Five Shadows

Chapter Thirty-Four

I nearly didn't go. It was cold and wet outside- the perfect day for Netflix and Barbara and jammies all day. My name was on the visitors' list, but big deal. What was he going to do if I didn't show? It's not like he could hunt me down. Ultimately what changed my mind was Ryan. I had a text at 6am (who is up at 6am on a Saturday? I wondered.) Good luck today! If I was in prison there are very few things that would cheer me up, but you are definitely one of them! You got this! He sent a gif of a lamppost shining bright. It would be really hard to tell him I didn't go. Plus, some shadow would undoubtedly come ream me out.

I put on jeans and a sweatshirt. I was going to jail.

Abby informed me of the details, but it is still jarring walking into a prison. I imagined it was an airport when I went through security, but there was nothing vacation-y about the room they led me into. I sat at a surgical-looking table. I was nervous, but it was so surreal, it was almost like somebody else was nervous and I was just watching her bounce her leg and crack her knuckles. The other visitors looked impossibly relaxed.

When the prisoners came in, I didn't even know to be shocked at how much my dad had changed because I didn't realize the man standing in front of me was my dad. I stared at him, confused for a few beats, until he said "Hi Nora," and his voice was the same one that asked if I'd finished my homework, reminded me to take the garbage to the curb, and that one day, informed me he could see me being a good cook. His voice hadn't changed, but he had aged. I'd prepared myself for the time that had passed, but jail must add twenty more years.

His hair was buzzed, but I got the feeling he was balding anyway. The fuzz that was left on his head was white. The skin on his face looked like it had been melted, then dropped onto his skull. Then, there was the jumper. I'd rarely seen my dad in anything but a suit and tie. It gave him a strong presence, but this sucked the strength right out of him. The jumper more than anything brought tears to my eyes. "Hi Dad."

We hadn't had much to talk about when I saw him on a regular basis, I don't know why I thought we might have something to discuss now. Finally, he motioned for me to sit down. "I'm glad you came." He sounded like he was talking with a mouthful of eggshell he didn't want to break.

"Yeah. Me too." Was I? It was the polite thing to say, anyway.

"I'm so sorry about your mom." For a moment I thought he meant lying to her and leaving her in financial ruin with three half-grown kids. Of course, he meant for her death.

"Thanks." Our whole conversation had a ten-second delay. He shifted in his seat. For all my pent-up anger toward him, I would have to be a real monster to not feel bad for the man sitting across from me. I had to throw him a bone. "You excited to get out of here?"

"Am I excited?" he chuckled, not unkindly. "You could say that." A pause. "But nervous too. Getting a job, finding a place to live. Stuff like that." He spoke differently. The dad I grew up with never would have said, "Stuff like that." This dad was so... informal. I guess jail could do that to a person.

Apparently, he'd also become the small talk champion of the world. We talked about, my dog, my apartment, my job (he blanched when I told him I worked for Cutter Co., but neither of us mentioned that he'd screwed my boss over.) Every now and then I caught him looking at the clock and I wondered if he was as anxious for me to leave as I was. The guard finally gave us a five-minute warning and my dad said, "well, I guess I better cut to the chase."

"I didn't know there was a... chase," I said. I was smiling, but there was a gnawing in my gut that was working its way to my heart.

He chuckled at the table, like an invisible joke was written on top of it that only people with felonies could read. "Like I said, I'm nervous about getting out of here. All the unknowns. I wonder if..." I put my hand up to stop his words, but they came like a bulldozer, plowing me over, "I could live with you? I can't live with Eric because he's too far away and- you know- parole. And Abby has so much going on with Morgan and I have the feeling I wouldn't be a welcome presence in her ritzy neighborhood and well..." he shrugged. That leaves me, I thought, finishing his diatribe for him.

"Dad." Please please please announce that we're out of time, I willed the guard. Nothing. I looked at my dad, willing him to suck the words back in. When that failed, I willed myself to "put others first" and just say yes to the guy. But the words stuck like peanut butter in my mouth.

"Just think about it!" His voice was oddly high. "No rush! Well, maybe a little rush. I'm out in just thirty days! Not in time for Christmas, but close!"

"That's time!" the guard hollered.

"Just think about it, Nora," my father repeated.I nodded. For a moment I was scared he was going to hug me, but instead I got asmile and a nod. Then I filed out of the jail with the other visitors, all of whom were crying.

*

In Abby's car, I leaned back. I was shaking too hard to drive. I drew a million squares on my leg, on the dashboard, on the console, before I finally started the engine. I couldn't go home. I didn't want to talk to anybody. There was only one clear choice.