Visitation Hours

She looked through her closet and picked out grey sweats, black shirt, and black socks. Her clothes had to be approved. She knew all the dress code rules from last time when she got kicked out for wearing leather pants. She ran downstairs, quickly slipped on her sneakers, and jumped in the car. She could not be even one minute late. She had memorized the road now, since she has been seeing him for a weeks already. She drives up to the castle-looking building and walks out of her car. It is a slow walk to the waiting bench, where everyone sits. On her first time a few weeks ago, she came early and did not know what to do. She knocked on the door, an officer had come out. He told her to wait, then closed the door on her. Eventually, someone came early too and had told her how the doors open at the specific time, not one minute soon
er or later. If you are late, they will not let you in.

An officer came out, called out each name, pronouncing her last name wrong. Like always. She waited in line, showed her ID. Then again, she had to sit down and wait till a different officer called her name up. After five minutes, everyone’s names were called up. They were told to wait outside to be walked to the hundred year-old gates. After the minute walk down the hill, their names were called out again. They had their left hands stamped, showing their IDs along with it. Then their was security check. Taking off her jacket, shoes, and belt, she walked through the security. Putting everything back on, she began waiting for the other visitors to go through as well. She was always the first one done. All she had to do was wait a few more minutes, have them open the iron gate, walked down another hill and wait. Waiting was the hardest part, but she got used to it.

She was finally in what looked like her elementary school cafeteria from years ago. In the “cafeteria” there was a tv, board games, vending machines, and people everywhere. Mostly men dress in denim pants and jackets. They had their friends, preachers, lovers, and kids. Even infants were allowed. A girlfriend making her man a salad with avocado, using the plastic knife and fork she had available to her. An inmate husband playing with his kid, not knowing what it is like for the single mom wife living desperately alone. And then the girlfriend who is arguing with her lover about her other “someone.”

The food from the machines weren’t so bad. There was cheese sticks, rockstars, chocolate milk, and chicken sandwiches. Of course all packaged, but not bad for a prison. Some people were here as charity work. Some did not know who they married. Some got pregnant with the wrong guy. However, she was here for him only because she loved him. She was here because he needed her. All his friends left him. She was all he had.

As she waited and waited, staring at the door with each inmate popping out. One guy after another. Is it him? A Mexican came out greeting his wife. Is it him? An African-American with dreads came out greeting his girlfriend. Is it him? An older white man came out, greeting his broth- oh…. Is it- dark skinned, slicked back hair, and that smile came out from the door. She looked for a second, caught his smile, and ran up to him. He grabbed his little sister, swung her up in the air so everyone could see, and kiss her on the cheek. Finally. (Video attached if you click the word “finally”)

They bought a burrito, some orange juice, and began talking.