Visiting Dad

 

Lovelock Prison’s claim to fame was O.J. Simpson. It was where they sent him after god-knows-what bullshit he’d allegedly perpetrated after getting off on charges that he’d killed his wife.

It was appointment only, and if you didn’t have one, you didn’t see your perp. I had a fairly open mind about police records. I had guarded thugs and politicians and didn’t see much of a difference between them. Visiting Lovelock or anywhere else didn’t cause me a bit of anxiety.

It was a different story for Marilyn. She had a healthy fear of the snake pit we were entering. Even the standard-issue disclosure warned that you could be taken as a hostage at any time.

She dressed modestly as well. She wore long khaki pants and a simple blouse with a sweater over it. Even in the sweltering Nevada heat, she was trying to cover up. Impossible, though; when she hid her assets they were somehow more tantalizing. But the dress code required modest and she complied.

I was glad I could be there with her. Even if they didn’t let me go in behind the glass, at least, I was in the next room. I cringed to think about what went through the mind of an inmate when they saw her. Well, think all they wanted. I’d kill anyone who looked at her sideways.

As we checked in, she said his name. “Walter Detweiler.” I hadn’t known her last name. Funny how security was my job and I’d never once checked her story, did a background, or verified she was Leslie. I trusted her. Now I had proof that she was honest with me, Walter Detweiler was her father, and he was in prison for killing her uncle.

“He’s not here, ma’am,” said the nasty-looking guard behind the bullet proof glass.

“Can you check again? I have an appointment? I called and followed the instructions.”

“I am telling you there is no Walter Detweiler here for a visiting hour. You will have to arrange a different day.”

“But sir, I came all this way.”

“I don’t give two shits about your inconvenience. The rules are the rules. They are to ensure the safety of the inmates, the visitors, and the guards.”

“I see.” Her voice was small and hopeless and this dick of a guard smirked. He liked making her squirm.

I stepped in. “Her father has been ill. Why don’t you make a call to the infirmary to be sure?” I said it in my menacing, but very calm, tone.

“That’s right. That could be it. I hope it isn’t, but can you check?” She was begging him for a little kindness.

“Fine.” The gnarly little guard on a power trip walked over to a desk and it took him all of two seconds to get the answer.

“Well, it turns out you’re right. Walter Detweiler was admitted to the infirmary last night.”

“What for?” Marilyn asked.

“I am not the attending nurse.” I had had it with this little asshole. I put Marilyn’s hand in mine and decided we were done with this guy treating her like she’d committed the crime. It was probably the only time he got to talk to a woman, and he was taking it out on her.

“Which way to the infirmary?”

“You’ll have to go back to the main gate and they’ll instruct you. Have a nice day.”

“Fuck you.” I said and pulled Marilyn along behind me.

After an hour more of check-ins and instructions we were finally let through to the hospital prison.

Walter Detweiler, despite his very brutal crime, the murder of his brother with a hammer, I’d learned, had been a model prisoner, and we were both allowed into the ward. Marilyn sat in a chair next to the bed. I stood, arms folded, at the end. I was sending out every signal in my arsenal to anyone who looked. Do not mess with me or this woman.

He was asleep, restlessly so, when Marilyn sat down on the side of the bed and gently took his hand.

Marilyn was all of twenty-two, her father looked 82. She’d said it was just the two of them and he was in his late forties when she was born. But still, the man looked like her great-grandfather. The cancer may be too far for any amount of money that she earned to make a damn bit of difference. I thought it but didn’t say it.

Walter Detweiler coughed and it woke him. It was a cough that shook the bed, shook his frail body, and shook loose a few quiet tears in his daughter.

She quickly wiped them away as he opened his eyes to focus on her. “Leslie is that you?”

“Yeah daddy, I’m here like I said.”

“Your hair is even blonder, girl.”

“Yeah, I guess, it’s a phase.”

“I am sorry you have to see me like this today. I had a bad night. I’ll be okay in a day or so.”

“Don’t apologize, Daddy. I’m just going to need you to hold on a few more weeks okay?”

“Why’s that? You and this G.I. Joe gonna rob a bank?” My presence was hard to ignore, even though I’d not said a word.

“Daddy, this is Lincoln McCall. He’s my best friend. And no, we’re not robbing a bank.”

“What kind of name is Lincoln McCall?”

“My mom didn’t make to the hospital with me and named me after the first thing she saw.” I hoped to make him smile with that one.

“Indian tradition, eh? Thank god it wasn’t a Volkswagon.” Walter Detweiler closed his eyes again with the effort of meeting a new person.

“Daddy, I got a new lawyer working on your case. I earned the money on my new job, and then after that, in the next few weeks, a new doctor.”

“New job? You got no education and your hair is this color. What are you doing girl? you better not be doing anything stupid on my account.”

“I’m a lookalike daddy, a Marilyn Monroe lookalike. You’d be surprised how well it pays. Casino openings, parties, I just stand there and act like Marilyn. No trouble at all. It’s just going to take me a few weeks to get it all together.”

“Then you gonna let that hair go back?”

“I promise.” She reached a hand up and brushed a cotton candy lock behind her ear.

“Alright, alright.” He looked up at her with worry. Did he understand what she was really doing? I hoped not. It might be enough to give him a heart attack on top of the cancer.

“You.” Walter sat up in bed. Every bit of effort channeled into sitting up and looking me in the eye. He had the same piercing blue eye color as his daughter.

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t know what your intentions are. I’ve mostly found male attentions toward my girl are ones that need to be stopped. People are cruel, and she is a sweet angel.”

“Daddy, please.” Marilyn looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“No. I’m going to say my piece. You look strong like you could handle just about anything. No wonder your mama didn’t make it to the hospital. It is your duty as a man to make sure no harm comes to her. She is a rose and needs men like me and you to make sure she’s not trampled. I am trusting you ‘cause I got no choice. I don’t like it, but I need you to promise.”

“I understand and agree sir. No harm will come to her when I’m near her.”

“Make sure you stay near her then.” Marilyn laid her head down on the pillow next to her dad, unwilling to fight with him about her vulnerabilities. She was a hell of a lot tougher than he knew and was enduring more than he’d want to rescue him.

“I will.”

He started to cough again and I noticed blood escaping in the last few spasms that wracked his body.

Leslie, because she was Leslie, wiped his mouth and poured him water. I backed away; he would not want me to see him in such need. I could sense he thought as I did about being sick. I let her care for her father and be with him without my intrusion. I understood Walter Detweiler. He had done all he could to protect her and knew she still needed it. He was trying to bind me to some code.

Little did he know protecting her was now in my DNA. I’d already taking the vow without his prompting. I respected his attempt to do what he could.

 I walked over to the nurse’s station.

“What’s the prognosis?” I asked the nurse on duty.

“Three months, maybe four, unless he gets out of here. Then, who knows,” she explained.

“Thanks.” I wondered if Leslie had already run out of time to save her dad.

I hovered outside Walter and Leslie’s private time. The guards at the entrances were keeping an eye on me as I killed time.

I didn’t want to intrude on the little time they had any more than I had already.

Before long, the visiting time was up. It looked like Walter had gotten some relief or, at least, had gotten the spasms under control. The pain appeared to have shifted to his daughter. They hugged and he closed his eyes to rest as she turned and walked away. Her brow was knitted in worry, her jaw clenched. Every bit of her body language telegraphed the stress she felt over her father. It seemed to physically hurt her to leave him.

We walked out of the stifling environment of the prison hospital and back into the parking lot, which felt worse. The blacktop was more like a stove top in the desert sun.

We didn’t speak as I waited a moment for the air to cool the truck.

Finally, she relaxed a little and turned to me in the seat.

“I’m sorry about my dad and all the rose crapola.” She gazed out the window as I pulled out of Lovelock, the high wire fencing fading in the rear view.

 “He’s your dad and he has every right to feel that.”

“It’s silly. I’m not a flower, for god’s sake. It’s embarrassing.”

“I know you’re a lot tougher than he needs to know.” Her dad would rather die than find out what she was doing to save him. That was clear.

“Thanks.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why did he get the maximum? He has no priors, and from what you’d told me of the circumstances, he was acting reasonably. I’d do the same if it was my daughter. If it was you.”

“Daddy wouldn’t tell the cops anything. My uncle had this delusion that he was in love with me, and so he more or less kidnapped me to Vegas. This was after spending one summer with us on our little farm. I didn’t take his creepiness quite seriously enough. A lot of guys are creeps. Usually, they’re harmless. Uncle was not. The worst were the ties and blindfolds. I hate that. I still can’t… uh. Nevermind.” A picture of the horrible scene popped into my head. Marilyn swallowed and then shook off the memory of it. She continued on without emotion.

“Anyway, when Daddy caught up with us, he hit Uncle Harry with a hammer. A lot. When the cops asked him, he wouldn’t say why. He didn’t want anyone to know what happened to me. He told me he didn’t want me to have to talk about it in court either, so I kept my mouth shut and did what he told me to. He still won’t let me talk about it but I may have to with this new lawyer.”

“You know this is not your fault, either.”

“If I can get him out, when I can get him out, I will.”

“He wouldn’t want you to do what you’re doing.”

“I know. That’s why you and I aren’t going to tell him. He’s never going to know.”

“Fine. Promise I won’t tell him. But I also promised him to keep you safe.”

“You will, you have.”

Marilyn unbuckled her seatbelt.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to make an adjustment.” She pulled out the belt as far as it would go and slid next to me and then belted back in.

“See? I’m still belted in, Safety Officer.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the correct use.”

“You complaining?” She sat up and batted those eyes at me.

“No. I guess I’m not.” Marilyn nuzzled into my side and I had one hand on the wheel and the other around her shoulder. We drove toward the danger she insisted on putting herself in, but if she was going there, so was I.