Page 119 of DadBod

“You’re something else, Ry.” I’m still laughing.

“Fine.” She sighs. “If you’ve been here before…”

I have. “Let’s go. I’m starving. I could murder a salad.”

That gets a giggle out of Ryann, which is good because I don’t think I can take much more of the angsty girl.

* * *

With the caridling in the prison parking lot, I focus on my breathing. “I hate this place,” I whisper, but it’s loud enough for Ryann to hear.

“The parole thing was earlier today?”

On the ride from Chicago, I told Ryann the story about Sam. Like her father, she didn’t interrupt or even pass judgment on my brother. It was a relief I didn’t need to defend Sam to her.

I nod. “It was supposed to start at ten this morning.”

“It’s now after two. Will he know yet?”

Nodding again, I explain, “They decide on the same day, usually. Unless there’s extenuating circumstances.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

Shaking my head, I reach out and touch Ryann’s arm. “You sure you want to go inside?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll have to stay in the waiting room, but there’s always a guard there.”

Ryann’s eyes get huge. “A guard?”

“It’s safe.”

“I don’t get to meet Sam?”

“Hopefully, he’ll get parole and you can meet him soon.”

“Okay.”

Wow. She’s so agreeable. I’m not sure what do with that. “Good. Now, let’s go.” Get this over with is rolling through my head, but that’s not fair to my brother. I know my dad visits him once a month, and my brothers try to get here as much as they can. As for me, I haven’t been here for over a year. I rely on our letters, since driving here from Chicago wasn’t really possible with work and lack of transportation.

Sitting at a table in a room full of tables, I twirl my hands in my lap. There are several other people here, some talking to inmates and others waiting, just like me. When I hear locks disengaging, I look up at the door that Sam usually walks through, except it’s not Sam. It’s an older man who, when he sees his guest, makes a beeline for the table. The two of them hug, and the guards have to break them apart. We’re not supposed to hug or even touch the inmates. There are a whole set of rules you have to follow. When you first enter, you sign in, they ID you, pat you down, ask you to read the rules, and have you sign the form showing them you understand those rules. It takes forever.

As does this wait. I’ve been sitting in this spot for a long time. When I hear the locks again, I hold my breath, hoping it’s Sam. His smiling face is the first thing I see. A real smile. Not the fake ones he usually gives us to make us think everything’s okay. Funny. Sam’s got the same exact gap in his front teeth as me. We’re the only two who got it. On him, though, it’s cute. Weird.

Standing, the urge to hug him is so strong it hurts. Instead, I give him my own big smile. At my table, he doesn’t waste any time. “I got it.”

“Parole?”

He nods. “Yeah. Kirsten’s parents were there. They actually said it was time I was released.” My brother gets quiet. “They forgave me.”

“They did?” My eyes water immediately. “That’s wonderful, Sammy.”

“Yeah. It is.”

We spend the next twenty-eight minutes talking about what he’s going to do after he gets out. I mention the idea of him moving to Chicago––but I don’t tell him about Rome’s offer. I need to be sure he meant what he said before I get Sam’s hopes up. “The only way I can leave Michigan is if I have a job and family that can vouch for me nearby.”

“I’ll research the job thing, but you can stay with me. I can find a bigger place. We could be roomies.” The idea excites me more than you can know.

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