So it’s important for you to understand, Annemarie, that this is also part of the story of your origin, your conception. I was ready to part ways with him then, and a different kind of man would have feigned apathy or bravado about that, shrugged off the breakup and moved on. — Yes, it’s true that the many things he and I did wrong were a part of what ensured that you would be born. But you also could not have been born without the careful cultivation of all this love, the effort and commitment that went into maintaining it.
I wish I could share with you every one of the moments that ushered your soul a little closer to the Earth. I wish he could share them with you as well. While I would like to believe that everything ultimately works out the way it’s meant to, I am not above calling a loss a loss.
Chapter Eleven
When Forrest comes to visit again, I feel better prepared. I half-expected it, after seeing his donation to my canteen account, and in anticipation of visiting hours I allowed Penelope to style my hair in front of our small mirror, just in case. She cracked open a safety razor to extract the blade—a choice she’s going to regret when she realizes she needs to trade it in to get a new one—and trimmed her bangs, then mine, before shaping the hair that frames my face. I’m surprised by the way I look in the mirror; my hair has gotten long enough to sweep my shoulders, and after Penelope’s careful attention it actually looks pretty. “You’re lucky you’re blonde,” she told me, “it hides the gray really well,” and I decide a graceless compliment is better than none at all.
Forrest looks like he’s cleaned up a bit as well. His hair is less shaggy, his face is freshly shaved, and he’s wearing clean jeans and brown loafers instead of the work boots of last time. He holds out his arms, and I glance at the guard before hugging him rather stiffly. The scent of his body, even the quick trace of it, brings back the memory of his kiss in sudden, enveloping full color.
“How’s it going?” he asks. He looks nervous.
“Same as ever,” I say, then reconsider that. “Well, a little excitement. I got a new roommate.”
“That could be good or bad, I suppose.”
“Well, it’s both. I really miss my old one.” Talking to him, I feel more awkward than I anticipated. Roommate, for goodness’ sake—as if this is my college dormitory and I just welcomed a freshman English major from Pasadena. It’s as though I’m anxious for him to see me as the girl he knew from Ricky’s place, the dentist’s assistant who liked cats and pop music and eye makeup, current circumstances be damned. “Thank you for the canteen money,” I offer.
He nods and looks away. “I don’t miss jail.”
“I imagine you don’t.”
“Did you know Chris was killed by his cellie?”
I nod slowly. “A bad debt, is what I heard. That coke habit followed him inside.” I hesitate, then say, “I’d rather not talk about those people. Why don’t you tell me how you’ve been doing, instead.”
Bewilderment moves across his face. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, do you have a family? What do you do for a living?”
“I, uh… I have two daughters. I work for the phone company, putting in fiberoptic systems for commercial clients.” He pauses. “That’s about it.”
“Are you married?” He wears no ring, but that’s not necessarily an indicator.
He winces a bit. “That’s a complicated question.”
I reply with a low, knowing laugh, but I feel bitten by the answer. Why are you visiting me, then, I think. I’m not so desperate for companionship that I’ll welcome a man who kisses me while his wife waits at home. I like my own company just fine.
He leans forward on the bench, resting his forearms on his knees and rubbing his hands together. There’s a glower to his brow that wasn’t there when he was younger. “My wife left me about eight years ago. She ran off with this guy she met playing EverQuest. To Nova Scotia.”
I frown. “What’s EverQuest?”
“It’s an online video game—like Dungeons & Dragons as a computer game. She was some kind of fairy or elf or something, and she played constantly. Middle of the night. Christmas Day. You name it. You remember War Games? The movie?”
I sit up straighter and smile. “Yes! Where the boy hacks into the computer and starts a nuclear war, right? Ricky and I saw that—oh, the year before, I guess. I’d forgotten all about it. We loved that movie.”
“Yeah, well.” His gaze flicks over my face, then drops again. “The kid thinks it’s a game at first, but then finds out it’s real. That’s how it was with Shelly. I thought she was obsessed with the game, and it was dragging down my life really bad. Eating macaroni and cheese all the time, taking the girls to school every morning because she’d been up playing all night, just feeling alone. We hadn’t slept together in months. And then I come to find out she’s been communicating with this…troll. I mean, in the game, he was a troll. And we had unlimited long distance because I worked for the phone company, so I never noticed she was talking to Nova Scotia every goddamn day.” He glances at me. “Sorry.”
“Sounds like you’re still angry about it.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t care about her anymore. That was a long time ago. It’s my girls I feel bad for. They were ten and twelve. Girls that age need their mother. But she never looked back. I had to figure out a lot of things real fast.” He holds up both hands, drawing an imaginary doorway between us. “We have this linen closet. Well, I went to the drugstore and I bought every kind of pad, tampon, you name it, just about every type in the aisle, and I crammed it all into that closet. I told them, leave the empty boxes so I know what to buy. Made me a better father than I would have been otherwise, that much is true. The younger one’s going off to college, so I guess we made it through. The older one’s a junior at ASU.”
I smile. “What are their names?”
“Kelly and Lindsay. They’re sweet, tough girls. She doesn’t know how much she’s missing.” He attempts a reassuring smile, but its tension pulls at my heart. “Anyway, I never bothered to get an official divorce. I had better things to do with that money than pay lawyers. And not like I had any need to get remarried. With Kelly leaving, and me not running Dad’s Taxi to and from school play rehearsals anymore, I’m just now getting time to have hobbies again.”
“I do ballet.”
He catches my eye and grins. “I didn’t realize they offered that in prison.”
“They don’t. I do it on my own, in my cell. I have a radio. I don’t have slippers, so I stick moleskin to the bottom of a pair of socks. It works, sort of.”
“How do you have room?”
“Well, I have to keep it compact. But I enjoy it a lot. It probably looks ridiculous, but in my imagination it’s beautiful.”
His eyes are bright with amusement. “Kelly did ballet for a long time. She quit when she was fifteen or so, when school got in the way too much. You can’t even imagine the number of recitals I’ve sat through.”
“That sounds like heaven to me.”