Song of the Fireflies

The long hallway is stark white, the tile floors and the white walls blending in with one another to appear seamless in my peripheral vision. The fluorescent lights shine overhead so brightly that I can almost see my reflection in the floor. I take my time, passing a few doors that lead to other strange rooms, and I have no interest in knowing what’s behind them. A fatherless family walks by: a woman with two small children, their hands clutched in hers. I wonder if they were here visiting their father. Bray doesn’t belong here. She’s no criminal. She didn’t murder anyone in cold blood or kill someone because she was under the influence of anything that impaired her judgment. She’s not a drug dealer or a thief or an abusive spouse. She doesn’t f**king belong here. I guess prison really doesn’t discriminate.

I turn the corner at the end of the long hall and enter a room. A guard points me to a table where I sit. And wait. There’s a clock high on the wall and to my left. Plain. Black and white and boring. There are several round, plastic, white tables positioned about the room. Eight families are already inside waiting at other tables. I realize as I glance around that I’m the only one here alone. I look down at the bright white table and trace my finger along an indentation that looks like it had been carved with something sharp, maybe a paperclip. It smells like bleach and Pine-Sol in here. The back of my nostrils begin to itch, and I take a deep breath, hoping to force back the brewing sneeze.

I look up at the clock. She should be coming in here any second now. I place my hand against my chest to feel my heart beating, because it’s beating too fast. Why was it so important that I make this visit? What is she going to tell me?

Just as I feel like my mind is going to come undone with the possibilities, bright orange moves against the stark white walls, and I look up to see Bray coming toward me wearing her usual orange jumpsuit, white socks, and thick plastic sandals that squeak against the floor.

I stand up. I smile at her as she approaches and she smiles back, but I don’t feel like it’s real, and my heart twists in knots.

“Hi baby,” I say and hug her gently. Physical contact is limited here.

Her hug is tight and doesn’t at all reflect the smile she gave me, but that only makes me feel a fraction better. Her hair is pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. She’s wearing no makeup, of course, and although she looks tired, physically and mentally, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

We sit down.

“Two weeks,” I say, smiling even brighter, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ll be back with me in no time.”

“Elias?” she says and my heart stops. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling. I swallow a knot in my throat, but another emerges behind it.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She inhales a deep breath into her lungs and then reaches up and wipes underneath her left eye with the edge of her finger.

Then suddenly, she smiles. I feel the corners of my eyes hardening in confusion and I c**k my head to one side curiously. A smile of my own teases the corners of my lips.

“What is it?” I ask, suddenly beaming.

Bray shakes her head. “It’s nothing,” she says and reaches her hands across the table, enclosing them over mine. Her fingers are cold and frail. She leans over and kisses the tops of my warm, calloused ones. And while I’m worried the guard might say something to her about that, I don’t care much, either.

“Then what was with your letter?” I ask.

She slides her hands away. “I just wanted to see you,” she says.

“But you knew I’d come,” I say. “I-It just… sounded urgent. Baby, is there something you’re not telling me?”

She sighs. “Yeah, but it’s not really that big of a deal.”

“Well, what is it?”

She hesitates and says, “My release date has been moved to the ninth.”

“But why?” I ask. “I mean it’s only four days more, but—”

“It’s just some kind of technicality,” she answers.

Wanting her to stay positive, I make sure to do the same. I let my smile reappear and I say, “Well, that’s fine. I mean, sure, four days sucks, but it’s just four days. You’ll be OK, right?”

She nods. “Yes.”

Something doesn’t feel right. I feel like she’s lying to me. But why would she do that? Why would she lie about something like that?

I’m just being paranoid. That’s ridiculous. No way I’m going to accuse her of not being truthful. Not now. She doesn’t need that from me.

“Good,” I say and reach out to hold her hands like she did mine.

“So, tell me about Mitchell,” Bray says.

“Well… he’s not on meth anymore,” I say. “And he’s working at that tire and lube place over by our old school. He really does feel like shit for what he did. To both of us. Not just me.”

Bray’s smile is soft and forgiving. “Well, you tell Mitchell that it’s OK,” she says. “I’m not mad at him. He couldn’t help what he did. How’s your mom doing? And your dad?”

“They’re great,” I say, nodding. “Mom got engaged to James. I just found out last Thursday. They’re getting married in March. My dad is the same as he was before. A hardworking loner. He wanted me to tell you he wants us to visit him in Savannah when you come home. He really likes you. Always has.”

Bray’s eyes light up with her smile and then she looks down at the table.

My smile fades and I’m reluctant to ask, but I have to. “Are… your parents, or Rian, still contacting you much?”

She shakes her head. “My mom has visited several times. I think she feels guilty. My dad… well, he’s visited me, but it feels like it always has, like he’s only here out of obligation. But I forgive him. I don’t want to feel angry or hurt by anyone anymore. I just want to be free. To feel free. In my heart, y’know?” She tilts her head to one side and her eyebrows draw inward thoughtfully.

Maybe I do know what she means, but then again, I feel like there’s something much more to it than that. Something about what she said fills me with an uncomfortable feeling. I can’t place it, but it worries me.

Having nothing more to go on, I simply nod and say, “Yeah, I know. I understand that need.” And then I ask, “What about Rian?”

Bray’s smile brightens a little again.