Chapter 9 - THE FINAL VISIT
One year after my return to America.
The visitation room at the Federal Corrections Complex in Sheridan was cold, sanitized, and smelled heavily of industrial floor wax.
I sat on one side of a thick plexiglass partition, wearing a simple cream sweater and dark jeans.
A heavy steel door opened on the opposite side of the room.
Evan was led in by two corrections officers. He was wearing an oversized orange prison jumpsuit. His hair had been shaved short, his skin was sickly pale, and the arrogant, charismatic posture he had carried for a decade had completely collapsed into a stooped, defeated posture.
He sat down on the stool across from me and picked up the heavy plastic telephone handset.
I picked up mine.
"Mara," he said, his voice raspy through the electronic speaker. "You came."
"I came because your attorney sent three letters asking for a meeting," I said, my voice flat and emotionless. "You have five minutes, Evan. Say what you have to say."
Evan gripped the handset tightly, his knuckles turning white. "I... I need you to talk to the prosecutor, Mara. My appeal is coming up next month. If you sign an affidavit saying we had a verbal agreement regarding the Swiss remittances, they can reduce my sentence to six years—"
I let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "You called me here to ask for help with your appeal?"
"Mara, please!" Evan begged, his eyes wide with desperate panic. "I’m losing my mind in here! The people... the food... I wasn't made for a place like this! I made mistakes, okay?! I got greedy! But I’m still Caleb’s father!"
"You stopped being Caleb’s father the day you left him in a shelter while you bought a mansion," I said, my voice cold as ice. "You stopped being a human being the day you forced my elderly parents to beg on a sidewalk so you could pose for fake photographs."
"I was trying to build a empire for us!" Evan shrieked, slamming his palm against the plexiglass.
The guard behind him immediately stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Evan’s shoulder. Evan flinched, pulling his hand back.
"You built an empire of lies, Evan," I said, leaning closer to the glass. "And it collapsed because you forgot one simple thing."
"What?" Evan whispered, tears of anger and fear spilling down his pale face.
"You thought I was weak because I stayed quiet and worked hard," I said softly. "You thought because I was thousands of miles away, I had no power. But the money you stole didn't make you strong, Evan. It just made you careless."
I stood up from the chair, holding the handset to my ear for one final sentence.
"Caleb scored three goals at his soccer game yesterday," I said smoothly. "He doesn't ask about you. He doesn't mention your name. As far as he is concerned, his family consists of his grandparents, his mother, and the people who actually love him. You are just a bad dream he forgot."
I hung up the phone, placed it back on the wall hook, and turned my back on him.
May you like
Behind the glass, Evan began pounding his fists against the partition, screaming my name, but the sound was completely deadened by the thick reinforced glass.
I walked out the heavy steel doors into the bright, crisp autumn sunshine.
