I stepped to the side of the line while she waved the metal detecting wand across my body. It chirped a few times as she passed it over my shoulders and chest. She patted both sides with the back of her hand and, once satisfied I wasn’t trying to smuggle in a phone or weapon, ushered me into the visiting area lined with crumbling walls and rows of old vending machines.
I made my way over to a cold orange plastic chair like one you’d see in an elementary school cafeteria, as far from the other visitors as I could, and rested my forehead in my hands, second-guessing my decision to come at all. Actions spoke louder than words, didn’t they? And I should have known everything I needed to know based on his very, very, verrrrrry long list of criminal charges. But, what was still missing for me was the why. Why had he done it? How far back did his misdeeds go? How long had I been blind to his lies? And was any of what we had together even real? Those were the questions that kept me up at night, haunting me like a veiled apparition. They were the questions that forced me to come.
In the far corner of the room, there was a small wilting Christmas tree left over from the holidays. It still had a few handfuls of glittery tinsel sprinkled over the top of it and was sitting underneath a wall of ornate service plaques commemorating honorable service to the prison over the years. I scanned the images, coming to an abrupt halt on the third one from the left.
I walked over to get a closer look, and there staring down at me was the guard who directed me to the phone booth on Christmas Day. Same finger-waved hair. Same round-faced grin, and the name Mabel Jacobs and the years 1908–1969 etched below her photograph. No, that couldn’t be. Mabel Jacobs had been dead for more than fifty years, but the guard I spoke to that day was very much alive—and apparently dispensing terrible advice to strangers. Maybe they just shared an uncanny resemblance to one another? Or were they possibly related?
As much as I tried to put the odd coincidence out of my mind, my thoughts kept returning to Mabel and the last phone booth. The strange directions she offered that took me to Gabe and not a taxi stand. The fact that the guard had disappeared when I went back to find her. None of it made any sense, and my wheels were spinning out of control. Before I knew it, almost an hour later and still lost in thought, a sharp poke to my right shoulder startled me back to the moment. “Hey, you Avery Lawrence?” a guard barked.
I glanced at the clock, noticing how long I’d been waiting, and sprang upright. “Yes, I’m she . . . her. I’m Avery Lawrence.”
“Follow me,” he ordered.
I trailed the guard down a dark hallway with weak fluorescent lights overhead that flickered as we walked. It was cold and damp, and I clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering.
“Who are you here to see?” the guard asked.
“Adam Daulton, I mean Adam McDaniels,” I answered, still not used to saying his real name.
“Real Scrooge, that one. My aunt Belle lost about 10K out of her retirement savings in one of his telemarketing schemes, greedy bastard,” he said and directed me to a table with thick plexiglass partitions. I spotted Adam, who looked small and spindly next to the hulking security guard whose uniform hugged him so tightly in the middle that the buttons seemed to be holding on for dear life.
The orange of Adam’s jumpsuit stood out against the whiteness of the walls and the light blue of the officer’s uniform, like something that didn’t belong, didn’t quite fit into the landscape. Adam kept his head lowered as he approached, and I wasn’t even sure if he knew it was me who was here to visit. On impulse, I lurched forward to go to him, but then reason and the thick plastic that separated us kept me rooted in place. He sat down, the partition firmly between our chairs, and took the moment of silence as an invitation to speak. “Avery, you look so beautiful.”
That was certainly not the first thing I thought he’d say. It was a punch to the gut, and my stomach twisted with its force. My eyes lifted to his, tears pooling at the rims and threatening to fall. The tightness in my chest was a boa constrictor around my lungs hoping to squeeze out all signs of life.
Adam looked almost swallowed whole by the state-issued jumpsuit, a far departure from his custom-tailored Tom Ford suits. I was so used to his calm, cool, and in-control demeanor that seeing him like this completely threw me for a loop. It felt like an eternity before I finally found my voice. “Who even are you? What’s your name? Your real name?”
It was Adam’s turn to fall silent and lower his eyes. Thick waves of shame radiated off him, and all he could do was shake his head. “Please, Avery, listen to me. This has all been a misunderstanding. I swear to God, I didn’t do what they’re saying I did. I can show you, if I could just get in touch with—”
“Stop lying, Adam McDaniels, or whoever the hell you’re choosing to be today.” My trembling voice came out louder than expected. “I know about the innocent and vulnerable people you defrauded. And now I know I was one of them. One of the hundreds of people you duped with your smooth words and charming smile.”
I slammed the back of my left hand against the glass, the ring clinking as it hit. “I had this appraised. And do you know what they told me?” I stared him down, the force of my words concealing the warble of hurt and devastation at the sheer depth of his deceptions. “I have a feeling you do?” He lifted his face to look at me, and my insides turned cold. I’d been ready to collapse under the weight of his remorse, but having him sit there and attempt to lie made me acutely aware of how comfortable he’d become with the entire practice. Like it was second nature.
He sat up straighter and leaned forward, his eyes, his posture, and his long face begging for compassion. “Avery, please, you have to understand, that stone was a placeholder. The baguettes are real, the band is real, but the diamond . . .” He went to muss his hair and seemed surprised when the other hand came up too, bound together by the weighty handcuffs. “The diamond had been real. I had one picked out and everything. And at the last minute, I . . . I needed the capital to fund . . . well, to help continue the business. But I swear, I had every intention of replacing the stone with the diamond I’d first chosen just as soon as the new venture was off the ground and on its feet. You have to believe me,” Adam pleaded, his face moving so close to the partition that with every iteration, his breath fogged up the plexiglass a bit more.
“Do I, Adam? Do I have to believe you? How could I? It’s not about the diamond or the ring. I don’t care about any of that. It’s about what that ring represented. But no, every single thing you’ve ever said to me has been a lie or a version of the truth, always more gray than black-and-white. I just don’t understand how I could have been so wrong. Don’t you see? I chose you. Instead of . . .”