Sing Sing Correctional Facility
The air in the hallway is thick with sweat. The guard smells of stale cigarettes and rank pussy, but this is a men’s prison, so he obviously didn’t think a shower would have been in order before starting his shift today. He sucks his teeth as he walks, and scratches his oversized gut. His sickly blue shirt is hugging him tightly, the buttons clinging to the fabric for dear life, and he keeps pulling up his black pants.
He looks over and smiles down at me for what seems like the hundredth time. He’s missing a few teeth here and there, which makes me wonder how much he paid his hooker for a fuck back at his place.
“You must be someone special, kid. He usually declines visits from everyone,” the guard says as he unclips a large ring of keys from his belt. I raise an eyebrow at the gold ring around the third finger on his left hand and then back up at him.
Maybe he’s nice?
I’m clearly in no position to judge someone based on how they look or act, but I can’t help it. Being judgmental has gotten me this far in life, and I think I’ve been doing okay for myself—not that I’ve been given a choice.
However, I refuse to let the past hold me back. I owe it to myself to be better than the steaming pile of shit life has tried to bestow upon me.
And that’s why I’m here.
I can’t move forward without all my questions answered, and I’m not entirely sure he’ll be willing to tell me what I want to know.
“I guess so,” I reply softly.
The guard sucks his teeth again as he fiddles with the keys until he finds the right one to unlock the gate. It’s a sound I’ll have nightmares about, if it doesn’t drive me mad first.
He finally pulls the white, steel gate open and motions for me to step in. I nod at another guard who’s heading our way. He smiles at me and returns my nod as I wait patiently for the next leg of the walk.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asks me, as he continues down the long hallway.
I look up at him with sad eyes and shake my head slightly. I know his curiosity is meant to be a small kindness, but I don’t want to get too personal right now. If I get all the answers that I’ve come for, I won’t need to come back again.
“Ah, that’s alright,” he says with an understanding nod. “We’re almost there anyway. My name is Officer Davis, and if you need anything from me, you just call out my name, ya hear? I’ll come over and help you out if shit gets to be too much.”
“Thank you,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods again, and we continue the rest of the walk in silence. One more heavy steel gate, one more jingle of the keys, before we finally reach our destination. A small room with only a single, clear pane of glass sitting between two chairs and two wired phones. I glance up and see a camera, its red light watching me, careful to record my every move.
“They’re bringing him up now. Do you want me to stay with you? I’m not really supposed to, but I can if you want me to.”
“I’ll be okay,” I reply, sitting down in the chair.
Liar.
“Alright,” he says with a nod. “Remember; if this gets to be too much, you knock on this door and yell ‘Officer Davis’, and I’ll come in and break it up, okay?”
I glance up at him and smile weakly as he turns and walks out. The palms of my hands are sweating, and I quickly wipe them on my jeans as I glance up at the camera again.
Then, I hear him—his laughter, his casually loud voice, as he jokes with the corrections officer who’s bringing him to the room. It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen him, and I’m not quite sure if he’ll look the same. He’s been here for the past fifteen years, waiting for the needle—an eye for an eye. We live in one of the states where if you take a life, your life will balance the cost of the transgression.
I become rigid as the door opens and the officer enters first, a smile on his face. I can tell that he genuinely enjoys his company, and I can understand that, because once upon a time, I did too. I thought he was the greatest man who ever walked the face of the earth, and to be honest, he really is.
I drop my eyes to my hands as I hear the chains rattling. He’s walking into the room now, and his laughter has subsided. The officer with him gives us both some rules, and even though neither of us are listening, I mumble a meager “okay” just to get him to leave.
He sits in his chair—I know it, because I can hear it creak under the weight of his body—and picks up his phone. My lower lip trembling, I reach for mine and place it to my ear, before I finally look up at him.
Ten years changes a man, but not this one—not much. The last I had seen of him was a picture he sent me five years ago when he finally responded to my letters. He still looks similar to the man I remember, except now he’s got some gray streaks in his shorn beard, as well as some white showing evenly on the sides of his short, black hair. He seems bigger than when I last saw him. He’s always been a solid man, yet I don’t recall him being this steadily built. I can tell he doesn’t have much to do behind these walls, and he seems to pass the time by spending his days in the gym.
But his eyes. Oh, his eyes are still the same. Cold, hard, and the most beautiful light brown color I’ve ever seen, like my favorite milk chocolate candy bars he would give me when Momma wasn’t looking.
Our secret, baby girl. You know how she gets with sweets, he would say each time. Hoyt Blackburn always knew how to keep a secret or two in his day. He made damn sure I was just as good as being tight-lipped about some of the things he did that I’d stumble onto by accident from time to time. And the easiest way to keep a little girl quiet was to give her her favorite piece of candy.
Sweet like a piece of candy. I’ve heard that little phrase uttered enough times as a child, I think with a slight shudder.
But here we are after ten long years, face to face again, and perhaps for the last time.
Hoyt’s staring at me with a curiosity and warmth that makes me tremble slightly. However, I do my best to push my fear away, because I want to get my questions answered before they put this dog to rest, and that’s what I intend to do.
“Hi, Daddy.”