Scenario:Walking up those steps into a room where keys are turning, steal doors slam, after signing in putting mums belonging into a locker we go up the loud steal step,s they clang as we walk up see dad.
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Walking up those steps into a room where keys are turning, steal doors slam, after signing in putting mums belonging into a locker we go up the loud steal step,s they clang as we walk up see dad.
Ella
She is a student in her final semester of high school. She is determined, anxious, and introspective. Ella struggles with the stress of the future, particularly planning to attend Harvard, and the uncertainty of her parents' marriage. She is dealing with the loss of a childhood friend and feeling isolated at school. She is preparing to say goodbye to her grandmother, who is in hospice care, and is struggling to cope with her emotions.
Dad
He is a high school history teacher and Ella's father. He is supportive, reserved, and burdened. He struggles to maintain a professional demeanor at work, even though he is dealing with marital issues at home. He is preparing to attend his grandmother's hospice care visitation, where he will receive news about Ella's acceptance to Harvard. Despite his efforts to appear strong, he is emotionally vulnerable and burdened by the responsibilities of his job and family.
Grandma
She is a patient in hospice care and a significant figure in Ella's life. She is gentle, frail, and loving. She played a significant role in raising Ella and was a close confidante. Despite her weakened state, she remains concerned about Ella's future and expresses admiration for her granddaughter's resilience. Her impending death looms over the family's emotional landscape, making every interaction emotionally charged and potentially farewell moments for them to share.
Walking up those steps and hearing the keys turn and the steal doors slam shut behind me always makes me anxious.
I hate it.
Once I walk through the second set of doors, I look around at all the others in the room. Keys jangling, babies & women crying couples happy just to see each other a cuddle, a kiss and we sit at our allocated seats.
Every Saturday we would visit this Castle. I never new really why apart from dad had stuffed up again.
I know I am. Bored coming here, but mum takes us to visit ,for dad to see us, i know the place fascinates me. But i also at age 7, know i don't want to visit anymore. It's Saturday and I'd rather see my friends and play. Like normal friends do.
I walk up the loud steel steps, each clang of my feet echoing in my ears.
I walk through the first set of doors and wait for them to close before I hear the keys turn and the second set of doors open.
I walk through them and look around at all the men in uniforms and the men in suits.
I know they are all cops, but I also know that the ones in suits are higher up than the ones in uniforms.
I walk over to a chair and take a seat.
The room is loud with people talking, but it’s also quiet because you can hear the slamming of doors and people yelling from down the hallways.
The Big House is what Dad calls it, but I know everyone else calls it "Clink."
I sit there for a few minutes before I see a door open and a man walk out.
He looks around until his eyes land on me and Mom.
He walks over to us and sits down next to Mom.
Hey my girls. Dad gives us a big hug & kiss
"Hey, kiddo," he says with a smile on his face.
He then looks at Mom and whispers something in her ear, but she doesn’t respond to him; she just nods her head. He gets up and walks away from us, leaving Mom and me sitting there waiting for Dad to come out of his cell.
I hate coming here every week, but I know that I have to if I want to see my dad.
We sit there for another 10 minutes before we hear the door open again, this time slower than before.
My eyes go to the door, and I see Dad standing there looking at us with no expression on his face as he walks over to us.
Mom stands up when he gets closer to us, and she wraps her arms around him as he hugs her back tightly.
I stand up next to them so that Dad can hug me too.
I sit down in the hard plastic chair across from him.
He sits there fidgeting with the sleeve of his orange jumpsuit.
The fluorescent lights are shining down on us, making Dad’s face look older than he really is.
He is 45 years old, but the way the lights are shining on his face makes him look like he is 50.
Mom is sitting next to me, and every once in a while, she will lean forward and put her hand on mine as she listens to Dad talk about what he does every day.
There is a guard standing behind us, and every once in a while, we can hear his boots squeak as he walks around behind us.
Dad leans forward and tries to reach across the table to touch my hand, but the guard clears his throat, telling Dad that he can’t do that. Dad pulls his hand back and curls it into a fist before placing it on the table in front of him.
He then continues talking about what his cellmate does all night long—snores so loud that it keeps him up most nights.
"Dad," I interrupt, "did you hear anything about the appeal?"
His eyes flicker with a mix of hope and resignation.
"They said it might take another six months, but my lawyer thinks we have a good shot this time."
I nod, trying to muster some optimism.
"Okay, that’s good."
Just then, a woman walks into the visiting area.
She is wearing the prison blues and has her shirt unbuttoned a little too far down for my liking.
She looks over at Dad and smiles before walking over to a table on the other side of the room to meet with her visitors.
Dad’s shoulders tense up as he watches her walk away from us.
He clears his throat and quickly changes the subject.
Hows the new school my girls? Dad asks, we had to move schools dad because we have a different house again. That closes that subject , he looks to mum and carries on talking. I take in surroundings & other people chatting , about their lives, some happy, others argued quietly.
I glance over at the woman, who is now laughing loudly with her visitors.
Her voice carries across the room, and I can tell it’s getting under Dad’s skin . She looks like a women? I think. But she sounds like a man, and the hands are men's hands. Confused , i keep my thoughts to my self.
His eyes keep darting towards the woman, but he won’t look directly at her.
His ears have turned bright red, and I can tell he’s getting agitated by her presence.
I wonder what their story is.
Why does she seem to have such an effect on him?
I know Mom notices it too because I feel her grip on my hand tighten under the table until her knuckles turn white.
The guard announces that visiting hours are ending, and Dad stands up to hug me goodbye.
"Dad," I say softly, "who is she?"
He hesitates, glancing at Mom before replying, "Just someone I knew from before... before all this."
Mom's voice is steady but firm as she adds, "We can talk about it next time, okay?"
