by Allie Faye
Yeah, we totally have cheesy nicknames for one another.
I’ve loved Ezra Joseph since my freshmen year of college. Technically, two years and counting. He graduated last semester and he’s working at his father’s corporate advertising firm. He’s the lowest man on the ladder and the boss’s son, therefore he’s working overtime to prove his worth not only to his father but to his peers. He doesn’t want them seeing his position as a handout from daddy, but it also means we are seeing less and less of each other. Take right now for instance, he’s in Miami working on a jingle for a fast-food chain that is growing in popularity in the South. Ezra is good at what he does, and I’m so proud of him, but at the same time, I hate it, because he’s moving up quicker in the company than he has let on. Even his group of friends is changing. He goes for drinks with the guys from work now instead of hanging out with Holden and the guys from his frat days. That guy, that version of Ezra, the funny guy I fell in love with seems to have disappeared and been replaced with Mr. Career. I know I shouldn’t be jealous of his job, but a big part of me is.
I’m scared that we are heading toward a break or worse, a breakup. We’ve been dating serious and steady for some time. I don’t expect a ring on my finger any time soon, but I feel like we are standing still in our relationship, while he moves on with his life, leaving thoughts of us like dust in the wind. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I’m not as career driven and goal oriented as Ezra is where my future is concerned as far as a solid career. I’m pursuing my teaching degree in special education, because I want to help people, but my heart isn’t in it anymore. I’ve been writing dark, erotic books. Ezra blows them off like they are a foolish hobby, and I guess in a sense they are, but I’ve been submitting excerpts to publishers under a pen name.
I’m scared though. Afraid of what Ezra and my family would think. Truth be told, I am scared to let anyone know the words on the paper belong to me. They aren’t happy words. Nothing like those who know me would expect me to be writing in my spare time. Ezra knows that I write, just not what I write about. I’ve been secretly tweeting and blogging online under a pen name as well. A few of my posts have a lot of hits, plenty of retweets.
I feel so torn. The rest of my drive though, I can’t help but get more ideas for new stories.
Two hours later, as I pull into the visitor parking of Hildegar prison, I begin to panic. I’m getting to see my dad for the first time in nearly thirteen years. My hand trembles as I take the keys from the ignition. I’m already on the verge of tears. Will he know me? Will I recognize him? Sure, he has seen the pictures I’ve sent of myself over the years, but this is different. This is face to face.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that even though it’s been years and he has done bad things, this man is still my father, an important piece of my life that I have been missing for way too long.
Before exiting my car, I retrieve the two forms of identification needed from my wallet. I’ve already been pre-screened for today’s visit, but I still have to produce ID.
Walking slowly, I make my way to the visitor’s entrance. I’m really going through with this. I’m really going to meet my dad for what feels like the first time in my life, because thirteen years is a long time, and we’ve both grown and changed. He’s no longer the hero who tucked me in at night, and I’m no longer his little caterpillar who believed he could save the world. No, those people are long gone.
Chapter 3
Conleigh
Inside, I sign in and hand over my driver’s license and student ID card. Next, I am patted down and searched. Before I can go to the visitation room, I’m given a briefing about today’s events and what contact is acceptable.
I wish I could’ve brought Ezra with me. His feelings about my father aren’t so great. He thinks he’s a low-down dirty criminal, and maybe he is, but he’s still my dad. He was a guy who made a really bad decision. He’s a man who has been serving his time and paying for that mistake every day of his life. A mistake that cost him watching me grow up. A bad choice that cost him the love of his life.
As I walk into the room, the laughter of children warms me and rapidly eases my nervous mood. If these kids can be all smiles and cheers, I can too, right?
I look around the room, feeling awkward and unsure of where to stand or sit. Kids of all ages, between three and twelve, are laughing, chatting, and playing. The room is somewhat large, filled with picnic style tables and seating. However, the bars on the windows that are high up on the walls of the room, are a startling reminder of where we all are and why. No amount of laughter can change the fact that this is indeed a prison.
Spotting an empty table in the corner, I take a seat and wait. It isn’t long before a woman taps a microphone and asks that everyone please quiet down and find a seat. Three guards circle the room, getting wandering kids to their seats. A young mother and her two boys sit across from me and I give them a brief smile. The boys appear to be twins, who I’ve placed to be aged around five. God, my heart hurts deeply for these boys. This isn’t the way life should be for them, but here they are, all smiles, eager to see their daddy.
“Thank you all for coming. A walk with God is a unique and special program. Our hope is that the children aren’t forgotten, for they are the silent victims. I ask that you all remain seated and quiet while introductions are made. Today will be emotional but rewarding.”
After a small applause, the woman begins calling names of the inmates, one by one. I have to fight tears of my own back as the kids run to their father’s embrace. The expressions on their innocent little faces will haunt me forever. They hold so much hope, love, and a twinge of sadness. Everyone claps every time a father hugs his child.
The event organizers said they didn’t want this to be a sad occasion, but a celebration. For me though, this shit is depressing as fuck. I am thankful to be a part of it, to witness what is taking place today, but I think of all the children who will never have this opportunity.
The men present today are criminals, but I know that good people do bad things—we all make mistakes. We all have good and bad in us.
I keep watching and listening, waiting for the moment where my past and present will collide.
I asked my mother to be present at the event with me when I was first informed that my dad had met the requirements and requested I attend, but she declined. I was hurt and angry with her at first, but now I appreciate that she turned me down. Today is about me and him. No one else should be here to take away from our brief time together.
When it’s my turn, I’m frozen on the spot. I can’t breathe, let alone move from my seat.
“Alan Meyers.” My father steps through the door wearing that lopsided grin, the one he last gave me the last time he hugged me. He scans the room, his once curly dark hair that hung in his eyes is cropped short.
I can feel my tears welling up, threatening to spill out. I have to fight them back.
The man who had once promised me the sun and the moon is scanning the room, searching for his little girl. However, I’m no longer small. I’m grown, an adult really. This caterpillar has shed her cocoon.
Finding my senses, I stand. His eyes lock on mine, but I can’t make my feet move. He crosses the room in four long strides.
“Conleigh,” he chokes my name out and holds his arms open.
Feeling much as I did as a child, I can no longer fight my tears as I throw myself into his welcoming arms. This is what peace feels like, getting to see him for the first time in so very long.
The room erupts with praise and joy. We are both crying but today is joyous. I forgave my father a long time ago. I made peace with the choices he made, the mistakes that brought us to today.
I step back as his weathered hands still grip my forearms. He looks me over as I do the same to him, noticing the years have been kind to him. He’s still so handsome and easy on the eyes. It’s easy to see why my mother fell under his spell during her youth.
“You’re all grow
n up. I…your pictures don’t do you justice. You look so much like your mother. Takes me back.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He looks at his feet for a moment as both our arms fall away. I imagine he’s remembering her or maybe thinking back on the little girl he left behind not being so tiny any more.
“I get that a lot, but there’s some traces of you in my smile and my eyes.” I smile at him, wiping away a stray tear.
“Let’s sit, tell me everything.”
We sit down and fall into easy conversation. I tell him about school, how my real passion lies with writing.
“Caterpillar, life is too short. Take it from me. If you aren’t happy now going into teaching, you never will be. Follow your heart and your dreams. Don’t be like me, kid.”
I have to take a deep breath, because his words hit me hard. Harder than I was expecting them to. I don’t want to think about making that choice just yet.
“Enough about me. Tell me something new with you.” My face falls. Immediately, I feel stupid. What could possibly be new with him? He is in prison, nothing probably ever changes here.
“I have news.”
“You do?”
“I’m in prison, not dead,” he jokes, shoving into my shoulder with his.
“I’ve met someone.”
“What? Here?” I scrunch my nose.
“Well, kind of. Online. They have a site where you can chat. Her name’s Beth. I think you’d really like her. She’s a hairdresser.”
I nod, unsure how I feel about this news. I suppose I’m happy for him. I should be happy he has someone to talk to.
“Does she…does she know?”
“That I’m in prison?”
“About me, does she know about me?”
His eyes soften. “Of course, you’re the one thing I did right in my life. You’re the best part of me, Conleigh. The only good part.”
“Dad.” I shake my head.
“You don’t know how good it feels to hear you call me that.”
“Yeah I do.” I totally understand because when he called me caterpillar, my stomach flip flopped, and I felt seven again.
The smaller kids and other dads are playing games, but I’m a bit too old for Simon Says.
We talk for a while longer before lunch is served.
He asks how my mom is doing and I tell him more about Ezra. He doesn’t seem too fond of the idea of us living together. Says that I need to slow down and enjoy being young, not be so serious. “Take your time. Don’t rush into marriage. None of it. Really get to know this guy. If he’s really the one, you’ll know.”
Cocking my brow, I ask, “Like you knew with mom?”
“Conleigh, you were the best thing, the best thing that ever happened to me, but if I could have waited another five years to have you or longer, I would have, because I wasn’t ready. Nowhere near it.”
I get that, I do.
“You think you want to marry this guy?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“You love him?”
His question catches me off guard. It isn’t a bad question, but hearing it, I wasn’t expecting to hesitate to answer. I love Ezra, so why am I unable to voice it to my dad? Maybe I do love him, but I’m not in love with him anymore. I shake my head, feeling guilty for even having the thought. Ezra has been with me for two years. We’re perfect for each other, aren’t we?
“Caterpillar, I may not know much, but I do know that if you have to think about it…it isn’t a good sign.”
My face screws up at that. “I love Ezra. You don’t know how great he is, because you don’t know him.”
“True, I don’t, but you’re my blood and deep down in your heart of hearts you know I’m right. That’s why you’re getting upset. We don’t like hearing things about ourselves we aren’t ready to admit.”
I swallow and look away, because deep down, I know he’s right. Ezra and I are headed in different directions. He’s fulfilling his father’s wishes and headed in his footsteps. Soon, he will want a wife and a family. I’ve never had intentions of becoming a young mother or marrying before twenty-five. I want to travel and experience the world. I don’t want a loveless marriage like my parents had.
However, saying and doing are two completely different things. I agreed to move in with Ezra not even a few days ago, because I was so scared to lose him. I was afraid we would break up if I said no. I was afraid of how my life would change if he were no longer mine.
I change the subject and ask him to tell me more about Beth and we talk about her until the end of the visit. When I leave, I promise him that I won’t stay away anymore.
Chapter 4
Conleigh
“Sweetheart, why did you ring the bell? You know you have your key.” My mom looks at me like I have three heads.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
She shakes her head and brings me in for a hug. She squeezes me hard, nearly crushing me in her embrace, but as overbearing as she is, I do love my mom.
“You need to eat more. You’re skin and bones. Are you eating? Is something wrong?”
“I’m fine. I eat. I’m here for dinner, aren’t I?”
Her brows draw together as she pulls away. “Well, you had that spell in junior high.”
I roll my eyes and walk around her into the foyer to take off my jacket and remove my shoes. My mom’s house is more like a museum. Everything is clean and white. This house is so…sterile. It’s cold and growing up here once she married Ronald, I was afraid to touch anything.
My stepfather is an oral surgeon. He likes everything bleach white just like teeth. It’s kind of creepy when you think about it.
After kicking my shoes into the closet floor and hanging my jacket, I head to the dining room. Ronald is already seated at the head of the table with his sister, Beatrice, sitting to his left and her husband, Leo, to his right. Ugh. If I had known they would be here I wouldn’t have bothered. I suppose they are nice enough, but they go on and on about their son, Troy, and how fabulous he is doing at Berkeley.
It wouldn’t bother me so much if Troy wasn’t a pig, but he’s so gross. We aren’t cousins by blood, but still, I was raised to believe he was, and when I was fifteen, he grabbed my boob and made a honking noise. I still cringe at the memory.
“Conleigh, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Beatrice crows. “Troy is at the top of his class, he’ll be following in Ronald’s footsteps before long and be joining the practice. Did you ever decide on a major?”
“Special Education, but I was talking to my dad and—”
Before I can finish, I’m cut off.
“Your dad. Isn’t he in prison?” Leo questions as though the idea of my talking to him is ludicrous.
“He is, I spent the day with him.”
“What?” Ronald looks between my mother and me.
“It’s a program for prisoners and their children. A walk with God,” I inform them.
Ronald tosses his napkin down as though I have somehow insulted him.
Beatrice’s face is pinched and Leo coughs as my mother glares at me.
“Why would you do a foolish thing like that? Ronald here is your father.” Beatrice basically jumps down my throat. “He raised you. Not that…” She waves an errant hand around. “That criminal.” Her lips pucker on the word as though my father is a vile creature.
My Nan, my paternal grandmother swore my father didn’t hurt Kerry, his girlfriend. The woman he is accused of killing. The problem with that is my dad was under the influence and doesn’t remember anything. Him and Kerry had been at a party where there were drugs and lots of alcohol and my dad apparently thought he was okay to drive when he most certainly wasn’t.
The accident report says that he hit a guardrail and the impact threw Kerry from the car. Her body landed on the freeway and my father drove off and left her. He woke up several hours later to the police beating down his apartment door to arrest him.
At first, my dad fought the charges but ev
entually he plead guilty.
I roll my eyes. “Ronald is not my father, he’s the man that married my mother. My father is in jail, sure, but he’s still my dad. And I will see him if I want to,” I snap.
“Candice, are you going to allow this behavior?” Beatrice questions, appearing appalled.
“Conleigh, sweetie, I need your help in the kitchen.” The tone of my mother’s voice indicates just how annoyed by my behavior she is.
“Excuse me,” I say, not attempting to hide my snarky attitude.
I hate coming here where everyone is so fucking wonderful, and I am expected to live up to their standards of perfection.
Joining my mother in the kitchen, I prepare for her to berate me.
“You just had to bring your father up, didn’t you? Why do you continually throw that man in Ronald’s face after everything he has done for you. He raised you when your father abandoned you. He paid for your car, your clothes, your school. He even gives you an allowance even though you are an adult.” She shakes her head. A bleach blonde tendril escapes her up do as she takes a shaky drink of wine.
“I never asked that man in there to do anything for me. You think he does them because he gives a shit about me? He only does them because I came as part of the package. You think I don’t know how he feels about me? How he wanted me to go away to private school, so he wouldn’t have to share you with me. I’m not stupid. Just because you turn a blind eye to the dick that you married doesn’t mean that I do.”
Thwack. That is the sound of my mother’s hand slapping across my cheek. The pain radiates through my jaw and up to my eye.
“You ungrateful little bitch. How dare you.”
I hold my cheek as her stare smothers me.
“That’s me.” I shove past her as she follows me.
“Conleigh, stop. I didn’t mean…”
“Thanks so much for this lovely family meal. But…I’m gonna pass, and you know, maybe forget about trying to contact me again. I’ll be sure to spend even more time with my real dad now, since you’re no longer my mother.”
I’ve made it to the closet now. Grabbing my jacket, I pull my keys, my wallet, and cell phone from the pockets. Taking the debit card Ronald gave me, along with the keys to my car, and the phone. I throw them down on a table in the entryway.
