“I’m sorry, Tracy. I didn’t mean it like that,” Daddy Greg says. “I feel your daddy coming home. I didn’t mean to put you out like that. I’m just saying, I was gonna be ready this time.”
Ms. Candice hands a glass of sweet tea to Daddy Greg. I look at them with envy that they’re back together, but Tasha’s not looking like she’s happy. She’s looking at them like she’s lost. Been betrayed.
“We gotta go.” Tasha spins, grimace on her face. Not even realizing while she’s mad at her dad, mine’s still in a cell block.
Tasha storms off without me.
“All right, I’ll be seeing ya.” I lean back awkwardly with my hands shoved in my shorts pockets.
“Don’t worry about all this,” Daddy Greg says. “I gotta prove myself. She’ll come around.”
We look at each other, nodding. But Tasha’s gone hard; her walls have climbed so high that I don’t know if she can break them down and let anyone in.
* * *
The car is silent, so I pull out my notepad and start a letter to Innocence X.
“Damn, you stay writing letters.” Tasha breaks the silence. “I’ve only written letters to Daddy Greg. Never even knew what to say then.”
“Gotta reach them somehow.”
“Why don’t you call them?” Tasha says, backing up her car. “Just call until they answer. Email.”
“They don’t take email or phone calls for cases. Only letters and applications to their intake department.”
“It sucks your dad’s locked up, but at least he’s still a good dad. Hell, he could trade places with Daddy Greg. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Tasha.” I put my pen down. Jokes about death row I don’t take lightly.
“Sorry.” Tasha taps my leg. “I didn’t mean you better off than me. Just having Daddy Greg home isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He’s trying to fold into our lives, and he just don’t fit, you know.”
“He’s been gone,” I say, then pause. “Time stopped for him but kept moving for y’all. You guys will figure it out. Even if he was here all that time, you’re seventeen—you were gonna give him hell anyways.” I bump her shoulder and she only gives me a sliver of a smile.
I bite my tongue to keep from saying how easy it is for her to think that. She had a clock to work with. Mine is different. Mine is a countdown.
“Can’t change the past, Tasha.” My voice is strained from irritation.
Tasha huffs but keeps her thoughts to herself.
We keep our chitchat light for the next hour, knowing we’ve touched nerves. I count down signs until we reach Livingston, a small town where Polunsky Prison is located.
Silence completely takes us over again. Everything else washes away except the fast beat of my heart as we take the long road past acres filled with grass and farmland. Then we see the fenced-in wall of the maximum-security prison. It’s twenty feet tall along rows of cinder-block towers with razor wire atop it. From a distance, you can see the guards standing on top and the surveillance cameras lined up around the perimeter. As usual, an uneasy feeling swirls in my stomach. But this time is different—I defied Mama during Jamal’s interview. Lied about new suspects, and I’m certain Daddy’s heard all about it by now.
THE APPLE OF OUR EYE
We turn into the prison’s parking lot. A roar of laughter escapes a group of boys perched outside. They circle around one guy who’s trying to play it low-key. His eyes shift, watching the parking lot. A black garbage bag is sprawled on the ground in front of his feet, confirming he’s the one just released. Also by how his boys are all hype. They punch playful fists at each other, rapidly spitting out catch-up stories to him. I think they might be so into themselves they’ll ignore us parking, but the second we drive toward the visitor lot, I hear their chatter.
“There you go, man.” I’m not sure who says it.
A whistle blows out long and low.
“Not a chance,” Tasha says out the window.
His boys huddle, laughing, saying “oooh.” Their voices eventually fade as she pulls into the lot farther away from releases.
I give a grateful smile to Tasha for driving me the two hours to visit Daddy. Knowing she’ll be out here waiting for me when I’m done.
I enter the first small building and join a short line, dump my things in a yellow bin. The security woman smooths her hands down my arms, up my waist, across my bra line, then down my legs.
Then I go to the next building and wait until I’m called over the loudspeaker. I sit by a small round-table bench as the prisoners line up behind the glass. I’m grateful they changed the rule to visit death-row inmates, and I don’t have to come all this way to pick up a phone to talk to Daddy through a glass window.
There’s a buzz, then a clank as the locks release and the door is propped open by an officer. Rushing in to see their visitors, a few guys bump into one another.
My heart stops, hoping this doesn’t turn into some altercation that’ll shut down visiting hour while they go into lockdown. Or worse, I witness Daddy getting into it with someone. I shut my eyes for a moment, thinking about the first time I saw him with injuries. I blink the memory away.
It takes so much out of me and the family getting ready for a visit, hiding our own troubles. Always finding a way to ball it up during our visits so we don’t put that stress on Daddy.
The men size one another up until one’s distracted by his son yelling, “Daddy! I see Daddy!” He turns to mush, then gives the guy a dap.
A grin takes over my face when I finally spot Daddy in line. He’s tall, with broad shoulders that are covered by his white jumper. His beard is grown in a bit, and he’s kept his Afro about two inches. He used to keep his hair lined up before prison. Considering everything, he still looks the same to me, which gives me comfort.
Daddy scans from corner to corner until he finds me at the table. I warm over at his matching grin. I tap my fingers nervously until Daddy takes a seat in front of me.
“You came,” Daddy says.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought your mama might’ve locked you up after that stunt you pulled. What were you thinking?”
I put my head down.
Daddy flicks at my hair, then shoots out a bellowing laugh.
“You should’ve seen your mama’s face on television. Eyes all bugged out. It’s probably the one time in my life I was glad to be locked up, so I wouldn’t be on that car ride home or have to stay up listening to your mama talk my ear off all night about you, girl.”