of her, praying the parole board would hear me out long enough to plead my case. The prosecution and media raked me through hot coals; the subsequent coverage by leeches like Warren, and the ones who were just curious and using my trial for attention, put pressure on the judge. He had to give me a stiff sentence for the assault on Kace. I’m just happy he shortened thepunishment for shooting Lucien and the drug charges—could have been much worse.

Still though, after the statute of limitations passed I started pressuring the board and they refused to give in. The last time I tried, one of them was brutally honest as to why they didn’t approve any of my attempts prior. They were making an example of me, over and over again. Saying the days where correctional officers have relationships with inmates will come to an end. And if anyone was going to set that precedence, it was going to be my case. Broke my heart but I managed.

I wrote to Sadie every week at first. Only sending the letters once a month to save on postage. Although funds never seemed to be an issue. Ironically, my commissary was always full and we know how guilty that made me feel. Birdie told me to take it as a sign that someone was looking out for me, even if I had done shitty things in the past. After that, I slowed down on how often I was writing to her. Especially when I wasn’t getting any response, limiting the letters to every few months. Regardless, I’d always send her one right before her birthday. Before my Bluitt family would put on their show of celebration for me.

It took a long time for me to come to terms with the fact that she might not want anything to do with me—perhaps she was embarrassed. Those thoughts were rough, self-depreciating, and at times I convinced myself it was justified. Seeing the way she’s clinging to me now? How she won’t let me go or leave my sight for more than a handful of minutes has me thinking the complete opposite. It’s filling my heart with so much love. Love I never thought existed, nor a kind I’d be able to accept and return in favor. The little voice is still nagging in the back of my head, wanting to ask why she never tried to contact me in return.

Did I do something wrong?

Was the content too painful?

Were her adoptive parents so critical of me that they made her think I would make her like me?

There’s a million questions running through my head now. A lot of the same ones I asked myself when I would see other inmates sit down with their families and glimpse the faces of their loved ones. The very people that gave them a home and lifted their spirits no matter the boundary of chainlink fences and cinderblock walls. Some of them watched their parents age through glass, others would sing the ABC’s with their growing babies. One time, I watched sisters talk about everything that came to mind and never argued or fought. It never occurred to me, the bond between siblings, until I watched theirs. I felt like I was further robbed by my parents for not giving me more.

One thousand, six hundred and fifty three prisoners and prison is the loneliest place I’ve ever been.

Holding her hand, we take the stairs up to the apartment in silence. This is what she prefers, I’ve noted. Her big curious eyes watch everything around her, even some of the more uncomfortable scenes that people shy away from.

For example, when we were sitting on the patio, there was a parent and child outside in a deep discussion about manners that I didn’t choose to watch. Memories and all. But she did; then she also watched a couple sitting off to my left break up—water works, the whole thing. Instead of giving people privacy, Sadie watched like she was dissecting their behavior.

Her dad—fuck me, that sounds surreal, Kace didn’t notice her shift in body language when he joined us but I did. When we actually started talking and weren’t bickering, she unfolded her arms from around her legs and let them down. At one point she was so engrossed in the way he was positioned that she mimicked him.

Currently, she’s leading the way up to the landing so I take the time to look her over. She’s in a pair of leggings and a shirt sobig it’s almost reaching her knees, hair pulled up in a ponytail sitting idly between her shoulder blades. At her other side, her hand and arm hang straight as a board, so unnatural. Then the realization kicks in and she begins to gently swing them again but awkwardly. Is she forcing it?

“Sadie,” I call to get her attention.

She stalls and turns around, her face is blank and emotionless. My brows pinch together in confusion, about to open up and ask her if something is wrong but then I see the mask slide down and her eyes soften. Giving me the most heart shattering smile. I’m not a psychologist by any means but she’s simulating what and how she thinks people should act. Camouflaging herself into society.

“Yeah?”

Damnit, what do I say now? Lie?

Wing it, bitch.

“When we get in there, go straight to the room. Don’t stop to look at Lucien, okay?”

“He creeps me out. What are they going to do with him?”

Grateful for her interaction, I still don’t know how to answer because I’ve been left in the dark. Not complaining about that; I couldn't care less what Kace does with him but if she’s curious I suppose I can find out for her.

“No idea, I’ll ask your dad when he comes up with our drinks. When we get in the room I can kick him out and it can be just us if you want.”

“Yeah, do any of the TV’s have Netflix?”

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