“Oh, heavens no!” she replies with a chuckle. “It was so long ago that the log books for that time have already been sent down to storage, otherwise I’d look it up for you. The only reason I remember is because we keep reports on which inmates receive the largest or the least number of personal visits, and every month for eighteen years, Mr. Duskin is always at the bottom of the list with just that one visitor in all this time.”
She moves away from the counter, busying herself with getting our visitor badges in between answering the phone when it rings. After a few minutes, she hands us the badges and quickly runs down the list of rules we’ll need to follow when they call us, such as remaining only in the designated visiting area, no talk of the prisoner’s treatment or questions about his daily habits in the facility, no conversations that will anger or upset the prisoner in any way, and when our thirty minutes are up, we must end our visit immediately without any trouble or we will never be permitted back.
I’m sure we’ll have no trouble following the rules, but even if we can’t, it’s not like I plan on coming back here to visit Tobias again anyway.
Nolan and I pin the visitor badges to our clothing and then take a seat in the hard plastic chairs pushed against the wall until our names are called.
“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Nolan asks softly as we watch a few more people enter the building and go up to the counter to check in.
“I guess I’ll just get right to the point and ask him if he knows he’s my father,” I reply. “That’s the only question I care about getting an answer to right now.”
If I had more than thirty minutes with him and if Nolan wasn’t here with me, I might ask him why he killed his parents and a handful of strangers. I’d ask him if he thought about it beforehand, dreamed about it, craved it, and it just became too much, and he had to do it before the thoughts in his head drove him crazy. Basically, I’d ask him if that was something I had to look forward to, since we share the same bloodline.
“Visitors for Duskin?”
Nolan and I stand up from the chairs when a guard holding a clipboard announces our name. We follow him through a door leading away from the waiting area and down a long hallway, stopping in another small room. We’re asked to remove any items we might have in our pockets so they can be inspected. Nolan removes his wallet and keys, placing them on the table, and we wait while another guard quickly checks them over, passing Nolan’s wallet back to him and informing him he can pick up his keys after the visit.
Moving out of the room, we continue on down the hallway, coming to a closed door. The guard unlocks it and then holds it open for us. In the middle of the stark white room is a long wooden counter that runs from wall to wall. There are booths separated by wooden walls attached to the counter, two metal chairs inside each booth and a glass partition running right down the middle.
“Duskin will be in booth number eight, right down there,” the guard tells us, pointing to the booth at the very end that has a sign taped to the inside wall with the number eight written on it. “When he is escorted to the booth, you can pick up the phone on your side of the counter to communicate, and he’ll do the same on his side. You will have exactly thirty minutes from the time he sits down.”
Without another word, he turns and exits the room. I walk slowly toward booth eight, glancing at the booths we pass, all currently occupied by other people visiting prisoners, the low hum of conversation filling the room. Nolan pulls out a chair for me and I take a seat, clasping my hands together in front of me on the counter, staring at the empty chair on the other side of the glass.
Nolan wisely keeps his mouth shut while we wait, and I tap my foot against the floor under the counter in nervous excitement that I can’t even explain. I’m here to confirm whether or not my parents lied to me my entire life about who my father really is, and excitement probably isn’t the most appropriate feeling to have right now, but I can’t help it. What little I know about Tobias Duskin already fascinates me, and I’m anxious to find out more.
A door on the other side of the partition suddenly opens, and my eyes greedily take in the man in shackles being led to his chair across from me.
“Oh my God,” Nolan whispers as the guard helps Tobias sit down in his chair, saying a few words to him that we can’t hear because of the glass and then exiting back through the door, leaving us alone for our visit.
Oh my God is right. Looking at this man across from me is like looking at a more hardened version of my father. They look so much alike they could pass for twins. I watch in silence as he stares right at me, our eyes the exact same shade of green. My mother has the same color eyes as I do, so it’s not really proof he’s my father, but something in his eyes calls to me. I can’t look away, and the glass that separates us angers me. I want to reach across the counter and touch him, grab ahold of the energy and excitement that radiates out of his stare and pull it inside of me.