A Small Town Dream (15 page)

Her parents had not understood in the least and tried to talk her out of it. Waiting in line, she began to wonder if they had been right. She had been frisked, filled out papers, answered questions, received a slip of paper, then waited in yet another line, and was now sitting in a dingy, dimly lit room. The others seemed at ease, knowing the routine, but she was new, an outsider, and they could all tell.

“It’s time, folks,” a large, pot-bellied guard called out to the room and everyone began to gather packages and envelopes and move toward the door. Annie was near the back of the line, watching people show their passes and then move off to the right. When she reached the guard, he pointed her toward the left.

“But, I’m going to visit someone,” she protested, wanting to join the others.

“Maximum,” he grunted and pointed toward the left again. She hesitated. “
That
way, miss, and you only have an hour so, you’d better be quick about it.” So she walked down the hall to the left.

Soon, she found herself sitting in a chair facing a thick pane of glass. To her right was a telephone in its cradle. She saw a few familiar faces sitting on her side of the glass, and she smiled shyly at them. Then a loud buzzer sounded, and a red light over the door on the other side of the glass blinked on. The others sat up straighter. A woman two seats away from her, who she had seen on the bus ride, looked over at her.

“First time, right?” she said and Annie nodded. “Try not to look too shocked honey, that’s not good for their morale.” Annie tried to smile, but it was all too much. She was regretting her choice again. This place was depressing, and she still had not figured out why she had come. She had assumed it would make sense when she got here but, now, she
was
here and it made no sense at all.

On the other side, the door opened, and a large, muscular guard stepped in followed by a man in an orange jumpsuit. His hands were shackled. He stepped to a window, then sat down and picked up the phone. Annie waited. Another inmate did the same, and then another. Finally, Parker stepped through the door. She inhaled sharply and then, remembering the woman’s words, forced a smile and tried to steady her pounding heart.

Parker saw her and stopped in his tracks. He started to turn away, but the guard shoved him brusquely, and he stumbled toward the chair opposite Annie. He sat but kept his eyes down. She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. It smelled of cigarettes and sorrow. She waited. He looked up, but only halfway, then reached for the phone on his side. He took it from the cradle but did not put it to his ear. Instead, he laid it on the table in front of him, then looked at her again. She forced another smile. He took a deep breath and then raised the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Parker,” she chirped, trying to sound uplifting, but not feeling it.

Parker stared at her for a long moment. Then his face twisted into something beyond ugly, and he shouted loudly enough for her to hear through the glass.

“It’s your fault, you fucking bitch! This is
all
your
goddam
fault!” Anne wanted to run, but she had come that far, so…

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren't for you!”

“Parker, I—”

“You did this to me!”

“I’m sorry—”

“Go to hell, Annie Stewart!” At that, he lunged toward the glass but the guard was quick. He grabbed the back of his jumpsuit. Parker glared at her.

“Parker, take it back—”

“Fuck you!” The guard pulled Parker out of his seat.

“Take it back, Parker, please—” The guard shoved Parker toward the door. He glared at Annie over his shoulder.

“Go to hell!” she heard through the glass. The guard yanked Parker around and shoved him through the doorway. As he crossed the threshold, he mouthed at her,
fuck you
.

“You take that back, Parker.” But he was gone.

“Take it back, Parker,
please
.” A guard on her side stepped up and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Please, Parker.”

“Miss?” The guard gently took the receiver from her hand.

“Parker, please, take it…” Annie buried her face in her hands and sobbed. The guard stood quietly, his hand still on her shoulder. The woman next to Annie, the one who had said to keep up a good front, handed a tissue to the guard.

“Miss,” he offered her the tissue, “visiting time’s up.” She looked up at him. His eyes were so kind. He handed her the tissue. “Come on, miss, it’s time to go.”

“He’s right, honey.” Annie looked at the woman. “It’s OK. Just go home.” Annie nodded faintly. The guard held out his hand.

“Let’s get you back to the bus, miss.” Annie looked up. He held out his hand to help her stand. She took it, numb. The other woman finished her visit, then took Annie’s other arm. Annie allowed herself to be led, supported by the two of them, out of the visiting room, out of the waiting room, out of the prison, onto the bus, and into a seat.

“My brother was like that when he first went in,” the woman said, taking a seat beside Annie. “He blamed me, blamed our parents... Blamed everybody but himself. You can’t take it personally, honey, or it’ll eat you up inside. He’s scared, confused, and he’s lashing out. It’s not your fault, sweetie, you have to know that.” Annie nodded, still numb, still shaken. “You have to just let it go and try to understand where he’s coming from.” She offered Annie another Kleenex. Annie took it and wiped her eyes. “He seems awfully young. What’s he in for?”

Annie blew her nose. “Murder,” she mumbled. The woman’s eyes widened, then she shook her head sadly.

“I’m so sorry, honey. Did you—?”

“He killed…a girl I…” Annie faltered. The woman rubbed her back. Annie looked up, her face splotchy. “He killed my best friend.” Annie dissolved into tears. The woman put her arm around Annie’s shoulders.

“Oh, dear lord, that’s bad. I’m so sorry honey, I truly am.” She gave Annie’s shoulders a squeeze. “All the same though, you still can’t take this on yourself. He needs time. He’ll adjust. My brother did. Found the Lord in there. Asked me to forgive him. Asked my parents to forgive him.” Annie snuffled. The woman offered another tissue. “I used to hate coming to see him but, now, he’s full of the Holy Spirit, and his heart is kind. He’s a better person. You give him time, let him think, stew a bit and he’ll be different. Trust me, next time you visit, he will probably apologize for his behavior.” She let go, patted Annie’s shoulder and took a book out of her bag.

Annie looked out the window at the cardboard cut-out world passing by. The landscape, the trees, the houses, the people, now silhouetted by the lampposts that blinked on one by one in the dusky evening.

“I’m never going back,” she said, and then turned to the woman. The woman looked up from her book and smiled but said nothing.

“Never,” Annie said to the night. Then she folded her arms and closed her eyes.

“That was very brave,” Dean said. Annie looked around the room, sighed, and then closed her eyes.

“I didn’t feel very brave. I wanted to run away.”

“From Parker? Or run from something else?” Annie shrugged. “Well, I still think it was a good idea. Have you figured out just why you wanted to go?” She shook her head.

“I just wanted to. Does that seem foolish?” This time Dean shook
his
head.

“Not at all. And don’t worry. Your reasoning will become clear over time. So, how are you feeling now?”

Annie had returned to the counselor’s office three days after going to see Parker. She had already considered going back after the first session. She liked Dean. She particularly liked his no-nonsense attitude.

“Things are…different.”

“How so?” She shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just feel...
off
. Weird.”

“Weird?”

“Maybe weird isn’t a good word for it. It’s all just so…
different
. I don’t know what to do. I liked things the way they were. I was going to come see you anyway, even before…Parker. Dean,
no
one has ever cursed me like that. And the jail. It was awful. I wanted to run back here where it was safe, but now everything’s so different here, too. I just don’t know…how to
live
here, I guess would be a way to say it.”

“So what do you want to do about it?” Annie knew to listen, but did not feel the need to respond. “Do you
want
to run away?” She looked at him. “The town hasn’t changed, Anne. It’s still the same old Rockland. The people, the shops, this school, everything is the same. You know that, don’t you?” Again, she didn’t feel the need to answer his question. “It helps if we both add to the conversation, Anne.” She laughed, then changed the subject abruptly.

“What did you mean about people faced with tragedy show their weird and self-involved side?” He shook his head and chuckled. “What? I’m ‘adding to the conversation.’” She made air quotes.

“Actually, I think you’re
avoiding
the conversation but, okay,” he said. He leaned his elbows on his desk. “There are people who use this kind of situation to make it all about themselves. How their life is completely upside down now. How they can’t seem to find purpose, even though, like I said before, they didn’t know Connie at all. They need attention, and they use this kind of situation as an excuse to get it. Trust me, I have dozens of them sitting in that chair, right where you are, every single day.” She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t worry, Anne. I’m not putting you in that category, trust me. You seem to be handling this rather well.”

“Does that worry you, though? That I’m handling it well and not being bothered by it all? Do you think that I’m a psychopath?”

“Psychopath isn’t the right term here. Parker’s—”

“Parker’s what? You think Parker’s a psychopath? What do you know?” Dean put his hands up and back-pedaled.

“I don’t know anything, Anne, and it’s not for me to judge at this point. Besides, we’re here to talk about
you
. I don’t think there is anything seriously wrong. You’re grieving just fine. You just need help sorting some things out that’s all. That was a huge step you took, going to the prison. That shows a lot of maturity.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Anne. Don’t get defensive. That was a compliment.”

“All right then. Thank you.”

“We do need to get back to this sudden desire to run away.”

“I’m not running away,” she corrected him, “I’m just... I want to leave. I’m not trying to be dramatic or... I just want out. I love this town, and I’d planned to stay here for the rest of my life but now, it’s not the same. Despite you and your ‘educated opinion,’ the town is
not
the same. How can we go through something like this and
not
be changed? That makes
no
sense whatsoever, and I am frankly shocked that you would sit there and tell me nothing’s different.”

“
Frankly
shocked?” Dean echoed. “How old are you, Anne?”

“Doesn’t it say in my file?” she countered.

“It does, but, for some reason I don’t believe it,” he replied, flipping through her file. “It says that you’re…only eighteen.”

“
Only
eighteen? What do you mean?” He closed the file again.

“Well, you’re very—”

“Mature?” Annie interjected.

“I was going to say cynical,” he said and she thought about it for a moment. Was he right? She never saw herself as cynical. She thought she was open and honest and accepting. Maybe she had changed.