Twenty

Her visit was scheduled for 9:00 a.m., and at five past, her purse freshly searched, she was escorted into a conjugal visit trailer. It was a little two-wheeled tin box such as senior citizen tourists pulled on the back of their cars to national parks. This one, however, had come to rest on a gravel strip in the heart of the walled prison complex. The only wide-open space was the sky above.

The interior was clean, the sheet over the thin mattress neatly folded; a NO SMOKING sign stared down from every wall. Yet the air inside the trailer was stale, and chill enough for Barbara to see her breath. Their visit was the first scheduled for that day and the bottle-gas heater had just been turned on. She did not remove her coat.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her watch. Conjugal visits were allotted fifty minutes, of which seven had already slipped away.

A crunch of footsteps outside. The door squeaked on its hinges. Bent over, ducking for the aluminum lintel, he entered.

Barbara stood and they embraced—“Oh my poor dear,” “Hi Raba”—then there was silence and they sat side by side on the edge of the bed.

“This is hardly our caboose by the lake, is it?” he said.

“No.”

“Maybe you’d be more comfortable here? The mattress is less sloping where I’m sitting.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Really? It would just take a second.”

“This is good, believe me.”

“But Barbara—”

“No, Jerry. Stop it.”

There was another silence.

“I’ve waited so long for this that now it doesn’t seem real,” he said, looking at her, both laughing and sniffling a little.

“It is though, dear.”

Her first impression of him after six months apart was to find him pale and unusually severe in appearance, probably due to his short haircut, and on second glance he seemed softer around the cheeks than she’d remembered him, definitely older, despite his striped uniform which, though surprising to see, looked simply childish.

“Those are quite the pajamas,” she told him, tugging on one of his sleeves.

Mr Nice Guy rubbed his knees, and sneezed. “I know. Nobody here likes them. On some of the larger fellows they’re especially unflattering.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she lied, “You’re looking great, honey. Great. Honestly.”

He clasped his hands in front of him for a moment, then slid an arm around her, pulled closer.

“It is cold in here, isn’t it?” she said, trying to laugh.

Now sitting very close, they spoke softly. They remarked on the interior of the trailer, the framed reproduction above the headboard of a small deer in a sylvan setting drinking out of a stream. They discussed the condition of Mrs Renfrow, whom Barbara had recently visited. “She sends her love,” Barbara told him. Mr Nice Guy nodded slowly.

“Barbara”—he threw both arms around her—“I brought mine.” When he started kissing her, she began to cry.

“Oh don’t, don’t,” said Mr Nice Guy. “Please.”

They soon discovered that there were no tissues in the trailer, so they pulled apart and Barbara dug in her purse and eventually found one which they shared. After they regained their composure, they spoke more easily. She told him that it was now official, Home-Made Services had been declared bankrupt, so that ought to simplify some of their legal problems.

“I’ve almost finished the letters of apology,” Mr Nice Guy told her. “Only 16 to go.”

During their time in the conjugal visit trailer they did not move much. They just sat clinging to each other closely, occasionally kissing, often rubbing their cheeks together. This they did during pauses in the conversation, an altogether satisfactory substitute for words. “We’ll get there,” he murmured, “we’re going to have our day at the Billy Hare.”

“Of course,” she said, not sure if he really believed it.

Suddenly there was a bang on the tin wall, and they jumped.

“Five minutes,” a voice called.

Softly they repeated to each other several times that they loved each other, still clinging tight, till there was another bang on the wall. A guard poked his head in.

“Mrs Renfrow first,” he said.

They embraced one last time, both thinking: the next visit will be in three months.

“Be strong,” she whispered.

“You too,” he said.

When she followed the guard, they met another guard waiting beside the trailer with a change of sheets in his arms. She lowered her gaze, eager to get away from this place.