Page 122 of DadBod

“Let’s go.” I push open my door angrily and stomp to the front door. Taking in a deep breath, I’m about to knock, when the door flies open and Kevin reaches out to wrap me up in his arms. “He’s getting out, Betsy.” Kevin has always called me Betsy. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know.

“I know.” I hug him right back. “We stopped there on the way.”

Ryann moves up behind me. Pulling away from Kevin, I watch as my dad, Will, appears with Freddie behind him holding a toddler. A toddler that could be Freddie’s doppelgänger. “This is Ryann.” I gesture behind me. Pointing to each of my family members one at a time, I introduce them to her. “We’re on a girls’ trip.”

“Welcome, Ryann. Welcome.” When the boys and my father move out of the way, Ryann and I enter. The second I’m close enough to my nephew, Shriver, I lean in and kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, Shrive, but I’m about to change that.”

“Thank you, Mr. Duncan,” Ryann says sweetly as soon as we’re inside. “Lovely home, Mr. Duncan.” Okay, that’s spreading it on a bit thick, but my dad seems to appreciate it.

“Aw, it ain’t much, but it’s home.” Looking around the place, it’s obvious he cleaned. I can smell the scent of Pledge furniture polish in the air. It looks nice. He’s even got a plant sitting beneath the front window. Life. “You two hungry? I made my famous chili.”

“Sure.” Ryann glances back at me, to which I nod, because Dad is right, his chili is the bomb.

“Yeah. That sounds great.”

The five of us squeeze around his small, round dining table as my nephew plays with a truck on the floor nearby. They ask Ryann questions about her life in Chicago. After that, we talk about Sam and what we can all do to make his transition easier. Now isn’t the time to talk about my idea about Chicago because, ultimately, that has to be Sam’s decision. Him and the state of Michigan, because he’ll have to get permission to leave the state, which could take months.

* * *

Rome:Congratulations to all of you. I’m happy for you, honey.

Rome has been texting me off and on during our drive from Chicago to the prison and from the prison to home. I’ve been responding whenever we’ve stopped for gas or snacks. Now, Ryann and I are at the hotel. I was able to book a room with two beds in a town about twenty miles from Shepherd since my old hometown doesn’t have one. Ryann’s dozing in her bed while something on the television hums and I lay on mine, reading and responding to more texts from Rome.

Me: Thanks. Everyone is beyond happy.

Rome: How long until he’s released?

Me: Not sure. Six months, maybe. It takes a while.

Rome: I read up on how we can get him here.

Me: You did?

Rome: Yes. I meant what I said. It’ll take some work and networking. I can sponsor him if we can get both states to sign off on it.

Me: You’d do that?

Rome: Of course. I want to make you happy. Not only that, I want your brother to land on his feet. I’ve read things about inmates getting released after a long sentence and how difficult it is for them to acclimate once they get out.

Me: Wow. You’ve done your homework.

And I appreciate that.

Me: Thank you.

Rome: How’s Ryann been doing?

Me: She whined almost the whole way about the long drive.

Rome: And that surprises you? She’s fourteen.

Me: LOL. True. Except I have a feeling she’ll be like that when she’s forty.

Rome: What are you ladies doing tomorrow?

Me: My brother, Freddie, is taking us swimming with his son, Shriver. Ryann and Shrive seemed to hit it off today.

Rome: That’s good.

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