“Do you want to go home?” I ask. “We don’t have to do this today if you’re not up for it.”
“I’m not going to be any more up for it tomorrow than I will be today,” he says. “May as well just get it over with so I don’t have to listen to him complain about how I never went and saw him in the joint. Right now, I think the best I can do is just try to minimize whatever damage he tries to cause today. Are you still all right going in there with me?” he asks.
“Of course,” I tell him, “whatever you need.”
I’ve never had to visit a family member in jail, but that’s because they let wealthy people to get away with anything. I almost told Mason a couple of times, but it just never feels like the right time.
Equating what Chris has done with what my parents still actively do is easy enough. The consequences, though, are a much different thing. I don’t know how he’d react.
There’s not much I know how to say on the rest of the drive to the county jail where Chris awaits whatever’s to come. When we get there, I just park and we both get out without a word.
As we’re walking up to the door, I grab his hand and hold it. He doesn’t pull away, but I can feel the tension in him.
“I’ll be right here the whole time,” I tell him quietly, just before we get to the door.
“Yeah,” he says in a near whisper.
We enter the jail and remove our keys, wallets and cellphones, placing them in the plastic trays to be scanned. He goes through the metal detector, then I get beeped back out of it.
He just stands there with crossed arms and a distant look while I go through all of my pockets until I realize my underwire bra is the culprit. They spare me the humiliation of removing it and use the wand instead while Mason stands unflinching on the other side of the metal detector.
I finally get through and we follow the sign to the visiting area. It hadn’t really occurred to me that there would be much waiting, but minute after minute ticks away on the old clock on the wall.
Mason is quiet. I don’t know that talking would even help, but I feel so helpless sitting here.
Finally, Chris comes into view of the booth where we’re sitting and he takes a seat on the other side of the glass. I’m busy looking for a phone when Chris starts talking, the sound traveling easily through the tiny holes in the glass.
“I know it’s not my best look, but I think I’m pulling off the whole incarcerated thing,?
? Chris says. “I haven’t shaved for a couple of days. That’s key.”
I don’t want to talk before Mason’s had a chance, but the silence stretches from a few seconds to half a minute. Finally, it’s too awkward and I break the seal, saying, “How are you doing?”
“I’m all right, I guess,” he says. “People aren’t as touchy-feely here as the movies make out.”
“That’s got to be a relief,” I chuckle nervously.
“It is,” he says, “definitely. Still, I’m so insecure, I can’t stop thinking maybe it’s me. Am I really that unattractive?” he asks. “You’d think I’d get at least a gentleman’s look in the shower.”
The fact that I’m trying to not laugh is making it that much more difficult to contain it. Mason’s clearly upset, more upset than I’ve seen him since that fight, though it’s coming out in a very different way. I don’t want to make light of things, but Chris really is kind of charming in a sleazy, I’d-never-leave-him-alone-in-a-room-with-my-purse kind of way.
“Have you worked out a deal yet?” Mason asks.
“Whoa, hey bro,” Chris teases. “When’d you get here?”
“Whatever,” Mason says. “I just need to know whether you’ll be out in time to pick up the stuff you left at my house, or if I’m better off donating it.”
“My little brother, always the bucket of sunshine,” Chris says, looking to me with a quick flash of the eyes.
The guilt I’m feeling tells me he’s looking for some kind of lifeline, some sort of validation, something. Being human and being here at the same time, I can’t help but want to offer him some sort of reassurance, but that’s not why I’m here.
I’m here to help Mason get through this.
Chris looks back to his little brother, letting me off the hook, but Mason just sits there, shaking his head.
“Listen, I know there’s nothing I can say right now that you’re going to believe,” Chris says.
“I believe that,” Mason says.