What Happened That Night

In the morning, Aunt Ruthie didn’t eat breakfast. She said she wasn’t hungry because she’d eaten too much at dinner, but I knew that wasn’t true. Whenever Aunt Ruthie got upset, she didn’t eat. Lia was the same way, but Uncle Sal and I always turned to food during stressful times, which was probably why I ate three pancakes and a slice of bacon that morning.

As we drove to the prison, my stomach started acting strange. I could hear it gurgling, saying, Please take me back to the hotel. Please. I didn’t tell my aunt or uncle because I knew that seeing my father was something I had to do. Like Uncle Sal said, you couldn’t disobey a judge’s order.

As we turned into the parking lot, I stared up at the tall, barbed wire fence. In the gun tower, a guard holding a rifle peered down at us.

Uncle Sal parked the car and squeezed Aunt Ruthie’s hand. Pressing her lips together, she nodded as if trying to keep her emotions from tumbling out.

Glancing to the back seat at me, Uncle Sal gave a tentative smile. “Are you ready, kiddo?”

I nodded. “Of course, my horse.”

This time, Uncle Sal smiled for real. He loved silly expressions like that. “Okay, let’s do this thing.” Leaning over, he kissed Aunt Ruthie on the cheek, then we all got out of the car. Aunt Ruthie gave me a big hug and told me she’d be waiting right here when I finished.

My stomach made another gurgling sound before squeezing so tight I thought I might throw up. Now I knew what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach, except my butterflies were more like angry wasps, planning their attack.

After saying good-bye to Aunt Ruthie, Uncle Sal and I joined the group of people waiting to go inside. Usually, my friendly uncle talked to everyone. Today, he was silent. In fact, everyone was silent except for a toddler who kept wigging out of his mother’s arms and running away.

After passing through security, we followed the crowd into a big room with lots of tables. Then we waited and waited and waited.

Finally, the prisoners joined us. “There he is.” Uncle Sal gestured at my father. He looked like himself, which was a lot less scary than what I’d been imagining lately. Still, now that I knew why he’d been sent to prison, I felt afraid.

“Brandy.” My father teared up as he approached us.

I stared up at him, unable to speak. Inside my chest, my heart pounded as though I’d just run a thousand miles.

For a minute, I was afraid he might try to hug me, so I scooted closer to my uncle. Uncle Sal placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

Blinking away his tears, my father smiled as he sat at the table across from us. “I’m so happy to see you, Brandy. You’ve grown so much since your last visit.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at the tattoo on his arm and tried to ignore the bad feeling in my stomach.

“Do you remember this?” He touched the tattoo proudly.

I nodded. “It’s the fighter plane your dad flew in World War II.”

My father grinned. “That’s right. It’s called a P-51 Mustang.”

“Oh.”

Uncle Sal asked a question about World War II fighter planes. My father launched into a big explanation about the plane and the man who’d been my grandfather. Both of my father’s parents died before I was born, which made me sad for my dad until I remembered what he did to my mother. My mom’s parents were dead too, which meant the only grandparent I knew was Abuela, and she wasn’t even related to me by blood.

Suddenly my stomach pitched. Unable to stop myself, I threw up all over the table. It was awful because it went on and on forever.

“Whoa.” My father backed away from the table. “Is she sick?”

Uncle Sal patted my back. “It’s okay, Brandy. It’s okay.”

When I finally stopped throwing up, Uncle Sal took me to the bathroom, which smelled disgusting. With a paper towel, he cleaned me up the best he could.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling ill?” he asked.

Tears burned my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Uncle Sal squatted so he was eye level with me. “It’s okay, Brandy. Everything is going to be just fine.”

Wanting to believe him, I placed a hand on my stomach. “I feel better now, but before, I didn’t.”

“Okay. The visit is almost over. Do you think you can go back and finish?”