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JEWEL
Iopened my eyes, only to be blinded by the bright, morning light gushing through the window beside my bed. Throwing my pillow over my face, I let out a groan.
Today was visitation day.
Moments later, my roommate’s alarm blared out a maniacal bleating sound that made me want to smash it to pieces with my biology book. Apparently Sofia felt the same way because her hand snaked out from under her covers and smacked the top as she attempted to put it out of its misery. One inadvertent swipe of her arm, and the clock was swept off her night table, smacking hard against the wooden floor and finally stopping its incessant racket.
“Thank God,” she muttered, turning over and snuggling back under the covers.
Rubbing my eyes, I sat up in bed. I’d give her another fifteen minutes before I attempted to wake her up again. I swear the alarm was more for me than her. She banked on the fact that I would most definitely be awake and give her a few extra minutes before prodding her to get up. Sofia was not a morning person. I had lucked out, having her as my roommate. She had roomed with me in the summer, when we both stayed on campus to take classes, and now again for the academic year.
Super smart and hardworking, Sofia was a native New Yorker like me, although she grew up in a predominantly Dominican neighborhood in East Harlem. Unlike the girls I grew up with, she and Cat didn’t judge me for having a father in jail. Like Cat, who’d had relatives in prison, Sofia had a first cousin in Rikers Island. Now, that was a real hellhole.
I tiptoed around quietly, gathering what I needed to take a shower, and softly closed the door behind me. Once I was back from the bathroom and dressed, I woke her up.
Stretching, she picked up her cell phone to shoot a text to her little sister, whom Sofia followed carefully. Once done, she tossed her phone on her night table, wrapped her arms around her bent knees, and asked, “Today’s the day, right?”
“Yup,” I mumbled out.
Today was the day I went to visit my father upstate at Otisville Prison Camp, a minimum-security prison for nonviolent, mostly white-collar criminals.
“Want me to come along?” she asked.
My brows rose at that one. Cat had once asked me the same thing, which was more proof that Sofia was a good egg.
And I replied to her the same way I did to Cat all those years ago. “No, I’d rather go alone. I appreciate the offer, though.”
I didn’t want to mention I might not even see Dad today. On more than one occasion, I’d made the trek up there and been told that visitation had been rescinded due to behavioral problems. It was wrong and irrational, but I hated him a little bit on those days. Not only had he broken our family and landed in jail, but then he couldn’t keep it together to make sure that I saw him?
It was tough, the seesaw emotions of having an incarcerated parent, because I knew it wasn’t easy for him in there. My father was a proud man. He was independent-minded and used to being in control of his life, the two things that were automatically taken away when you became part of the prison system. The movies that showed inmates living a life of leisure were depicting a thing of the past, if it had ever existed. My father had dropped twenty pounds in the first month because the quality of the food was so awful, and it wasn’t only because he was used to eating like a king. He never did gain them back, either.
And I couldn’t even complain when he was guilty of the crimes he was accused of, ruining the lives of thousands of people. His situation was considered a luxury compared to most other prisons, like where Sofia’s cousin was doing time.
“Alright,” she said. “But if you change your mind, I’m ready to go.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and gave her a quick hug.
We both had early morning classes. Afterward, she would leave campus to spend the weekend with her family, coming back on Sunday after church.
“Text me when you’re done with your visit, you hear me, chica?” she commanded as her dark eyebrows lowered into a serious expression. “If you’re feeling down or whatever, I’ll come and hang out with you tonight. I know Cat’s busy, and I don’t want you to be alone if you’re bummed out.”
“I’ve been through it enough times to know the drill. I’ll be okay, Sofia,” I promised.
I pulled the door open and stepped out as Sofia called out after me, “Text me or I’ll hunt you down!”
With a last wave goodbye, I closed the door behind me.
* * *
I passeda court of middle-aged men playing handball, dressed in white shirts and khaki pants, and walked up to a dreary beige-colored building that housed the inmates. Like every other Friday afternoon when I came to visit my father, I drove eighty miles north of the city and turned into the now-familiar two-mile road up to the parking lot. The first and only time I came here with Mother, I’d been frightened as our car swerved around the sharp curves of the thick forested road. Now, I could appreciate the scenery, with its pop of color in the autumn leaves.
Going through security was always a hassle, but at least Dad hadn’t misbehaved, because they let me through. I let out an involuntary breath of relief, remembering the many times I’d reached the end of the line only to be turned away because his visitation had been pulled. The fact that it crushed a teenager coming to visit her only father was a nonfactor. Family unity wasn’t high on the list of priorities for the U.S. Bureau of Prisons, I thought angrily.
After so many years, it was still a shock whenever I entered the visitors’ room. Everything, and I meant everything, was painted a variation of the color gray. It was as if they’d brought in a decorator to create the most depressing room possible for the reunification of families. The floor and walls were a light gray while the doors, tiny window frames, and bolted-down tables and stools were a darker gray. I watched the other partners, spouses, and children greet their loved ones as I waited in the drab room.
My father stepped inside, wearing the requisite forest-green outfit, shirt buttoned up and tucked inside his pants, fastened with a cheap belt. His head was neatly shaved, as per regulation. Even though this was a minimum-security facility, my father never completely let down his guard, although his hazel eyes warmed upon spotting me.
He gave me a brief hug, all that was allowed, before sliding onto a metal stool across from me.
