Visitation Rights
By society78
- 206 reads
Her stomach lurched as he walked into the visiting room. It had been seven years but the feelings didn’t change. His large stature was still imposing, though he looked rougher than he had back then; not clean shaven anymore and with tired bags around his eyes. Perhaps prison had taken its toll.
As soon as he glanced in her direction she looked away; eye contact was going to be difficult after all this time. She found a little smudged patch on the panelled flooring and stared at it intently. The plastic chair opposite her squeaked across the floor as it was pulled back, and then a heavy, muscular load sat in it; but she still didn’t look up. That smudge was going to be her focal point in order to get through this without breaking down.
There was a long silence; probably only about thirty seconds in reality, but it felt longer to her. Plenty of chatter was emanating from the rest of the room of course, this was visiting time after all, but the silence between the two of them was all encapsulating.
“ Hello,” was all that she could think of to start off with.
There was no reply, though she could feel him staring at her. She couldn’t stop wringing her hands together as the silence was taking on a consuming force of its own, adding to her anxieties. So she had to break it.
“I was very sorry to hear about your daughter,” she mumbled.
“Yes,” was all he replied.
“Things like that…they‘re a real-”
“Could you speak up please?” he interrupted. “One of my ears was damaged a while ago and sometimes it’s a little difficult for me to hear things when there’s a lot of background noise.”
“Yes, of course,” she said more clearly.
To this day his voice continued to surprise her. It was much posher than she’d always expected. She had been shocked at the time to discover he was from such a well brought up background. You never can tell, she thought.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little bit nervous,” she continued, “it took me a lot of effort to come here today…I was just saying that things like that are a real tragedy when they happen to girls of that age. To think she was only sixteen and to be involved in such a terrible accident. I mean it was the other driver‘s fault, and she was just a passenger, a completely innocent victim. It must have been heartbreaking when you got the news.”
“…Why are you here?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you why I’m here in my own good time, if you don’t mind,” she snapped back. “I’ve earned that right. I can visit you whenever I choose if that’s what I feel I have to do…That’s my right.”
“Yes.”
“I think I can probably relate a bit to you now. I remember when I was going through my bad time. It was seven years ago but I remember it like it was today. I kept on thinking: Why her? Why me? We’ve never done anything wrong, we’re good people, why should something like this happen to us. And even though it’s nothing like what happened to your daughter, the feelings are similar, aren’t they?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“And then you begin to think all crazy thoughts, don’t you? Like, why did I let her go out that late? Why wasn’t I a better parent, somehow? I even thought to myself, why did I even bother moving from Ireland to England when she was born? At the time I thought we’d both be safer away from the Troubles, now of course I wish I’d just taken my chances. You never know when bad things are going to happen, do you?”
No reply.
“My daughter’s twenty-one now, by the way,” she continued. “We had a little get together for her last week. It was so nice to be able to visit her this year…that meant a lot to me, you know. I bought her one of those helium balloons with her age written on it…I hope she liked it. I didn’t buy her anything too valuable because things can sometimes get stolen round her area, but it’s the thought that counts isn’t it?”
Still no reply. She concentrated for a minute on her hands that were still frantically rubbing together. There was a little bit of varnish left on one of her nails which she quickly scraped off. One of the first things that she’d done after getting up this morning was to paint her nails. Then she’d wondered what the hell she’d been thinking, she was only going to prison after all, so she’d got some remover and taken it all off again. But she knew why she’d done it really, anything to fill the hours before coming here rather than dwell too much on things. She had to fill the silence again.
“What’s it like in here?” was the first random question that came to mind. “What was it that happened to your ear?”
“I was in a fight,” he answered. “It happens sometimes.”
“Yes, I suppose it would…Is it very rough in here? Do you get hurt much?”
“Sometimes…Is that why you’ve come here? To see if I’m struggling?”
“No, I’m not like that, I promise you. I can’t be like that, I think that makes me a worse person if I let feelings like that get inside me too much. It’s too easy when something terrible has happened to you to just spend the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself. I just do my best to keep going with day to day activities, as hard as that can be at times. I imagine you have similar feelings now, in a way.”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes, you know, people who think they know me better than they actually do start trying to ask me all sorts of personal questions because they like to think that they’re being all deep and meaningful. They start asking me about forgiveness, and that strange American term, ‘closure’. Why the hell would I want closure, I think to myself. Why would I want to close off that period of my life? It’s like they think I can just do something one day and then I’ll be all better again. Some people just have no understanding. They think that words can sum everything up and make stuff better just by saying them. But it’s not like that. No words can express my emotions, and they’ll never be able to. So they can stuff their closure…”
“And forgiveness?”
“No, that’s not why I’m here…I like to think that it’s not completely beyond me. Maybe one day if I’m on death’s door and I’m just trying to make my final peace with this world, maybe then, if you’re still here of course. But not today. Why should I do that today? Seven years of hell and then one moment of relief that was forced upon you by whatever powers that be which exist in this universe. That doesn’t suddenly make you deserving. No, not today.”
Another silence made her look around the room at all the other people in there. With the exception of the guards lingering around, half of them were criminals, probably dangerous ones, and the other half were visitors. Nobody looked particularly happy to be here.
“Are there a lot of you in here?” she nervously enquired. “Like you, I mean.”
“Not too many,” he answered. “We have to be sectioned off, for our own protection.”
“Yes, I imagine you do…But then every now and again even the guards seem to go blind and something bad happens, eh? Sometimes they choose to become powerless and people get a moment’s chance to rough you up a bit.”
“Yes, indeed.”
She wasn’t trying to take any pleasure in this experience, but part of her couldn’t help it; prison wasn’t meant to be a walk in the park. Nevertheless, she felt a sense of overwhelming relief when the bell rang to tell everyone it was time to wrap up their conversations.
“Time’s up,” she said almost cheerily. “When I arranged to come here, you know, I asked them not to make it at the very beginning of the session because I knew I’d just waffle on for an hour and not be able to get to the point till the end. I said to them just give me five minutes, that’s all I need. They were very understanding about things…And now it’s time for me to go.”
“So…What is it you need to say, exactly?”
“I’ve come to say thank you…Don’t get me wrong, I would never have wished anything bad to happen to your daughter, honestly I wouldn’t. An innocent life is an innocent life, simple as that. It’s just unfortunate that when her accident rattled your conscience, it turned out to be good for me. I want you to know that I am grateful for what you did, even if it did take far too long to get there. It’s been so relieving these past few weeks…Again, words can’t really express my emotions on the subject; relieved isn’t nearly a good enough word for how I feel after seven years of torment finally being laid to rest, so to speak. But I am relieved, and I am grateful, so thank you for that. That’s it really, I just wanted to let you know that even someone like you can be appreciated if only you do the right things in this world. And hopefully after today’s over I’ll feel just a little bit better inside myself for having had the courage to come here and see you face to face, after all this time. Anyway, I’ll be going now…I’m going to visit my daughter and tell her about how this little meeting went. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
She got up from her chair and faced the exit, but she still knew that she hadn’t really done what she’d come here to do; she still hadn’t been able to look him in the eye and say what needed to be said. If she could rise above the malice, the bitterness and the sheer rage by showing gratitude in the face of so much horror, then she believed that would make her a better, less broken person. And she could always dash off in a moment to have a little cry, anyway.
Her head turned to face his. She looked directly into his eyes. Those eyes that she’d had to stare at for weeks during the trial; those eyes that had haunted her nightmares as she was only able to wonder about what terrible things he had done. But she rose above the fear and clearly stated the words that she had been rehearsing in her head for days.
“Thank you for telling the police where you buried my daughter.”
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