Can I
Should I
Will I
Dare I
What if I’ve changed my mind?
~ Hannah Gunner ~
Walking down the school halls should have felt familiar, but suddenly it seemed foreign to Hannah. Yes, she had been in and out of school due to her mother’s illness and sudden death, but she’d been at this high school for a while now. Suddenly she felt as if every eye was upon her; the thought that everyone knew her dad was a criminal, an inmate in prison, and people were staring at her, consumed her. It didn’t help that she was called out of class during the quietest time possible to visit with the counselor for no apparent reason at all.
“We’re aware of your loss and wanted you to know if there’s anything you’d like to talk about or anything that you need, we’re here for you.”
Hannah sat opposite the woman who had barely spoken to her before and who had never been there for her a day in her life until this mandatory meeting and stared at her, speechless. What was she supposed to say to that? Thanks for being there for me. I’d like an A in chemistry because it sucks that I can’t focus right now? The woman persisted.
“Well, are you doing okay?”
What kind of question was that, really? Hannah wondered. How was she really supposed to answer that? Surely the woman didn’t think that she was doing okay in any way, shape, or form.
“I’m good. Thanks,” Hannah responded.
Every single thing about Hannah’s body language screamed, please, just let me out of here!
“Okay, then. Well, let me know if I can help.”
“Right. Thanks.”
Grateful that Lindsey was by her side for most of her day, and Cash sent constant Snaps and messages, they made going back to school bearable. Every now and then she even managed to see Cash during passing period and that, without a doubt, was the highlight of her school day.
Hannah had submitted the visitation application and then purposely shoved it out of her mind. They were living mostly at Kathy’s house, but were still packing and had miscellaneous items still at the apartment. Hannah stopped by the apartment every day after school to check the mail and pack another box. Her heart sank every time she walked through the front door. All of the rooms looked desolate and strange. Scattered boxes, some half-filled, had been left around the apartment. There didn’t seem to be any organization to their move; not like when Gloria had packed up a house, organized, planned, proficient, and easy to recognize what went where when you unpacked. Hannah threw the mail down in the center of the living room floor and walked to Gloria’s bedroom. It looked and felt strange. No furniture. Boxes. Empty closet. She sat down in the center of her mom’s room. It was almost cleared out. Nearly everything donated. Some items, precious only to Hannah and Kathy, had been saved and packed for the move.
A box spilling over with a burgundy garment in the corner of the room caught Hannah’s eye. Immediately she ran to the box, opened it up, and pulled out Gloria’s oversized, worn-out cardigan. Holding it next to her face, smelling the scent of her mom, the grief and loss she felt came rushing back. Emotions she thought she had already dealt with surfaced again. Sobs, the deepest heart-wrenching sobs, echoed through the empty apartment. Falling to her knees, face buried in the cardigan, Hannah rocked back and forth on her knees and let her tears fall. Wailing and barely being able to catch her breath, Hannah’s sobs continued until she felt a hand touch her on her shoulder. The subtle touch turned into a pair of arms wrapping around her, right there on the empty apartment room floor, as her aunt Kathy held her close to her chest and cried as silently as she could. Hannah gripped the cardigan for dear life. Exhausted, the tears finally stopped. Unable to breathe through her nose, still sniffling, and eyes puffy, Hannah stood up. Still gripping the cardigan, she reached out her hand to help Kathy to her feet.
“Let’s go home,” Kathy suggested.
Hannah nodded.
She walked out with the cardigan and never once looked at the mail she’d retrieved that day. A hot shower, a bowl of soup, and a text from Cash seemed to fix everything. Plopping down on the couch, Hannah reached for the remote.
“Anything you want to watch?” Hannah asked as she flipped through the channels.
Kathy shook her head. “No. But I picked the mail up from the apartment that you’d grabbed today, and you have a letter.”
Hannah’s head whipped around.
“From Folsom State Prison.” Kathy placed the letter on the coffee table in front of Hannah. “Open it.”
Hannah’s heart suddenly started pounding, beating so hard that she could count each beat. Her palms were beginning to sweat, and she noticed that her hands were shaking. Holding them out, she showed her aunt.
“Oh my God! Look at my hands; I’m shaking!”
Kathy jumped up and sat down next to her on the couch.
“Do you want to wait until Cash and Lindsey are here? You can open it tomorrow if you like.”
Staring at the letter, Hannah knew what she had to do. Open it. After all, it was just an approval or denial; it wasn’t like it was from Hank, her dad. Slowly she reached for the letter. Hannah Gunner was the addressee. Carefully she opened the seal, trying hard not to rip the entire envelope. One by one, she began to unfold the papers.
“Well, what does it say?” Kathy asked.
Hannah read the letter and reread it again to be sure it said what she thought it did.
“Hannah!”
“It says I’ve been approved.”
“And?”
Hannah stared at the paper that she held in her shaking hands.
“Hannah, you’re killing me here! And?”
“He says he’ll see me.”
As if in shock, Hannah repeated the words.
“Hank, I guess my dad, says he’ll see me.”