Unexpected

“We have to get you up and moving or you’re not gonna make it," Maggie insists. She tugs at my arms and pulls me into the bathroom.

“I don’t feel like going anywhere. Can’t you leave me alone?”

Maggie unzips her pink makeup bag and sorts through the items inside. She pulls my mediocre bag from under my sink and finds my foundation, then sets all of the products she plans to use on the counter. “I don’t care how you feel! Asher gets one day for visitors. How do you think he’ll feel if you don’t show up?"

“Asher can have visitors?” I ask through the fog. If he can have visitors, then I can convince him to tell the truth. It's not too late!

“Yes! Finally, I’m getting through to you! Now hurry up and jump in the shower. You smell horrible and I’ve got my work cut out for me with those dark circles.

I run my hand down my dress for the umpteenth time, smoothing invisible wrinkles, as I wait for the guard to call my name. Nervous energy runs rampant through my veins. These past ten days have been hell. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for Asher.

Before today, the only thing I knew about jail was from the show Orange Is the New Black. Now, having binge-watched every incarceration documentary on Netflix I could find the last three hours, I realize that show portrayed the correctional system through rose-colored glasses.

I stand, unable to sit any longer, and chew on my thumbnail. The waiting room is tiny. White walls match the white tiles, plain and devoid of life. The only color to keep your brain from playing tricks is from the grey cushioned chairs. I pace the room, glancing at the watch on my wrist every few steps.

The door opens and I jump from excitement. A man, maybe my father’s age, clad in his police uniform, holds a clipboard. “Elaine Walker?”

“That’s me!” I don’t bother to hide my excitement as I raise my hand and hustle across the room.

“I.D. please.”

I reach for my phone from my back pocket and push my cards up from the holder on my case. I procure my driver's license then hand it over. The man places it beside my name on his clipboard. He checks it twice before handing the card back to me. “This way, Miss.”

My heart ravages my ribcage with each step. The hallway I’m led down is wide but bare. Like the waiting room, it too is painted white, but the overhead fluorescent lights cast an eerie yellow veil upon them. We pass a series of doors, leading to what? I don’t know. Until finally stopping in front of the one I’ve been waiting for.

The man gestures to a seat then says, “He’ll be out in a moment.”

I nod and sit in front of the plexiglass divider that separates civilians from inmates. I don’t know what I expected, but I hoped we’d be in a big room, sitting across from each other, where I could get reprimanded for giving Asher the hug I so desperately need. I look around the room, impatiently waiting for the door on the other side to open. I’m the only visitor today and that breaks my heart. Not for Asher, but for everyone else.

A buzzing sound penetrates through the room. I sit up straighter, my body humming with anticipation. A door opens against the white wall. I hear the clanking of chains before I see him.

Asher, my Asher, doesn’t look like the man I saw ten days ago. My Asher radiates confidence and brings light into a room. This shell of a man looks broken, beat down, and is sporting a black eye he didn’t have before.

Asher holds up his hands for the guard, who uncuffs him and steps back against the wall. I pick up the corded phone on my side of our barrier and wait for him to do the same. Tired eyes reach mine. He reaches for his phone and I can’t help but notice the wince he tries to hide.

“What happened?” I ask the moment the receiver is against his ear.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” he grumbles.

The rubber band around my lungs snaps. Hearing Asher’s voice, even as pained and tired as it sounds, is the medicine I needed. I wish I could hug him and kiss all of his pain away. I take a moment to study Asher, and he seems to be doing the same.

Asher rubs his hand over his face and sighs, what little resolve he had breaking in front of me. “You look like shit, El.”

I shrug. I tried to make myself halfway presentable. Maggie straightened my hair then pulled it into a high ponytail, w

rapping a braid around the tie. She even attempted to put on makeup on me this morning, but my physical appearance isn’t what he’s talking about. My dress hangs loosely from my lack of appetite. My eyes have sunk in a bit, and no matter how much concealer Maggie caked onto my face, she couldn’t hide the dark circles that have tattooed themselves under my eyes.

“I miss you, Asher.”

He smiles, but it looks pained. “El…”

Sensing whatever he’s about to say won’t be good, I cut him off. “Dad says your trial should start in a few weeks. June-B, from the diner, said she’d be a character witness. She’s willing to go on trial and tell everyone how much of a monster Clint was. Dad thinks the prosecutor will offer a plea deal.”

“El…”

“You’re going to beat this Asher, I know you are.” I insist because there's no other option. My conscience will eat me alive if Asher rots behind bars much longer.

“El...”