This is the third post in my series on Family Visits—staying overnight with my inmate! Read the first two posts about The Prep and The Process. These eight vignettes are arranged in a “He said, She said” order, not necessarily chronologically. Be aware that it is impossible to capture all the moments that mean so much in just one post.

The Gate

She said:

Let’s set the scene. The shuttle bus pulls up in front of the row of fenced-in 4-plex units. With a key from the massive ring attached to her belt, the officer unlocks the hefty bolt on the very tall, at least 8-foot gate. This takes a long time because the bolt is rusty. It requires a lot of force to push it up.

BAM! BAM!

The gate opens to a sidewalk which leads straight to the door, in between two small rectangular halves of fake grass. The door is propped open, the better for MFT to see when the van pulls up. Ever the gentleman, he comes out to help bring in my steamer trunks.

For prison accommodations, the interior is actually very nice. (Dolly had been worried.) Since his slinky is kinky and we are always assigned to the sole handicapped unit, we had nothing to compare it to until MFT’s fully-functioning friends had family visits in the same unit. Bougie was the consensus.

If large swathes of paint peeling off the bathroom wall, dead flying bugs on every windowsill, and grime from the Clinton era are bougie, what must the regular barracks be like?

The Bed

He said:

Coming from a narrow, hard bunk after 24 years, it was magical to be on such an enormous soft mattress, but this bed is so soft or maybe I’m so heavy that it feels like quicksand sucking me in. It takes a lot of effort just to move. A huge gravity pull. But it’s so fluffy! It’s marshmallow quicksand.

The Phone

She said:

Lest you get too comfortable in prison, the guards call you on the phone at 10:00 PM, 12:00 AM, 3:00 AM, and 5:00 AM. Each night. Your inmate is then required to get up, get dressed, go outside, and walk down to the inner 8-foot tall gate outside the Proverbial Palace to stand and wait. At night. No matter the weather. Eventually, the guard passes by and gives the okay to go back inside. (There is also a headcount at 5 PM in which the family members must participate.)

Since my MFT is my champion and his Dolly is so dependent on sleep (a requirement for her mental health that is non-negotiable for proper functioning) he sets his watch to vibrate a little bit before each time, goes out in the dark and sits with his finger on the phone (it’s the old-style—the kind that attaches to a wall), so he can answer it as soon as the loud, aggressive ring starts to peal and the bright white light starts to flash. It’s a police car in the kitchen. Sometimes he sits and waits in position a long time, since the guards aren’t very time-conscious in the middle of the night. Combined with Dolly’s heavy-duty earplugs, this works surprisingly well to preserve her beauty sleep.

He said:

One of my reasons for leaving the marital bed early is that the loud phone + the marshmallow quicksand + Dolly’s semi-conscious, entangling “Don’t leave me!” impedes my speedy exit.[1] When a prison guard calls you on the phone, you don’t dally.

(Knowing that the wives of my friends read this blog, I might have to apologize with Honey Buns for raising the baseline.)

The Head

She said:

You know, taking a shower together when you’re 49 and 54 is not as exciting as it is when you’re 18 or 19. Temperature preferences come into play more than when you’re younger. Dolly works hard to keep her skin from being scalded off, while MFT works just as hard to avoid frostbite.

He said:

At 5 AM, the plumbing was a mystery. I was standing there miserable and droopy, like a dog in a too-cold bath, while she was perfectly happy. It took awhile to realize the Palace actually does have hot water . . .

The TV

She said:

The technology is always jinky. (Why do we really expect any different? It must be the eternal optimism in our souls.) It always takes my techy toy awhile to get it working. Remember, he hasn’t used a modern television since 2001, and Dolly herself lived without a TV for 23 years.

He said:

On our first visit, the screen had an all-over purple cast left over from the previous occupants. We couldn’t watch regular TV, and all we had to test was the DVD The Grand Budapest Hotel. Because it’s an artsy movie, we weren’t sure if the hue was part of the movie or not. Dolly tried to convince me to just watch the movie. I wanted to scientifically test and overcome it. Come to find out, somebody had put the TV on a niche setting.

She said:

It’s always a little scary—what if he doesn’t get if fixed? Whatever would we do for 46 hours all by ourselves in our Pleasure Palace, with no technology and only a bed and a sofa with which to amuse ourselves? But fortunately, we are saved from such ennui, as MFT’s focused personality will not let him rest until his goal is achieved. The menu for our movie flashes on the screen. All’s right with the world.  

Mosquitos

He said:

For our September visit, I had recently broken my ankle. It was very painful and hard to manage or move around. Because of the time of year, there were mosquitos everywhere. I knew my wife is very afraid of bugs, particularly mosquitos, but seeing it in person was something else. My natural hero-protector came out. I couldn’t just lean on my 4-F status.[2] I had to stand up on that foot and protect my wife from those blood-sucking, virus-carrying invaders. I spent a lot of time stomping around on my bad ankle squashing mosquitos.

It took energy, skill, and consistency to outwit them. Constantly moving from room to room to catch them. Scoping out their hiding spots. I wouldn’t hesitate to use my hand. I discovered they like the ceiling, so I put a cloth on the end of my cane to cover the grooves and used it to get the ones up there. I left the light on over the stove, and every time I had to get up for count, I’d go kill all the newest groupies. I estimate in one night I protected my dolly’s flesh from about 35 to 40 of those blood-suckers. My ankle was throbbing and I suffered for it afterwards. That is the meaning of true grit—and it was well-rewarded.

The Steward

She said:

Fortunately for Dolly, she has a live-in steward at the Persian Pleasure Palace. Before she arrives in her chauffeur-driven bus, MFT is busy rushing around scouring and sweeping and sanitizing to ensure everything passes Dolly’s white-glove test. MFT storms the unit and secures a beachhead for his Dolly. He’s bravely faced it all on his own so she doesn’t have to: the sour-smelling kitchen sink, greasy “clean” dishes, a crime scene in the fridge requiring complete removal of every shelf and drawer, obvious male usage of the toilet, and built-up grunge that should have been erased long ago.

Not only that, but he cooks and washes dishes too! He cooks, he cleans, he rubs my feet! This last visit, Dolly literally did not have to lift even her littlest pinky finger to do anything in the kitchen. She sat with her feet up while her man-servant brought her the most delectable meals. Now that’s luxury! It sure feels like I’ve won the Husband Lottery. At least for 46 hours every 4 months.

Leaving

He said:

Leaving is one of the saddest things. When we possibly can, we try to get up to start our last morning at 3 AM, the last count, to have from 3-8 AM together. But if Dolly has an early flight, we’ll start at 5 AM. We try to pack before we go to bed, so we can focus on each other more in the morning. It’s sad and bittersweet to have that last time together.

Now the countdown is on. We’re not fully relaxed anymore. We have to be ready ahead of time, and we still need to eat, clean up, and finish packing. Fortunately, they’ll call with a head’s up.

After I load her into the van, I stand there waving and making a heart until I don’t see her anymore.

I try to show a brave face both for her and my own emotional balance. It’s very hard on me to see her go and lose what we have here and go back into the dungeon. The last few visits, I’ve gotten so emotionally sick I vomit and am unable to eat.

Alone, I have things to do which includes drinking a lot of water so I can pee for the mandatory drug test required of every returning family visit inmate. Because I have a shy bladder, this requires chugging liquid and holding it.

After all the clean-up is done and I’m packed, I spend my last remaining time reflecting on what I had with her, decompressing, listening to music, spot cleaning, and relaxing.

I wait to go back.

[1]She said:  I have no memory of this, but I stand by my subconscious choices.

[2] Draft deferment due to an injury.