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“Hey, baby,” she said. “How
you doing?” She was nervous and felt light headed.
“Better now.
Better. Girls, you look so good. Martin, man, what’s happening?”
Martin Jr. slapped his father five and gave him an awkward hug.
“Nothing, dad.”
Martin Sr. looked at his son. He was growing up,
getting older.
“Lena, you are so beautiful. G,d, you are so beautiful.
Girls, girls, girls. Come here and give me another hug. You too, man.”
The family hugged each other and talked about small things in their lives that
were large because they were each experienced without the presence of their
father, who had killed two people when he was high, was sentenced to die, then
was a given a reprieve from death. He was to spend the rest of his life in
prison until he died. He would never walk a free man no matter how badly his
heart mourned for his mistake or his son’s anguish.
After a while, the
visitation was over for another Sunday and Martin Sr. left his family. He was
given another strip search and sent back to his cell. The Williams family went
slowly home, the girls thinking of how much they loved and missed their father,
Lena thinking how she must stay faithful to her self, her family, her husband
and to G,d, and Martin Jr. thinking about shame and about another family who
was missing a father as well.
The sun stretched golden across the hills.
Martin Jr. turned his face into the wind and imagined himself floating down a
river on a small wooden boat, drifting, a much smaller boat then the larger,
expensive yacht he had dreamed of before. The wood smelled damp, insects buzzed
and flew in circles, small waves rhythmically lapped against the side. But in
his dream, he was troubled because the waves sounded a little like the old part
of the roof at his house. And he didn’t know how much a small boat like
that cost or if he would ever own one.
But the wind felt good
nevertheless