Page 78 of Heart Strain

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“What’s wrong with you?”Holden asks as I wipe my hands on my jeans for the hundredth time.

“I’m nervous. I’ve never brought anyone here to see my dad before except Hendrix, and I’ve never introduced him to a boyfriend at all, and I guess I’m freaking out a little.”

The door leading from the belly of the prison opens and cuts off anything Holds is about to say. I wait anxiously to see my dad step into the sparsely furnished visiting room. Getting Holds put on the visitor’s list had been quick and easy since my dad has been a model inmate. I glance at the few other tables with people who are all eager to see a loved one, too. I even recognize one of them from former visits. My attention is jerked back to the few men coming through the door with officers when Holds says quietly, “Holy shit, you’re a carbon copy of your dad.”

I get up quickly to hug my father as he approaches the table, knowing we’re only allowed a fast hug when he comes in and one when he exits. His arms around me reassures me he’s okay, and the pain of him being imprisoned dissipates for now. Holds has already been told he’s not allowed to shake Dad’s hand or touch him, except for a quick squeeze, and since he doesn’t know him, he waits in his chair.

As Dad sits, I introduce them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fox,” Holds says.

Dad shakes his head. “None of that now. If you’re living with my son, I insist you at least call me Delaney.” As Dad and Holds talk and get to know each other, I interject comments here and there, but mostly I stare at my dad. It’s easy to see why Holds called me a carbon copy of my father. The similarities in our height is nothing compared to the same colored green eyes, I also see in the mirror, shimmering with joy at the opportunity to officially meet my boyfriend. Prison has been hard on my father in many ways, the gray streaks that appeared after he’d only been here months a tell of stress he won’t speak of. On the other hand, six years of working out from boredom have bulked up his already fit form and given him a chiseled build that rivals mine.

“Jameson.”

I stop my introspection, tuning in to the seriousness in his tone.

“What’s going on with your brother? He’s never been here before and last Saturday he suddenly showed up.”

“What? How’d he get on the list? Why didn’t you call me?” I ask.

“He’s on the list because he’s my son. I requested him to be added the day I filled out my form, same as you. I admit I didn’t ever expect to see him, but he came. And I didn’t call you because I wanted to talk about it in person. The question I have for you is why did he come?”

Holds and I exchange glances; of course, I’d told him about the odd show of support from my brother at the precinct that day. “I honestly don’t know what’s going on with Jovany. He’s… different. I catch him watching me, but not maliciously or anything. He didn’t tell you why he was here?”

“No, and he didn’t stay that long. He asked how they were treating me and said it was good to see me, then he was gone. Can you keep an eye on him, son? Please. I’m worried about him.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Visiting hours come to a close and not only does Dad hug me goodbye, but Holds as well. Our eyes glisten with unshed tears as he’s once again led back into his hell.

“I like your dad, Foxy,” Holds says as we walk back to the car.

“He liked you, too. I could tell. Thanks for coming to meet him. It means a lot to me.”

“It’s obvious what a good man he is. He loves you very much.” I nod in agreement. Once we’re in the car, Holds asks, “What do you think is going on with Jovany?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not sure if I should reach out to him; I honestly don’t know how to handle this.”

Holds leans across the seat and brushes a kiss across my lips before sitting back to fasten his seatbelt. “We do it just like we’re handling Drix’s situation, one day at a time and together, Foxy. We can handle anything together.”

Warmth swarms inside me, filling me up to overflowing. With a smile on my face, and Holden’s hand in mine, I drive home anticipating our future.

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