Page 106 of We Already Dug the Grave

I cursed, wishing not for the first time I had a cell phone or navigation system.

Anything would be better than the atlas spread over the steering wheel. I’d purchased it at a Texaco as soon as I crossed the state line into Alabama. It was a confusing bundle of squiggly lines threaded over an outline of the state. I frowned, tracing the line that represented the path I needed to take.

When I finally made sense of where I was and where I was heading, I pulled out of the rest area and backtracked almost an hour before correcting my wrong turns and arriving at the correctional facility where Mama had lived for the past decade. It was only a few hours from Puddle Creek, and it hit me for the first time how close she’d been all these years. The fact that she’d never, not once, allowed us to call or visit or even written us back felt like even more of a slap in the face. She’d been right here all along.

There was a guard at the gatehouse, an older Black lady whose curly brown hair was streaked with threads of silver. Her round eyes were kind, but serious. I rolled down my window.

She asked, “You visiting?”

“Yes ma’am,” I said. “My mama.”

“You have an appointment?”

I paused, unsure of what to say. They had to let me in. “Uh, yes ma’am.”

The guard stared at me for a moment, and I knew—I knew—she didn’t believe me.

“Your mama, huh?” She pursed her lips.

“Yes ma’am,” I said. “Um. Sorry, I’m nervous. This is my first time.”

The guard nodded slowly and sighed. “Any firearms, knives, weapons, drugs, or alcohol in the vehicle?”

“Uh.” My voice shook. “I’m sorry?”

“You can’t have weapons, drugs, or alcohol on prison property. Do you have anything that could be considered a weapon in your vehicle?”

“Um. No, ma’am,” I said.

“Pull up, cut the engine.”

“Ma’am?”

The guard smiled. “It’s procedure. Calm down and take a breath. Pull up, put it in park, cut your engine. I need to look in the back of the truck. I’ll do the same thing when you leave. I do it to every car that visits.” She paused. “Not everyone has to turn off their engine, but you look young, and I don’t want you to back over me because of nerves.” She chuckled as if she’d made a joke.

I did as she asked. She circled the truck and pointed toward a parking lot. “You’ll park in that lot. Go in that building there, tell them you have a visiting appointment. They’ll walk you through the rest. And baby?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Breathe. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to see your mama.”

I smiled. She was right. Not about everything being okay, but about Mama. The idea of seeing her now, when I needed her most, made everything…not right, but better. Like I might survive this after all.

As long as I never shut my eyes or blink or think of Casey…

Inside, the room was small, with another guard at a desk behind a plexiglass window. A woman and a man were in line. I stood behind them, listening in to their conversations. They were visiting their daughter, who they hoped would be out soon, even though the idea of having her back was exhausting. There was a buzzing sound, and another door opened. A guard ushered them through.

“Next?” the guard behind the window called. He was white with ruddy skin and sandy hair buzzed short, making his bushy brows and mustache stand out that much more. “Have your identification ready.”

I stepped up and slid my driver’s license through the slit in the bottom of the glass.

“Who are you here to see?”

“My mother,” I said.

The guard raised his brows. “What’s her name, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” The telltale warmth of a blush crept up my cheeks. “Uh, sorry. Lilibet Waters.” Mama’s name was awkward on my lips.