Motherless

50

Hector

We walked inside together. Everything felt cold gray walls, metal doors, guards with blank faces. Talia kept her chin up, but I saw the way her fingers trembled.

A guard called out, "IDs."

We handed them over.

"And your permission form. Minors can't visit without one."

I watched Talia pull out the paper she'd forged. My stomach dropped just seeing it. She handed it to him like she was handing over a live bomb.

The guard squinted at it. My heart stopped.

The guard stared at it too long enough for my pulse to turn into a warning siren.

I kept my face neutral, because freaking out wouldn't help her. But my pulse was loud in my ears.

Finally

STAMP.

"Follow the yellow line. Visitors' room is straight ahead."

We both let out silent breaths of relief.

We went through security, metal detectors, checks... the whole deal. Talia stayed quiet the entire time, eyes straight ahead, like if she stopped moving she'd fall apart.

Right before the last door, she grabbed my wrist.

"Hector," she whispered, voice tiny, "I'm... going alone."

I blinked. "Talia come on. You don't have to—"

"No." She shook her head hard. "I need to do this myself. I'll be okay."

She didn't look okay.

Not even close.

But this wasn't something I could take away from her.

So I rested my hand on her back slow, reassuring, steady.

"I'm here," I told her. "Right outside. You're not alone. Not really."

For the first time since we arrived, her shoulders lowered a little.

Then she walked into the visitation room. The guard shut the door and I just... stood there.

My chest hurt seeing her walk away, but if this was what she needed, then I'd hold the door open for her myself.

Talia

A cold metal table waited for me. I sat, my legs bouncing uncontrollably. My palms were sweaty. I kept shifting, trying to decide where to put my hands.

On the table?
In my lap?
Clasped together like I'm praying?
No, that looked weird.
Okay resting flat?
Nope, that was worse.
Why are my fingers shaking?
Stop shaking. Stop. Stop.

My thoughts spiraled.
What if she hates me?
What if she blames me?
What if she pretends nothing happened?
What if she doesn't even look at me?

Then

The buzzing in my head went silent.

Because I saw her.

A guard led her toward me. She wore orange. Her hair was messy, grayer than I remembered. Her face looked older, harder, tired in a way that felt heavy.

She didn't look like the mother from my memories.
She looked like a stranger who had lived a lifetime since I last saw her.

The guard sat her down across from me, then cuffed her wrists to the table. The sound of the metal locking echoed like a gunshot.
For a moment, we just stared.