Waves and Light: Opposites Attract Series

by Elizabeth J. Merrill

  I grabbed the map. “Thanks.”

  “The speed limit on base is 15 miles per hour. You will be ticketed if you exceed that speed.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Mom nodded her head. The gate went up.

  “Go slow,” I admonished. Mom edge out into the base watching the speedometer not the road. “Stop!” I yelled as Mom nearly hit a Naval officer. Mom slammed on the brakes. I waved nervously. The officer gave us a dirty look. Mom looked overwhelmed.

  “Veronica look at the speedometer over Mom’s shoulder and tell her when she gets to 5, 10, then 15 miles per hour.”

  “Got it,” Veronica answered grimly as she sat up in the back seat and looked over the seat. Mom started going again watching the road this time.

  “Five,” said Veronica as we picked up speed.

  “Ten,” she said.

  “Slow down and turn here,” I said while pointing at Admiral Weston Rd.

  Mom turned.

  “Five,” Mom kept going.

  “Ten,” Mom watched the road like a hawk.

  “Fifteen,” Veronica almost whispered.

  “Good, just keep it here,” I encouraged.

  Mom eased down the road. “Turn here into lot K.” We turned in and saw a long row of cars in a row marked visitors, but no empty spots.

  “What do we do now?” Mom’s voice was on the edge of hysterics.

  “Wait, just wait. This woman looks like she’s leaving.” A woman dressed in an expensive gray suit with an ID card on a lanyard around her neck and carrying a briefcase opened the door to a Lexus halfway down the row. Mom sped toward it and slammed on her brakes. I gave her an annoyed look, but she just watched the Lexus. After what felt like forever, the Lexus pulled out and Mom darted in. We gave a collective sigh of relief. Then Mom reached into her purse, pulled out a lipstick, and started reapplying. Veronica fussed with her phone, and I pulled out the zip lock I had already prepared with my driver’s license, the letter from the Warden giving all three of us permission to visit Dad at once, Dad’s number, and a roll of quarters.

  “Ready?” I asked as I walked around to the trunk to stash my purse.

  “We’re ready,” answered Mom and Veronica as they started walking toward the intake building.

  “Hey wait. You can’t take your purse,” I yelled.

  “What?” They asked in unison.

  “You can’t take your purse. Didn’t you read the visitor’s guide I sent you?”

  “No,” they replied in unison. I rolled my eyes.

  “You can’t take your purse. You can take ID, car keys, change, and “life preserving” medication. That’s it.”

  “Where do I put my cell phone? These pants don’t have pockets,” asked Veronica in a sassy tone.

  “In your purse, in the car.”

  “I can’t take in my cell phone?” she asked incredulously.

  “Nope, leave it in the car. And we have to dress appropriately, but I think we’re appropriate enough. Mom’s skirt is long enough, and we have closed-toed shoes, so we should do okay.”

  “Are they serious?” ranted Veronica.

  “Yes.”

  “Who do they think they are?” yelled Veronica.

  “The federal government who is overseeing our father’s incarceration.” I could see the dawning of understanding on Mom’s and Veronica’s face. Veronica started turning red, and Mom got teary eyed.

  “Just put the keys and your IDs in here,” I shook the zip lock at them.

  “What’s the money for?” asked Mom.

  “Vending machine. Dad won’t be able to eat dinner if he stays with us. This way he can buy something to eat.”

  “Really, it’s see us or eat dinner. He can’t do both?” asked Veronica.

  “Really, they’re serious about visitation security. The only reason we get to talk to him in a room and not through glass is because we’re related. I had to send him copies of our birth certificates and your marriage license.”

  “Oh, that’s what that was about. Okay, we’re here. Let’s go,” stated Mom in her “resolve voice.” She popped the trunk; we stashed our purses; they put their IDs in my baggie, and we headed into the building.

  *

  The actual prison camp didn’t have concertina wire or even a fence. It could have been just another dated-looking building on base that housed slightly older servicemen. Inside the building they checked our IDs, ran us through the metal detector, and patted us down. They tried to tell us that we couldn’t all see him at once, but I pulled out my letter from the warden giving us permission. They escorted us to a large room with ordinary tables, plastic chairs, and a few vinyl couches. Another woman dressed in a suit waited at one of the tables. At the far end of the room, a guard stood by the door. We sat on one of the vinyl couches and waited. The clock over the door read 3:16.

  At 3:25 Veronica asked, “What’s taking so long?” Right then, the door opened and a man in a green jumpsuit—not my father—walked out. He walked over to the woman who got out of her chair and hugged him. He gave her a peck on the cheek then they both sat down in chairs facing away from the guard, but still holding hands.

  A woman and a girl came into the room and sat on a sofa facing away from the door. I stared at my hands and sighed.

  “Do you think they lost the paperwork or something?” asked Veronica.

  “No, it’s just taking them time to track him down.”

  At 3:31 another man came out of the door. Also not my father. He walked over to the woman and girl first giving the girl a hug and then a hug and a peck to the woman. They started talking in quiet tones.

  “Hey, we were here first,” complained Veronica.

  “He’ll get here when he gets here,” Mom tried to calm her down.

  We all watched the door.

  Another woman entered the room.

  At 3:41 I looked over at Veronica and saw tears starting to build. Mom looked dejected.

  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” I offered.

  At 3:42 the door opened and Daddy walked out.

  Veronica shrieked and ran to him jumping into his arms.

  “Ooof,” the air rushed out of Daddy’s lungs.

  “Miss if you can’t control yourself, you’ll have to leave,” admonished the guard.

  Dad hugged Veronica and told her, “You’ll have to tone it down a bit slugger, but I do believe you’ve grown.”

  “Don’t be silly Daddy. Girls stop growing around thirteen or fourteen.” Veronica blushed. They walked over to us arm-in-arm, but Daddy disengaged with Veronica and hugged me. “How’s it going, Pumpkin?”

  “Great, Daddy, great! It’s so good to see you.” Now I was tearing up. Daddy looked older—a lot more than two years older—and grayer—and a whole lot thinner but stronger. Ropy muscles defined his arms. He practically looked like some kind of fitness guru.

  He turned to Mom, “Hello, Dot.”

  “Richard,” she nodded then Dad wrapped her in a hug and kissed her—not some peck on the cheek either—a full-blown, romantic, curl-your-toes, French kiss.

  “Hey, hey. No PDA, Chase. That’s your second warning. Another violation and I’ll have to ask your visitors to leave,” warned the guard.

  “Yes, sir,” nodded Dad. “We’ll be good.” He waved us towards one of the couches facing away from the door. We all managed to cram onto the sofa with Dad between Mom and Veronica and me beside Mom.

  We sat there in silence for a few minutes just glad to be near each other. Dad turned to Mom. “I’m so grateful you managed to figure out a way to visit, but how are you getting by?”

  “I sold some things. It’s made life much easier on us,” answered Mom.

  “Good, good. What did you sell?” asked Dad.

  “Jewelry. I hope you don’t mind Richard, but I sold a few things that you gave me the last few years. They really weren’t my style. Candi—you remember from Neimans—helped me find a buyer, and the pieces really were quite valuable.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t mind. I’m glad they made life a little easier for you.”

  “And,” piped up Veronica, “B.D. is dating Candi’s son, David.”

  “Really?” Dad looked at me with interest.

  “I wrote you about him. He’s another Fineman scholar. He’s also the student director of the tutoring center. He’s applying for graduate school at MIT.”

  “Is that so? In mathematics?” Dad raised one eyebrow.

  “No physics. Fineman scholars are all physicists,” Dad knew that.

  “I see. And are you going to follow him to Boston?”

  “Don’t be silly Daddy. First, [I raised one finger.] he just applied. He hasn’t been accepted yet. Second, [I raised two.] I have the Fineman scholarship at UT that I’m not giving up, and third [I raised a third finger.] I’m working with Dr. Hrezecovic.”

  “Right. I managed to get one of her papers. She’s doing some pretty cool stuff with light waves.”

  “She is, she is. And she’s asked me to go with her to a conference in Salamanca in March during Spring Break. I won’t even miss any class.”

  “That’s great, Pumpkin. Why did she ask you to go?”

  “I thought of a minor improvement to her process. It’s nothing really, but she wanted me to present with her. I worked on a paper about it during the break. She wants to start sending it out next month.”

  “That’s wonderful. Not even in graduate school and you’re already presenting. You’ll be publishing soon. Impressive. I didn’t publish my first paper until my second year of graduate school.”

  “Things were different then. Publishing as an undergraduate isn’t that big a deal anymore.”

  “It is. And I’m proud of you.”

  Veronica broke in. “I have a job now, Daddy.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, at Bath and Body Works. It’s a great place to work. They have all these great products, and I get a discount. And it’s not that far from the house. B.D. left her car in Houston, so I just take it to work.”

  “You left your car in Houston?” Dad asked.

  I shrugged. “Since I’m working on campus now, I don’t need it and the parking sticker is expensive. I just catch a ride with David when I want to go home. He lives in Idlywood just like we do.”

  “Right, Candi’s son. So you see a lot of him? Does he take good care of you?”

  “I take care of myself,” I answered emphatically. “But we are in the same major and technically he’s my boss at the tutoring center, so I see a lot of him.”

  “He does take care of us,” broke in Mom. “Over the break he changed the air filters, cleaned the gutters, and helped me fix some molding that got knocked off. He’s a great help, and he takes such good care of B.D. He took her to lunch almost every day during the break.”

  “Big spender, huh? Has Candi reconciled with her husband?”

  “No,” I answered a little miffed that Dad went straight to the money. “Candi and David still don’t get any money from David’s Dad, but David does some programming on the side for Hurricane games. They pay him ridiculously well for what he does because he can map the trajectories of flying objects then program that trajectory into the game. He actually worked on another project for them over the break. He planned to send it off this weekend.”

  “Ahh, so Dot, how’s this year’s crop of kindergartners?”

  “Good, good. They’re reading well already.”

  “Addition and subtraction too?” asked Dad.

  “Up to twenty.” Mom answered. Dad rolled his eyes. “They’re only five Richard. That’s good,” Mom added.

  Veronica broke in, “I’m taking the SAT soon Daddy, so I can apply for college. I probably won’t be a valedictorian like B.D., but my grades are good.”

  “Good for you Veronica. Where are you thinking about applying?”

  Veronica started counting off on her fingers. “Of course, I’ll apply to A&M. I don’t want to go to the same school as B.D. And Jennifer wants to go to TCU, so I’ll probably apply there. And St. John’s has this cool “Great Books” program I want to check out. The tennis coach at University of Denver keeps sending me stuff too.”

  “Those schools all sound like good options for you. What do you think you want to study?”

  “I’m not sure—maybe fashion design?”

  Dad gave Veronica an odd look.

  “Uh…fashion design like designing clothes?” he asked in a confused voice.

  “Yeah, I’m really good at it, see.” Veronica twirled around so Dad would notice her outfit. “Of course, this outfit is pretty ordinary for the plane, but I have some cuter things that I’d like to show you, but they have pretty strict rules about what you can wear.”

  Dad glanced down at his green jumpsuit, “They certainly do. You can major in fashion design?”

  “Sure,” Veronica said while nodding furiously.

  “If you like design wouldn’t you prefer to study something more…substantial like architecture or even web design?” asked Dad hopefully while Mom glared at Veronica.

  “Uhhh…I never thought about it that way. I’ll think about it,” offered Veronica in an effort to make Dad happy, and it did; he smiled a huge smile and patted her on the knee.

  “B.D. I see you’re in possession of a huge roll of quarters. Is there anyway I could talk you into buying me a coke?”

  “Sure Dad. I guess we could all use something to drink.” I grabbed the quarters and waved at Veronica to come help. “Anything you’d like Mom.”

  “A diet coke for me, and I know it’s not good for me. Just indulge me.”

  “Sure, Mom, sure.”

  Veronica and I approached the vending alcove where a soda machine was dispensing 12 oz. sodas. We got Dad’s coke first and Mom’s diet coke. I opted for Dr. Pepper and Veronica got a root beer. We brought our booty back to Dad and Mom.

  Dad took the coca-cola can, looked it over appreciatively, hefted it, and finally popped the top while the rest of us were guzzling away. Dad took a long, slow drink from the can and sighed when finished. “It’s strange the things you miss,” he mused.

  Veronica and I both gave him quizzical looks. “Coke…this is the first coke or soft drink of any kind I’ve had in almost two years. You can’t get them inside,” he nodded toward the prison door. “Not even in the commissary even if I could afford it. I wouldn’t have thought I’d miss coke so much. Before I would only have two or three a week with a burger or pizza or something, but now that I don’t get them ever I have actual coke dreams. Maybe this will help those dreams go away.” He took another long pull.

  “I didn’t know about the coke. What else do you miss?” I asked.

  “You. I miss all of you the most. That’s why I appreciate the phone calls and letters and this visit. I thought I was strong, but it’s been really hard not seeing you,” Actual tears started building in Dad’s eyes. The only time I’d ever seen my Dad cry was when his parents died.

  “But you never told us you wanted to see us,” Mom almost whispered.

  “I know. I didn’t want to worry you, and I knew you couldn’t afford it,” Dad explained.

  “You’ve done a bit too much of that all around. Worrying I mean, for us. You need to let us worry a little. You need to let us help,” Mom urged.

  “I know Dot. I know. I’ve figured out a few things in here.” Dad squeezed Mom’s knee.

  I waved Veronica over, and we sat apart from our parents who spoke in urgent, but subdued tones.

  “Do you think they’ll get divorced now?” asked Veronica.

  “No, I’m sure they won’t,” I reassured her while patting her back. “They’re going to be closer than ever now.”

  Mom and Dad chatted then we hit the vending machine together, buying Dad a tuna fish cracker kit, some chips, some fruit gummies, and another coke.

  Veronica talked about a boy she liked; Mom went on about this kid Ryan in her class; and I explained a bit more about my work in the lab. We spent my
last few quarters on cookies, nuts, and another coke and the guard announced that we had fifteen minutes before we had to leave. I couldn’t help it. I got a little teary when I thought about leaving him again.

  “The warden arranged for a chess board tomorrow, so we can play a game in person. He’s fascinated by our long distance game, because he doesn’t really understand about chess. So tomorrow Pumpkin. I hope you’re up for it.”

  “Always, Dad, always,” I told him as I hugged him. He kissed the top of my head as he had when I was younger. He said goodbye to Mom and Veronica then waved to us as he disappeared into the prison door past the guard.

  Suddenly I was exhausted as were Mom and Veronica. “Are you okay to drive?” I asked Mom.

  “I better be. We don’t have a choice,” Mom replied trying to sound determined.

  We piled into the car and headed toward the hotel, but Mom stopped at a Chili’s on the highway. When our food first came, everyone looked at it guiltily knowing that Dad subsisted on bland and inadequate garbage. Finally I said, “Look not eating the food that we’ll soon pay for isn’t helping Dad. We should all eat and appreciate that we have access to decent or semi-decent food. And never take good food for granted again. Okay!” then dug into my plate with relish. Mom and Veronica followed suit. And the food and coffee seemed to revive Mom who drove us the rest of the way to the hotel without a problem.

  It was almost 10: 00 by the time we got into our room with our stuff. I pulled out my night gown immediately and headed for the bathroom. I got ready for bed as quickly as possible then slid under the covers at the far side of the room. I set an alarm on my phone for 6 am. “I think we need to leave by 7 am. They won’t let us in until 8, but that will give us time to get checked in.” I heard mumbles of agreement as I rolled away from everyone and fell asleep almost immediately.

  *

  I tried to be as quiet as possible as I pulled clothes from my suitcase using the early morning light seeping through the crack in the black out curtains. I took a quick shower, snagged a room key, and went to the lobby for breakfast. That early, only a tired looking man wearing some rough looking work clothes was in the dining room shoveling a giant pile of eggs into his mouth. I went straight for the waffle iron. The waffles were round not Florida-shaped like I thought they might be, since we have Texas-shaped waffles in Texas. Whatever shape though, they were good with butter, syrup, and some fresh strawberries. I also had a mound of crisp bacon and some cranberry juice. Mom came in when I was on my last few bites and selected a container of yogurt, an apple, and a muffin. She also snagged some coffee.