Chapter Text
For the longest time, Dot only existed by murdering Nadine.
It was a choice. She came to be through that act of violence, cutting Nadine down and standing on top of her broken body. Dot was born looking down on it with a detached sort of pity, shedding herself of the grief and rage that had inhabited the skin she was leaving behind. It was a trail of ashes left in the past, one she had set fire to in order to be able to build on the razed foundations.
There wasn’t a space on Nadine that didn’t carry echo of Roy’s hands on her. And Dorothy had left that beast behind to rage in its castle. She refused to carry its marks on her new chance, refused to so much as think of their stain, lest they summon the demon that would drag her back into that small cage.
Nadine had to disappear, and for that she had to die. Not by Roy’s hands, but by her own. Not a suicide, but an escape, nonetheless.
The new name had been simple. She’d known, after all, what she was after: A home. A real home, with real love, a happy-ever-after that she was all too happy to make-believe into reality, whatever it took. And it took plenty. Every ounce of her brain and her courage, every bit of her carefully guarded heart had to be put on the effort. So, Dorothy it was.
Nadine, the real one, had died in that ranch long before the moment Dorothy buried her, anyway. It was as easy as breathing to not look back at the remains she put to rest.
Lying and obfuscating was simple, for Dorothy. Stealing her way into survival was old-hand. Over time, other things, less terrible things such as smiling, became easier. But it wasn’t until Wayne that she began to mean it. His softness, his care, his unending goofy kindness were disarming.
Wayne was a man in the ways Nadine – Dorothy – hadn’t known men could be. All the weaknesses that Dot would have liked to keep inside herself, she found inside of him. She learned to love him for them with a fierceness that had once belonged to a girl carving her own way on the streets, until that life had taken an abrupt turn.
Some other Nadine, in some other, softer, life might not have had the ragged edges needed to value what she and Wayne found, but this one clung with the knowledge of how precious it was. She had the bitter experiences to know the difference between finding a real safe harbour and one that was only a mirage of safety, and she wasn’t about to misstep with her trust again.
With Wayne, she was home. Not one where the beasts bided their time to tear her open, or one where the savior grew claws and hauled her out of the pan only to throw her into the fire. A real home, where warmth wasn’t a danger.
By the time Scotty came, Nadine had been a bad dream. Anything attached to that name had turned hazy and unacknowledged, left to rot in a box in her mind that she never intended to reopen. She’d made it out and the old skin wouldn’t fit her anyway.
It wasn’t until the after– when the house had settled back into silence and calm, after she’d laughed and cried and hugged her family close, while she still clung to Wayne in the dark of their bed – that Nadine’s ghost came to visit.
Not for Roy. God, no. Nadine would never stir from her grave and come alive for him. She wouldn’t rise up to the call of a monster, no matter how it came ravaging back into her domain to try and rip her life apart again.
No, Dot knew better. She knew what Nadine was there for. Who she was there for.
Dot had burst out of the castle, left the beast and the horrors behind to claw her way into a new, better fairytale, but she had done so by tearing her skin open to be reborn. Her new day came at a cost to escape the wolves after dark, forget the terror-fueled cowering and the struggle to breathe.
Her new story was one where her name was Dot and she had a man that knew what love was, one whose hands were sweet and whose voice was soft and filled with laughter. It hadn’t come for free. Dot had built it. She’d stolen and lied and fought for it, and would apologize for none of it, but she didn’t emerge unblemished on the other side of the rainbow.
She’d torn chunks off herself to make it through, was the thing. She left a bloody trail in her wake, and somewhere in the shadows of the past, where Nadine had lived, where she never let herself look, back there, and back then–
There’d been more than just horror and fear and pain and Roy. More than just Nadine, under his foot.
There’d been a Linda there too. One who had tried to teach her what a mother was meant to be, before leaving her own skin behind and covering Nadine with it, suffocating her to fill it. There’d been school lessons she’d never had before, there’d been patience and advice and new clothes made to fit her. There’d been meals she’d been taught how to cook with love, sunshine over the farm, stable routines. She’d had her very own room with her own bed before Roy had come and ripped her dreams apart on it.
And there’d been someone else there. Someone just as scared, and just as trapped, and just as small– smaller – who would sneak into her room in the dark, but not to grab and take and destroy. No, that presence had been different. It’d been made of lonely eyes and small, clumsy hands, skinny arms offering comfort and seeking it out in turns when the yelling was real bad or the hits too hard.
There’d been a brother there once. A little boy who was eager for company and quick to grin big and mischievous at her. He’d had big curious hazel eyes that followed her around, and a high unsure voice that tried so hard to mimic whatever his daddy said, until he’d be smacked into silence. But one who liked to let Nadine talk and listened just as close, tried just as hard to learn from her too.
There’d been a boy back there who had clumsily needed her in a way nobody had ever needed Nadine before, and nobody since. Not until Scotty came along long after Nadine was buried in ashes. The outline of that kid had been obliterated along with Nadine, Dot thought. She’d buried him too.
Nadine had shimmied out of that cage by chewing off her own skin to live as Dorothy. She’d run and she’d somehow made it out, but she hadn’t taken him along. There’d been no room for him. She wouldn’t apologize for what she’d had to do, but Nadine’s ghost came back regardless, stirred back to life by that need, that love, and those forgotten scraps of light Dot had killed along with the shadows.
“What are we making? Is it pancakes?” Scotty asked in the early morning, hair still a whirlwind of bedhead and racecar pajamas askew. Dot smiled at her, unable not to, and reached out a hand to beckon her close. Scotty was already moving in, big eyes following Dot’s hands as she cubed the butter, a warm weight of love against her side.
“Ooh, not this morning munchkin,” Dot sing-sang, smiling down at her daughter’s sleepy face. “Today we’re making a special treat,”
“Pancakes are special,” Scotty butted in with a half smile, but she leaned in to eye the ingredients Dot had set down on the table curiously. “Can I help?”
“You sure can,” Dot kept right on smiling. She set about pouring in the brown sugar next and turning to get the handmixer out of the cabinet. “Grab that big bowl for the dry ingredients baby, I’ll tell you which ones to mix.”
The process was simple. Dot hadn’t even had to re-read the recipe, imprinted as it was in her memory. Nadine’s memory. It should have felt harder than it was to recall how much flour and how much baking soda, how to fold in the oats and the raisins, but it wasn’t.
“What’re the cookies for?” Scotty asked from where she sat at the table, licking up the batter from the bowl while Dot cleaned up the counter. The tin was already in the oven, ready to ping in a few minutes.
“These are a very special gift,” Dot explained, turning to give Scotty a wide eyed look and imprint the seriousness of the matter with an exaggerated wink.
“For me?” Scotty teased, grinning. She had dough on her nose. Dot laughed and didn’t tell her about it as she went on to wash her bowls and utensils.
“I’ll say, you’re already eating half the batter as is,” Dot teased back, but her smile wasn’t as easy to sustain that morning as it usually was. She looked down instead, watching her hands under the sudsy water, blurry and shapeless like a mirage. Looking away from Scotty, from Wayne, it usually wasn’t as easy to smile.
“No,” Dot said, “these are for someone that needs a little love.” A lot of it, Nadine’s ghost insisted. Dot sighed. “We’re gonna go and meet someone today, baby. It’s a bit of a drive, for sure, but we’ll go after breakfast so we’re ready for it. I want you to meet him.”
“Is daddy coming with us?” Scotty inquired, back at her side as she handed over the used - and licked- bowl to wash.
“Not this time, kiddo. Daddy’s got that commercial to shoot today, remember? No, no, it’ll just be our little adventure.” Dot wriggled her eyebrows to make Scotty laugh. It worked.
“Who’re we meeting?” Scotty asked, tilting her head.
“His name is Gator.” Nadine’s voice said, stirred back up to life.
“Is he a reptile? Do they like cookies too?” Scotty blinked curiously and Dot had to stifle a laugh. She reached out to poke Scotty’s face with a sudsy hand, leaving a blob of foam behind that her daughter wrinkled her nose at.
“He is not. He’s a person.” Dot explained patiently, trying to find the right words. “Gator’s his name.”
“Is he nice?” Scotty inquired and Dot shook her head, unwilling to lie.
“No. But he was,” Dot said, blinking down at her empty hands, washed clean. She turned off the tap and shooed Scotty off to grab the oven mitts when the oven beeped. “Oh shoot, grab those would you? We don’t want these to burn.”
“Who is he? Gator?” Scotty insisted, watching Dot scramble to get the cookies out without burning herself or the cookies, only half succeeding. The scalding she got on her arm was mild, and Dot ignored it. It was simple, for her, such a small pain. “Why are we visiting?”
“He’s my little brother,” Nadine said, and she smiled. It was a hard smile, a long forgotten one. It was smaller than Dot’s, but it made Scotty smile back all the same. “Your uncle. He did some bad things. Terrible things. And he’s in jail now, because he has a debt to pay for it. But we’re visiting him, because he’s still family. And he deserves a good family that gives him a chance to do better. A place to belong, you see? He- he hasn’t had one of those before.”
“How come he hasn’t had one if he had you?” Scotty asked, because of course she asked. Her curious little smart cookie. There weren't any simple answers, but that was okay. Scotty was smart.
“He didn’t have me, for a long time,” Dot explained, but it was Nadine that crouched down to meet Scotty’s beautiful eyes. “It wasn’t really our choice to be apart. But now he does have me, because we’ve gotten our choice back, and I need him to know that. So I figure, what better way to let him know we care than to bring him his favorite cookies, huh?”
“That makes sense.” Scotty said, nodding wisely. Her bedhead was still a mess. Dot ruffled it some more and told her to go get ready for the day while she made them breakfast. But Scotty turned back at the foot of the stairs, head tilted curiously. “Mom? Can he pay?”
“What?” Dot asked, taken aback at Scotty’s more serious tone. “Pay what?”
“You said Gator had a debt,” Scotty explained, and Dot nodded, reading where this was going. “What if he can’t pay, like you said? Nana says debtors are prisoners. And you said that sometimes people can’t pay debts, remember? If - if they’re poor. Or there’s a death in the family. Can Gator pay?”
“He is,” Nadine answered. She remembered big hazel eyes hiding tears in the dark of her bedroom, a long time ago. Remembered him shaking against her chest, now trapped in a deeper dark, one he would never again escape. “He’s trying. But maybe we can help him with that, huh?”
“Nana has a lot of money,” Scotty offered and it was Dot that laughed.
“Not that way, baby,” She corrected softly, but her smile was bold. “We can help with cookies. And visits. And forgiveness.”
“Do you think he’ll be nice to us, if we’re helping?” Scotty asked, and it was Nadine that blinked the tears back and nodded. Awakening in a new skin, a thicker one, so much stronger. With so much to do still.
“Oh, I know he will be,” Nadine told Scotty, and promised that boy she remembered, the one waiting for her. “That’s why we’re going. To help him.”
“Will he like my animal book?” Scotty asked, already climbing back to her room, seriousness forgotten. “I can tell him about the other gators. The ones in Florida.”
“We can ask him ourselves,” Dot assured her, turning back to get the bisquick box, hands sure and steady on the familiar motions. “As long as you can get dressed before I have these pancakes on your plate, huh? Chop chop now, daylight’s burning!”
Scotty ran the rest of the way up to her room, and Dot listened to her steps, to her noise, to her existence with her smile and her love. Nadine’s ghost didn’t feel so cold and dead anymore, inside her new skin. Not half so battered.
“You came,” Gator said, when he was finally sitting down across from them at the table of the visitation room.
He looked rough. Pale and crumpled small, still wearing crisp bandages over the ruin where his eyes should have been. Unlike when Dot had last seen him, they were smaller now, more like patches and some edges of scarring peeked faintly around their edges. His shoulders were slumped in a way Dot had only seen when Roy was through with him or back when Linda’s calm, even voice had raised in cries that rang across the second floor of the ranch and drew him from his bed at night.
Dot smiled at him anyway, even though he couldn’t see it. She wanted him to know, to hear it in her voice, because she doubted anyone else was smiling at him in this place.
“Told ja I would, didn’t I?” Dot said and squeezed Scotty’s hand reassuringly. “I intend to keep that promise. Now, I have Scotty here with me so she could come meet you proper.”
Gator looked floored, and Dot’s smile hurt a little to hold up. But she did. She tried to imagine the way he’d be blinking at her in confusion if he could.
“You really brought your kid?” He asked, slow, like he thought she was joking. His fingers twitched where they were clutching the edge of the table. Dot wanted to reach out to hold his hand as well, but didn’t want to be warned off in front of Scotty by the stern correction officers staring at them from over Gator’s shoulder. A battle for another day, maybe.
“My name’s Scotty,” Scotty informed him primly, and Dot’s smile came easier then. “How come yours is Gator?”
Oh. Dot winced, watching Gator curl his arms to hug himself around the middle, so she tried to smooth it over.
“Now, Scotty–” She began, but Gator interrupted her after clearing his throat.
“My dad didn’t like me.” Gator said, voice strangely matter-of-fact and detached. The echo of Dot’s own cutting words to him made Nadine’s guilt stir in her chest, but she forcibly pushed it down. “How come you have a boy’s name?”
“My daddy’s weird,” Scotty answered, and Dot had to laugh. Gator just raised his eyebrows. “Mommy too, sometimes. I didn’t know you were her brother. I’d really like a brother too.”
“You told her that?” Gator asked, voice soft again. Baffled. Dot set her own shoulders back and owned up to it, wishing he could see her do it. She wanted to see Gator sit up straight and confident, in that cocky way he would meet challenges with sheer stubbornness to come off tough. It bothered her, how defeated he looked.
“Of course I told her. I don’t lie to my daughter, Gator. You’re family. She doesn’t have any other uncles, you know. Wayne’s a chronic only child.” She said, and watched him digest the words for a beat.
Around them, the visitation room was loud with the conversations from the other inmates and their families. Scotty kept sneaking curious glances around the groups, but Dot’s gaze felt glued to Gator’s hunched form, to the face he was obviously struggling to keep neutral.
“I’m sorry,” He finally said, and it was Dot’s turn to frown. Before she could answer, Scotty came to her rescue.
“That’s not your fault,” Scotty said with the straightforward simplicity Dot loved about her. “Nana told me she didn’t want more fuss.”
“Daddy is a little fussy,” Dot joked to make Scotty laugh, and she tried not to take it personally when Gator didn’t smile. “How are you doing here, Gator? Have your lawyers been giving you my messages? With the transfer, I wasn’t sure if you were cut off or– ‘cause you haven’t been calling me. You still remember my number, right? Is there anything you need here, like blankets or, or a toothbrush or something?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” Scotty observed.
Dot tried to reign herself in, because Gator hadn’t answered any of them. His expression didn’t give anything away. She wished she could see more of his face under those bandages, and then wished she couldn’t in the same guilty breath.
“They did,” Gator eventually said. His head was turned down, facing the table. It didn’t make a difference, Dot knew, he couldn’t actually see them sitting there. But the way he avoided raising his head bothered her. “The lawyers told me about the money in my account, for. For blankets and shit. You didn’t have to do that.”
“We live in Minnesota, Gator. Of course I had to.” Dot chided him, tapping the table to get his attention, to get him to tip his chin up. He didn’t. “And anyway, the money was all Lorraine. Scotty’s grandmother, you know, the lady that helped me arrange your transfer from North Dakota. I don’t want you to worry about things like that, alright? Buy the stuff you need, it’s what it’s there for.”
“I think there’s a canteen,” Gator told them. Dot had to lean forward to hear him, his low voice almost lost among the bustle and laughter from the tables around them. “I don’t really know where it is.”
“So ask the guards to take you,” Dot demanded, trying to smile at Scotty when she looked at her in confusion at her sharp tone. “Are they treating you alright? Lorraine said you’d have protection, accommodation. Do you?”
“Sure,” Gator said, but it dawned on Dot that he didn’t have a cane. He’d been led into the room by a guard and pushed in without ceremony to find his way to their table, and he didn’t have any sunglasses to cover his bandages with. “Nobody’s been– it’s fine. I have two roommates now.”
“Are they nice?” Scotty asked earnestly, and Dot would have asked the same. Gator’s face didn’t move when he shrugged, then nodded. Dot was going to have to call Lorraine after this.
“There’s lots of buildings in this place,” Gator said, and Dot tried to imagine what it would be like for him. How he would have to navigate around an unfamiliar facility, fresh off the transfer from North Dakota’s system. The lack of a cane niggled at her. “They have like- courts. Books. Classes and shi– stuff. It’s not bad.”
Gator had played football in high school, Dot remembered. Homeschooled though he’d been at the time, Roy had gotten him signed up with the school district to play football and join track by the time she’d gotten away, one of the only concessions to normality she remembered on Gator’s weekly schedule. He’d never been big on reading, too hyper and set on being better at numbers, just like his father.
Even if he wanted to read now, or if he wanted to be outside, active on the courts–
“Do you like animals?” Scotty interrupted Dot’s train of thought again, before she could spiral into another useless barrage of questions. “My favorite book is about animals. I brought it with me, but the guards said I shouldn’t bring it inside. Did you know some alligators can hold their breaths for a whole day?”
“Can’t say I did,” Gator said, and this time he raised his head in their direction. Dot squeezed Scotty’s hand again and found it easier to smile again. Scotty always made it easier. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Why’d you come to hurt us on Halloween?” Scotty asked next and Dot froze. Gator did too. “You called mom by the wrong name.”
“Yeah,” Gator said, voice going hoarse. Scotty was squeezing Dot’s hand back now, and Dot kissed her fingers. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, kid. That was- what I did was wrong, I know that now. I made a dumb decision. I’m not real bright, you know? Dad– yeah. I make a lot of those, you see.”
“Her name’s Dot,” Scotty went on with a frown. “Not the other name. Were you really mad at her? Is that why?”
“Someone else was,” Gator said carefully. Dot watched him turn his head in Scotty’s direction, his mouth pull down into a tight grimace. His voice was getting shaky, choked-up. Dot had to look at the guards to remember why she couldn’t go around the table to hug him and offer some physical reassurance. Shake him some. Let him feel she was there. “He told me to go get ya, and I listened. I shouldn’t have. I’ll never do that again, kid, you don’t gotta worry.”
“‘Cause mommy shot at you?” Scotty asked and Gator did smile then. It was still shaky. So was Dot’s own grin.
“Nah, I had that one coming.” Gator said ruefully. Then he shifted, and finally straightened up some on the chair, maybe trying to look reassuring. “I won’t be listening to that man again, I promise. Your mom can shoot me all she likes if I ever do.”
“Ooh, her mom will,” Dot warned, and Gator’s grin firmed up in response. “The man that told Gator to do that was a bad man, baby. He’s gone now, you don’t have to worry about that no more.”
“Listening to bad men is dumb,” Scotty told them seriously and Gator nodded, turning away from them. Dot finally gave in to the impulse and leaned across the table to grab his hands, glaring down the guard that took a step to stop her over Gator’s shoulder.
“It’s a good thing we can learn from our mistakes then, isn’t it?” She asked brightly, and squeezed his fingers. Gator startled at the touch but immediately leaned into it, toward them. The guard behind him was taking another step. Dot let go with difficulty, and he stopped approaching. Gator wilted when she did. “We can make better choices that way. Learn and grow.”
“Sure. Eventually," he said morosely. Scotty nodded sagely. Dot wished Gator could see her do it. “Thanks for coming, Na- Dot.”
“We’re coming next week too. And every week after that, so better get used to it.” Dot informed him, having already told Wayne about her plans. He would come sometimes too, he’d said, when they came on a weekend.
“You don’t gotta,” Gator said, frown back in place. “You have your own life. I don’t expect–”
“We made you cookies,” Scotty said, and Gator gaped at them. It was pretty funny. “The man at the door said you can get them later if you’re good. Do you like pancakes?”
“He sure does,” Dot answered for him when it seemed Gator wouldn’t, and cleared her throat pointedly to remind him to close his mouth. “You still like them with chocolate chips, Gator?”
“Uh-huh,” he said slowly. His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but didn’t. “And maple syrup.”
“Duh,” Scotty said, because she was a sugar fiend and regularly drowned her own in the stuff. “I like the blueberry ones. Mommy likes–”
“The plain ones. I remember,” Gator said. Dot felt a burst of warmth in her chest she didn’t think she could feel anymore, from somewhere under the skin she’d once shed. “She is a weird one, you’re right about that.”
“Takes one to know one,” Dot said playfully, poking Scotty in the nose. “Or two, as it were.”
“Did you really bake me cookies?” Gator asked, disbelieving. Dot smiled, and if it was a touch sad, well. Gator couldn’t see it.
“Oatmeal raisin,” She promised, wishing they’d just let her bring them in with her. “Just the way you like ‘em. Now, Gator, why haven’t you been calling? Lorraine has to keep sending Indira to update me about you and it’s driving her batty. And believe you me, we don’t want that lady madder than she has to be.”
“Indira is nice.” Scotty cut in, because Indira was her favorite person outside the family since she’d given them all of Lars’ old gaming consoles. There’d been so many of them, Wayne had had to sell a few just to make sure they’d have space, and Scotty wouldn’t be spending the rest of her life in her room. “But I don’t think she likes talking about you.”
“Not many people do,” Gator answered drily, and Dot grimaced. The visitor’s log for Gator in this place only had her and Scotty as approved visitations. She’d have to get Gator to add Wayne as well soon.
“She’ll come around,” Dot insisted before the doom and gloom could send him slumping down small again. Gator didn’t look convinced, but said nothing. “C’mon, tell me. What’s with the radio silence, huh? You been too busy to let me know how you’re getting along?”
“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” Gator finally answered, fingers twitching on the table. His cast had been replaced with a fresh one, blue as well. His favorite color, Nadine had known once. “Or that I- uh. That it’d matter if I did.”
“Of course it matters.” Dot said. Frowning when Gator shrugged, she doubled down and tapped the table again to make him look up again. “Of course it matters, Gator, I don’t want you thinking you’re alone here. You’re not. I need to know you’re getting by, that you’re not in trouble.”
“I don’t think I can afford to be more in trouble,” Gator joked, and Dot was glad his tone wasn’t glum about it, even if she wished the humor was less self-deprecating. “It’s- it’s pretty boring, Dot. I don’t do anything. It’s just the legal shit, when the lawyers come by.”
“Then I want to know about that,” Dot insisted, because this was important. He needed to know there was a life outside these walls, outside the dark he was stuck in. “I want to know all the boring nothings you want to tell me. Then Scotty can tell you about her books and I can tell you all about which PTA moms I fought with that week.”
“They’re all afraid of mom.” Scotty told Gator. This time, he laughed. It made Dot hug Scotty close to her side in thanks, for being here. For making things easy for her.
“But we can try to get you some stuff to do. I’ll get you some audiobooks, how about?” Dot proposed, adding it to her mental list. “I’m sure they have some, I’ll ask around. We can’t have your brain completely shriveling up, can we?”
“I don’t think brains really do that,” Scotty reassured Gator. She hated people thinking wrong science facts.
“Mine just might,” Gator joked, with a vague gesture to the side of his head. “I told you, I’m real dumb, so. Just hot air in here, mostly.”
“That’s not how brains work either,” Scotty shook her head, and this time it was her that reached out to pat Gator’s casted hand and made him and Dot both startle. The guard behind Gator was twitching, but Dot’s burning glare held him back. “It’s not nice to call people dumb. Not even yourself.”
“Ah,” Gator said, and nodded. Dot thought he couldn’t really speak, so she did instead.
“So now you know you were just being silly, huh? Do you have my number memorized?” Gator nodded again, mechanically. “I’ll expect that call. Don’t make me bring you cookies without any raisins next time.”
“Daddy likes snickerdoodles. They’re boring,” Scotty put in, pulling back from Gator to lean into Dot’s side.
Gator’s fingers went back to gripping the edge of the table, like he was holding on. Or holding back. Dot couldn’t take it anymore and stood, moving to his side of the table and hugging him tight where he sat, for the forty seconds it took the burly correction officer to ask her to step back.
She did, and gestured to Scotty to take her hand so they could get ready to drive back home. Gator just sat there, frozen, listening to them leave. It took real effort for Dot to hold back the urge to reach out again and mess up his hair some.
“We’ll be back next week, Gator.” She promised, and Gator nodded, then tried to smile at them. The bandages around his eyes were damp, and so were the edges of Dot’s cheerful grin. Scotty just waved, then said bye aloud when she realized Gator couldn’t see her. “Chin up, kid. You’ve got those cookies to get to.”
“Thank you,” he called to their backs as they walked away. Dot looked back to see him standing, swaying a bit in place, head trying to turn to where he thought they were. It was a bit off to the left, but close enough. The correctional officer already had a hand on his shoulders to lead him away. “Dorothy. Thank you.”
“Get used to it,” She called back, and watched him being led back for a second before smiling down at Scotty as the loud door security mechanism went off behind her. “Now, what do you say we go and surprise Daddy at work, huh squirt?”
“Are you sure about this, Dot?” Wayne asked her, and it was fair. It was more than fair, that he didn’t understand, but that he wanted to. That he wouldn’t stop her, even if he didn’t.
God, she loved him. She hadn’t known this kind of love before him.
“I’m sure,” She said, and it was easy to smile. With him, it always was to even mean it.
Lorraine had already gone over this with her. And Indira. At great length.
With them, Dot had used logic and reasonable arguments about the importance of Gator’s role in Roy’s upcoming trial, about how his complicity and guilt didn’t come near his value as a first-hand witness of Roy’s atrocities. She’d taken words from the federal agents that had discussed it all with her and from the long discussions with the lawyers Lorraine had secured.
She’d explained to both women that, if nothing else, it mattered to her that Gator didn’t get buried in the same pit as his father. Not again, not after she’d already buried him once, back when he hadn’t yet deserved to be left behind. Even if he deserved it now, Dot owed him. She owed him at least a chance to escape the muck he’d been born into if he was willing to work for it.
With Wayne, none of that hard logic was necessary. Not when it was just the two of them.
“I mean, he was neck-deep in it, honey,” Wayne tried.
Dot nodded, because it was true. She wasn’t blind, and Lorraine had certainly shown her every scrap of evidence against Gator to test her determination to follow through. It hadn’t swayed her. Nadine had been where Gator was now. There were things erased off her own record, debts she hadn’t had to pay, to get her to the person she’d become, that she’d made.
She’d suffered for it, certainly, but some would argue that not enough. Ten years of bliss against those dragging years of hell. If put in a balance, where would the ax fall? It wasn’t for her to decide, to say. It wasn’t for any of them.
“You know, back when I met him? I was fifteen,” She told Wayne, because she hadn’t told Wayne this tale before. And Wayne listened, because he always would have, and it hadn’t been for fear of him that Dot had never spoken of it before. “He was eleven or so, this short little nuisance whose mom still combed his hair for him so he wouldn’t get gel everywhere. And he thought having a sister was just the coolest thing. He wanted me to teach him how to steal. So I did.”
“To steal?” Wayne asked in bewilderment. Dot smiled. She knew Wayne had grown up rich and sheltered, and no manner of years in the real world on his own means would erase his privilege. He’d always had that safety at his back, and always would, of a mother, a family to catch him and shelter him when needed.
“Oh yeah,” Dot nodded, matter of fact. Her grin was fond. “All manner of things. Candies. Cookies. A stupid little prize dog at the county fair we couldn’t win because the game was so rigged and our arms were too skinny.” She paused, hesitated at the edge of that shadow, but then stepped through it, because the memory was altogether light, even with the darker edges. The kind of thing she’d made herself forget so she could bury it with the bad. “Gator got lashed proper for it later, when he got found out. ‘Cuz he was quick, you know, but I’d gotten caught too, once. I probably shouldn’t have been giving lessons at all, come to think of it. You know what he said to me, after?”
Wayne had already drawn her close, when her smile had faltered. His arms were warm around her, and his glasses crooked when he tilted his head in askance. “What?”
“We needta find a better hiding spot for your gift, he said.” She sniffled once, and then laughed about it when Wayne’s face went puzzled. “Squirt had already stolen it, you see, wrapped it and all, but it didn’t get found out with the rest. And instead of fessing up to Roy and get me belted right along with him, he goes, well, why ruin your present, you know? We went through all that trouble. He took the licks for it, so might as well.”
“I don’t– so he was a good thief?” Wayne asked, voice high and Dot sighed and kissed his nose, because she was glad, almost, that he couldn’t get it.
Wayne would never have to know what it was to live knowing the pain was the inevitable part and you had to carve out your little joys where you could find them. No right or wrongs, no other calling than necessity and survival, living under the shadow of someone else’s whim instead of out in the real world. Surviving under siege meant just clinging to the pieces of yourself you got to keep while the world did its damndest to carve them out of you.
“He was a good brother,” Dot said, and Wayne’s face softened in some shallow understanding of what she meant. He might not get the hows, the whys, but he understood love. More importantly, it was Dot’s love he knew best. “And he never got out of there, Wayne. I know you don’t know… everything. That I asked you not to read those files. But trust me. It was a dark, deep well, living in there. And getting away took- it took everything. His mom didn’t make it. I almost didn’t either. He was too scared to try.”
“Dot, I get that you love him,” Wayne said, because of course he knew that in her. “But, he’s- he’s not a good man.”
“He can be,” Dot assured him, because she didn’t have to be Nadine to know that. To believe it, because she’d seen glimpses before. Short and flickering, but there all the same. “He wants to be, and I think he deserves to try. And Wayne – “
Here she faltered. But Wayne’s attentive gaze on hers, his trust in her, made her continue. Dot put a hand on his cheek and sighed.
“Honey. People aren’t always good. Your mom isn’t good. Danish Graves wasn’t good. But they can still do good things. They get given chances and – and choices. They get the freedom to make decisions. Gator….” Dot paused, then shook her head. “Most people get to think for themselves, is all. They don’t have to be afraid to. He’s finally making those choices now, and I’m not gonna be the one that closes the latch down on him when he’s trying.”
“Alright,” Wayne sighed into her hair, already resigned to it before he’d even asked. “I trust ya, you know I do. I just don’t want you to be disappointed, you know? If he’s– if he’s not.”
“I’m a tough cookie,” Dot assured him, smiling into the kiss he gave her. “I can take him.”
“Oh, we all know that by now,” Wayne teased, but nudged her back to turn just a little more serious. “So… you got big plans for that spare room, don’tcha?”
“It’s gonna be blue,” She told him calmly with a nod. “We got plenty of time to furnish it. We gotta make some changes here and there to make it just right, but what do ya know? Since, we’re doing all this reno right now and all!”
“What a coincidence,” Wayne agreed drily, but kissed her forehead fondly. “I’ll call the contractor in the morning.”
“I love you,” Dot told him, and Wayne said it right back, like clockwork. Like safety. Like home ought to be.
You have an incoming call from an inmate in Duluth Federal Prison Camp by the name of oh, uh.. Gator Tillman. If you wish to accept this call, please remain on the line. If you wish to decline the call, you may simply hang up. Calls from this facility will be subject to monitoring and recording for security reasons.
“Hello?”
“Hey uh, Dot. It’s uh. Gator.”
“I know, silly. There’s a whole intro to these calls.” Dot teased, and sat down with the phone after closing her bedroom door behind her. Wayne and Scotty’s voices in the living room got fainter, but still present. They gave a comforting background noise to the twist of anxiety in her as she waited for Gator to speak again.
“Right,” He said shortly. Then sighed. “Yeah, sorry. That was dumb. So… I’m callin’.”
“I’m so glad to hear ya,” She assured him, but she knew he didn’t believe it. “How are you doing, huh? Did you like the cookies?”
“They were the best,” Gator said, low, then cleared his throat. “I ate them all in one sitting ‘cause I couldn’t stop. Got the runs for it, but they were worth it.”
“Oh my,” Dot laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. That was Gator, alright. “Should I take it easy on the raisins next time?”
“Don’t you dare,” Gator murmured, but she could hear the grin. “Thank you. You don’t gotta do that though.”
“You said,” She reminded him gently, then had to clear her own throat. “How’s the rest?”
“It’s… prison.” He said, short again. She didn’t have to hide her grimace this time, alone in her bedroom. “Not too bad, considering. Just boring.”
“Any trouble with the others so far?” Dorothy prodded, trying not to feel like she had when she’d asked Scotty if her classmates in preschool were playing nice. “Your roommates? The guards?”
“You know I only called them that for the kid’s sake,” Gator complained, and Dot had to smile at his miffed tone. “They’re… uh.” Dot really had to call Lorraine, maybe bite the bullet and visit for this. “They like to fuck around, I guess? Easy pickings and all, but nothing too bad.”
“Are you getting bullied?” Dot asked and immediately wanted to smack herself. It was prison. Of course he was. “Nevermind, just. Tell me if it gets bad, alright? Or tell your lawyers. If it-” She hesitated, then pressed on. “If anyone tries to hurt you. You still have rights, Gator.”
“Nah. It’s nothing, just some fuckers messing around, playing tough,” He scoffed, but Nadine knew him. She knew him too well to believe his ‘I can handle it’ bravado, because it was paper thin and always had been. One word, one look from Roy, and– “Don’t worry, I got it handled.”
So now she was really worried. She wished fiercely, not for the first time, that Danish Graves was still alive to be on top of things.
“You have rights,” She stressed, trying to sound stern. He used to listen to her, for all the blustering, all the put-on offense. She’d go and find him quietly doing what she’d said, all sulking and angry and embarrassed, but doing it anyway. “Just because you’re blind now–”
“And a former cop. And a state witness, which is just fancy talk for snitch,” Gator briskly said. Dot really let herself close her eyes and feel the truth of it, how little she could do. How little Gator could really do about his situation. “It’s fine, Na- Dot. They got me in the Special Housing Unit anyway, so- I’m fine. I mostly just sit there.”
“That’s another thing,” She couldn’t help but say, hoping her conversation with Indira about accommodations for him had gotten at least some gears moving to get him access to something suited for him. An audiobook, a cane, a braille coach. Something. Indira hadn’t really promised anything, but Dot wanted to believe she could do something. Gator needed her to try. She’d try again, if she had to. “What are ya doing all day, huh? You said they had those classes. Any of those for you?”
“Uh, not in SHU, I think.” He told her, but didn’t sound sure. “One of the lawyers read me this- this page about it? But I wasn’t really- I don’t know. I don’t remember how it works. I don’t know if I can- given. Y’know.”
“Of course you can,” Dot insisted, because she had to believe that, and so did Gator. “None of that defeatist talk, you’re plenty smart. It’s gotta be better than just sitting there, right? More interesting?”
“I can’t fucking read anymore, Dot,” Gator said, and he didn’t sound angry. It was almost worse, how he didn’t, where he would have before.
“You still got those big dumb ears, don’tcha?” She teased, but Gator didn’t play along.
“It’s not like homeschool,” He said, and his voice had gone flat. Dead. “Warden ain’t gonna read me to sleep so I won’t flunk the lesson the next day.”
“Good thing nobody’s gonna belt ya if you fuck it up either,” Dot blurted, then blinked at herself. “Oh geez, that was inappropriate, wasn’t it?”
“Honest for once, more like,” Gator snorted at her. Nadine didn’t apologize for the brief possession of Dot’s lips, smirk wanting to pull at her lips. Dot held it back.
“Just saying. Trying won’t hurt. Ask someone, maybe? If they’d read to you? Describe things, maybe? I know Scotty was asking me about sending you some drawings. And she wanted us to write letters so she can fill you in on all those animal facts she likes. She was happy you were interested, ya know?” Dot tried, more quietly, and Gator just sighed for a long beat of silence.
Then a beep from the phone startled them both.
This call will end in: One minute. The mechanical voice told them, and it made Dot’s exhale shake on the line.
“I won’t see them, Dot,” Gator told her, and his voice had gone small. Then he blustered up a cocky “If she’s like you she probably can’t draw for shit anyway,”
“You won’t see them anyway, will ya?” She teased gingerly and got a scoff back. If it was shaky, neither of them mentioned it. “You gonna call me again next week?”
“Only get one a month,” Gator said, and Dot’s chest clenched. “It’s- it’s fine. You’ll come, right? You’ll come back?”
“Try and stop me,” She said. When the call automatically cut off a few seconds later, Dot sat there holding the phone to her ear for a long time.
It was the distant sound of Wayne’s laugh that bolstered Dot up again to put the phone down and breathe. She had to struggle not to let Nadine back up, with all her weight and grief.
She didn’t cry. There was no point to it.
Choices had consequences, she told herself. And then refused to remember who had first told her those words like a snake on her ear. Instead, she burst out of the dark of her room to follow the bright lights downstairs, to where the TV was playing and Scotty was scolding Wayne for thinking fish had lungs.
“How can you stand it?” Nadine had asked once, a long time ago.
Linda had paused only briefly in pouring the batter onto the pan, before she’d smiled, soft and certain, serene as a breeze in summer. Dot could almost forget, looking at her made-up face, her soft blonde hair perfectly combed, her sure hands, how she’d screamed for Roy to stop.
The steam from the heat of the pan had steamed up Linda’s glasses, but there was no watery sorrow in her gaze when she lifted it to meet Nadine’s.
“For love, dear,” Linda said, then flipped the pancake to reveal a crisp golden brown. Magazine-perfect, just like the box promised. Nadine’s never came out so perfectly shaped, at just the right thickness like Linda’s did.
She hadn’t gotten it then. Who could love a monster so willingly, so passively, who would feed it and smile like that and mean it, when they knew what awaited them after dark. Not her, she swore, and then it had been her, but she gave none of her love away in return. It couldn’t be pried from her, couldn’t be taken.
It was only later, years later, with Nadine a buried corpse and Dot in her place, that she got it.
Holding Scotty in the hospital, Wayne passed out asleep in the visiting chair, and Lorraine outside the door making calls to get them moved to a better room. She looked down into newborn blue eyes and a pudgy little frowny face that was too red and misshaped to be called beautiful by someone who hadn’t given birth to it, and it was right there.
Blooming and all encompassing and obvious. Freely given.
For love.
Not for the monster. Not for the fear and the lies and the struggle.
“Hello my love,” Dot whispered to her daughter, and she thought of another pair of eyes, skinny arms and a mischievous laugh. “My little girl. I’ll love you better. Every single day. I’m never, ever leaving you behind, you hear? Not ever.“
Not by choice, she thought then. The thought fed her anger, her resentment, the dark veil she’d set over that box with the corpse in her chest, in her head.
Not by choice, she thought later, hollowed out and small, trapped in a nightmare and staring at a windmill that she’d dreamt about. Knew about. Somewhere deep down, where she’d never let herself think about it. Where she’d buried all the monsters.
Not by choice.
“So?” Dot pressed impatiently, already done with Lorraine’s put-on nonchalance and unwilling to play along for this. Lorraine, of course, paid her no mind, calmly writing out another donor check like Dot hadn’t opened her mouth at all.
“So,” Lorraine said back, slow and calm. Then she smiled down at her hand holding the pen. Dot felt her own mouth do something too sharp and eager to be called a smile. “It’s going swimmingly. Judge Traynor’s got the case, as we hoped. And the Prosecution is playing ball, what with the big fish hooked and wriggling, as it were.”
“So there’s a plea bargain on the table?”
“Oh no,” Lorraine demurred, and Dot’s heart froze cold for the seconds it took her mother-in-law to lean back on her office chair and blink at her like a satisfied cat in the sunlight. “Not on the table, dear, it’s already been signed. Being processed as we speak. Your boy’s getting his big chance and we,” Here she paused, and Dot felt absurdly giddy as the relief washed over her in waves. Her hands had gone clammy with the shock of it. “We are getting his no-holds barred cooperation to nail his daddy’s balls to the goddamn wall.”
“Oh thank the heavens,” Dot breathed, deep and full and long. Lorraine was already scoffing, reaching out to pointedly tap her undoubtedly absurdly expensive monogrammed pen against the wood of her oversized desk.
“Thank your federal buddies for leaning on the DA, more like,” Dot nodded wordlessly, too giddy for words. But she managed to pull it together enough to give Lorraine a knowing look. “And yes, me, of course. For nudging a few heads to see reason and such.”
“Thank you,” Dot said, sincerely, but Lorraine was already waving her off. The second relief painted Dot’s face with emotion, Lorraine’s own closed off into aloof disinterest. It was how they balanced.
“Yes, yes,” Lorraine said, eyebrows raised. “After all that, and you still weren’t sure, were you? You thought he might pussy out. Taken his chances throwing himself to the beasts, as long as he didn’t have to go anywhere near that man again.”
“He might have,” Dot conceded, because the fear had been there. Gator was depressed, trapped and terrified and for all intents and purposes, he was backed into a corner. She could reach out all she wanted, but she couldn’t make him take her hand. He had to climb out on his own. He had to try to fight back. “He’s still - “
“A man-child,” Lorraine offered and Dot snorted. But she had to concede with a nod.
“Terrified of Roy. He’s- he has to face him now.” Dot tried, but knew Lorraine wouldn’t spare any sympathy. She was right.
“About time.” Lorraine said, and she wasn’t wrong. “I’m sure it helps that he won't have to actually see him there, trying to peel his skin off with his mind.”
“Don’t joke about that,” Dot chided, but Lorraine wasn’t one to be told what to do. Dot didn’t really expect her to listen. Gator was undoubtedly going to hear it from the source constantly, whenever they finally got him out, and that– “How long is he looking at? What’s the deal?”
“He pleads guilty to diminished charges, and agrees to cooperate so thoroughly, the prosecution will have leave to climb up his ass and wring out every useful crumb they can rattle from his tiny little brain,” Lorraine explained smugly. “In exchange, he doesn’t get prosecuted for the real doozies.”
“What doozies?” Dot asked tensely, and Lorraine raised her eyebrows at her.
“Left to his own devices, he’d be lucky to get fifteen to twenty years, dear,” She said matter-of-factly, ignoring the way Dot’s breath audibly caught. “But if he’s a good boy, the sentencing judge gets handed a recommendation to reduce his sentence to the minimum possible felony charges, concurrently served. Five years, maybe eight if he’s unlucky. With good behavior, he could be out in three, four years tops.” Lorraine explained, and Dot stomped down on the reflexive feeling that she could protest, ask for anything further.
Five years. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Survivable. Three years, maybe, and he could be at home, a real one, for the first time. Still young, still able to start over, to find his own path, instead of spending his entire life rotting away in a prison cell like his miserable father would.
“Thank you,” Dot repeated, her voice a bit choked up. Lorraine didn’t comment, but her face said it all. She didn’t get why it mattered to Dorothy, to anyone, what happened to Gator past his usefulness in Roy’s trial.
“You’re banking a lot of resources on a lame horse with that one, dear,” Lorraine drawled, already turning back to her work with a dismissive wave. “You better hope he’s worth the investment.”
“Please thank Indira for me, since I missed her.” Dot asked as she stood and Lorraine looked up in askance. “For the audiotapes. He got them, he told me. Said to thank you for him.”
“What do you know,” Lorraine joked drily, nodding thoughtfully. “A lame horse with manners.”
“Always good to see you, mom.” Dot joked and got to see Lorraine smirk as he closed the office door behind herself, heart lighter than when she walked in.
It was happening. They were doing this.
They were finally burying Roy Tillman in a hole he couldn’t weasel out of. Dot couldn’t wait to start shoveling the earth onto his head.
In the aftermath of a destructive tornado, of an earthquake or a flood, what people forgot to talk about was the silence. The calm. When there were no more sirens or screaming or death, there was just– life. Normal and mundane and wonderfully, beautifully dull.
“Honey, where did my socks go?” Wayne called, his bewildered voice making Dot smile as she finished up her make-up in the bathroom mirror. “I swear, I put them right down just a second ago.”
“Check the dresser,” She called back, fluffing up her hair just a little. “I bet you a milkshake you didn’t even take ‘em out of the drawer.”
Some shuffling noises later, and she heard Wayne exclaim “Oh geez!”
“So is strawberry okay, or do you want chocolate for that milkshake?” He called back and Dot laughed, walking out of the bathroom in her robe to go and kiss his cheek. He grinned back, unrepentant. “I’m thinking we both sneak out before closing time today and we can go pick Scotty up together for dinner.”
“Ooh, what’s the occasion?” Dot teased, reaching into her closet for the outfit she’d set out the night before. The notion of not just grabbing what was comfy for the day was still a little alien, in a wonderful way. Office clothes were not that different, really, if a bit less likely to consist of comfy cardigans and jeans everyday. Dot hardly minded the excuse to play around a little with her looks for once.
“It’s Friday!” Wayne exclaimed, finishing up with his shoes and adjusting his shirt collar in her dressing room mirror for a beat before turning to smile at her. “And I’m the boss.”
“Ooh,” Dot teased, slipping into her dress and turning to let him do the back zipper up for her. “Frisky.”
“I’ll show you frisky,” Wayne murmured against her neck, and Dot leaned back into him, closing her eyes to savor it. The morning light, the moment, the solidity of him. Of them.
“That a promise?” She offered, and opened her eyes to see how his eyes lit up in excitement behind his glasses. She reached up to adjust them on his face and kissed his nose. “Down, Romeo, the munchkin awaits.”
“But tonight?” He tried, and she smiled back with a wink as she pulled back to head to the kitchen, hearing the predictable. “Shoot, where’s my wallet?” from behind her as she left the room.
“Morning baby,” She greeted when she found Scotty already sitting at the table with her eyes glued to her tablet, crunching on cereal.
“Morning,” Scotty said, mouth full. Dot scoffed, but didn’t bother saying anything as she went to the fridge to pull out the fixings of a decent breakfast for the lot of them. “I like your dress.”
“Do ya?” Dot teased, looking over her shoulder as Scotty shoved another spoonful in her mouth. “You want us to go buy you one just like it, then?”
“No,” Scotty laughed, scuffed sneakers untied as she kicked them idly under the table. “I like my pants more.”
“They do look mighty nice on ya,” Dot conceded, even if she privately thought she might have to go shopping with Scotty soon anyway. She was getting so tall. “I think it’s the skinned knee that really pulls it together.”
“You’re silly,” was Scotty’s decree. Dot had to agree, smiling at nothing as she put the bacon to fry on the pan.
“And you’re gonna be late,” Dot chided, pointing to the clock. “Remember you’re catching the bus this morning. Is your backpack ready yet?”
“I couldn’t find my science notebook,” Scotty told her nonchalantly, unconcerned as she watched Sponge Bob. “I think I lost it.”
“This notebook?” Wayne called, coming into the kitchen and setting down his briefcase on the counter with one hand, showing off a glittery green notebook with the other. “The one I found in the bathroom?”
“The bathroom, really?” Dot complained, whisking the eggs, but she was laughing when Scotty sprang up to grab the notebook and ran to shove it into her school bag in the living room. “Don’t forget your pens this morning!”
“I won’t!” Scotty called back, but Dot held little hope it was true. Kid could lose her head if it wasn’t attached some days.
“Grab me the orange juice, will you hon?” Dot asked Wayne, plating their food and turning with it in hand to find him already pouring it. “You’re on top of things this morning, huh?”
“Except for the socks,” Wayne nodded, and pulled her chair out for her. “I still owe you that milkshake.”
“You’ll just have to go get me one at lunch hour.” Dot primly informed him, “Extra cold, if you please.”
“I’ll just have to do that, won’t I?” Wayne said, not sounding put out at the prospect. “Might get myself one while I’m at it.”
“Now, I don’t know, that wasn’t in the deal,” Dot teased, and Wayne grinned. A long beat of comfortable silence followed as they dug in, cutlery noises taking over conversation as Dot heard Scotty still running around upstairs like a cute little headless chicken.
“How’re you feeling, about today?” Wayne asked after a few minutes, wiping his mouth on a napkin.
“Good,” Dot said, and she meant more than he did with the question. Her bacon was a bit overcooked, but her eggs were perfect, and so was the rest of her morning. Her life. “Nervous, I guess. You know I’m still getting the hang of things, but I think I have a good idea on what we want for the new office.”
“I’ll say,” Wayne said, chewing with his mouth open in a perfect example of why her daughter had no manners at the table. “I think Todd was trying to get ya to run the whole project yourself so he wouldn’t hafta to keep explaining the changes to the contractors.”
“Todd should watch his butt then, I just might,” Dot joked, even though a part of her thought she could handle it, actually. It might be fun. One eye up on the clock, she called out. “Scotty! Bus time!”
“Coming!” Scotty called, then came the scramble of her running steps on the stairs, ignoring both of their calls of “Careful!” as she burst inside the kitchen. Her breath was minty fresh as she kissed both their cheeks. “Bye!”
“Remember we’ll pick you up today, wait for us at the gate,” Dot instructed, then kissed her cheek in return and watched her scramble out the door with one shoe lace freshly untied. “Scotty! Your shoe-!”
But she was gone. Dot sighed as Wayne laughed, and stood to collect their dishes.
“You about ready to go?” He asked as he loaded the dishwasher and Dot gulped down the last of her juice and nodded, standing to go brush her teeth upstairs.
“Two minutes,” She called back, and when alone in the main bathroom again, she stared at herself in the mirror for a second, caught by the look on her face.
Her house was still under heavy repair, from the fire and the break-in. Outside the bathroom door, she and Wayne had transplanted their bedroom to the guest room temporarily, and the staircase had raw wood for banisters in places. The house smelled vaguely of smoke when she laid down at night. Her face had the fading shades of bruising that her work-appropriate dress was concealing in other parts of her body.
But there she was, already smiling.
There she was.
“Dot?” Wayne called, and Dot shook her head clear as she grabbed her toothbrush and got to work, calling back a garbled “Coming!” back to him that made him shout back “What?!” and had her laughing and spraying the mirror with toothpaste she’d have to clean off later.
But that, with many other worries, could come later, in a future she still had stretching far ahead of her.
“What do you mean, I can’t see him?” Dot demanded. The corrections officer stared back at her with a bored disinterest that threatened to light a fire under her ass. “No, see, there must be some mistake. He has rights. Even if he’s a felon now, he’s–”
“Ma’am,” The man interrupted her flatly, and Dot reigned herself in the best she could to give him a challenging look. It didn’t seem to impress him. “As I said, the inmate you came to see is unavailable for visitation at the current time. It’s not a debate. You can contact our call center with his prisoner ID number to ask when visitations may resume.”
“Now wait just a minute, is this legal?” Dot demanded, even if she knew it was a losing fight. Gesturing with her care package in hand was difficult, but the unimpressed look of the broad, mustached officer didn’t change. “We did all the - all the paperwork and authorizations and all the hoopla. You can check, I’m on his list. He already can’t call me except once a month. How else is his family supposed to check up on him?”
“Visitation is a privilege,” The officer said, and Dot was about ready to launch her package at his face. She couldn’t, she knew she couldn’t, she couldn’t lose her only way to give Gator something from outside these walls, couldn’t be so stupid as to get crossed off his approved visitors altogether because she lost her cool.
But having driven for over two hours to see him and be turned away at the door with no explanation when she’d promised him–
“At least tell me why,” She bargained, and when the man didn’t look away from staring her down, she glared right back. “Don’t make me call your supervisor.”
“Ma’am, this is a federal prison, not your local Walmart,” The officer replied, but whatever he saw in Dot’s face made his mustache twitch, and he finally deigned to look down to the clipboard he held and at least pretend to try. “His status inside the facility is confidential. You’ll have to contact the Warden if you want more details. In the future, call ahead of your scheduled visit so you won’t waste your time and mine. Next!”
“No, no, wait! Wait! Let me speak to the Warden then!” She tried, but the other family members around her were already shoving right past her to get through the security procedure to enter the prison’s visiting room. The officer turned his back on her with finality, ignoring her completely.
Dot froze, torn between the impulse to push ahead and the very real fear of crossing some thin boundary that would get Gator hurt, if he wasn’t already.
“It’s not worth it,” Dot heard, and whirled around in a tizzy of frizzy hair – she hadn’t had the time to comb it while it was still wet this morning, caught up in her hurry to drop Scotty off at Lorraine’s and still make good time on the drive over – to find a white-haired woman behind her, smiling sadly in her direction. The wrinkles around her calm brown eyes softened her withered face. “They never listen and they won’t tell you anything. You don’t go in and see the Warden like in the movies, you have to write to them through the post.”
“Oh shoot,” Dot murmured, only then realizing she was still clutching the care package she’d brought Gator. “Oh. So I can’t – but how do I know he’s alright? He can’t call me for weeks.”
“You don’t,” A younger woman put in, bleached blonde hair tied up in a ponytail that swayed as she walked closer to stare Dot down. She was unusually tall. “Your man a first timer, hon?”
“Oh,” Dot blinked, then laughed nervously. “Oh no, he’s not– I’m married. I mean, not to him. He’s - he’s not my husband, is what I mean. He’s my little brother. And- and yes, he’s- he’s never been in prison before.”
“Fresh meat,” The younger woman said, then winced at Dot’s reaction. “Sorry, sorry, that was a shit thing to joke about, innit? I’m sure he’s just fine. The guards like to play power games sometimes, you just gotta play by their rules.”
“Even if he ain’t a’right, they’re not gonna tell ya,” The old woman said, nodding her head to where the guards at the entrance were already eyeing their group suspiciously. “We have to go inside now, and you’ve gotta leave. Don’t loiter here fuming, they won’t let ya. Just send the Warden a letter to inquire about your kid brother, wait for them to contact you.”
“But my package-” Dot mumbled, taken aback. The older woman was already moving forward toward the doors to sign herself in, but the younger woman lingered to spare her a sympathetic look.
“He won’t get it, hon,” She explained softly, and Dot clutched her bag to her chest in reflex, like she’d take it from her. The blonde just shook her head. “Haven’t they explained? They won’t give him anything you hand in in person like this, you gotta send it all through the post and hope it makes it past inspection. If your boy’s in the hole, he wouldn’t get it anyway.”
“The hole?” Dot mumbled faintly, a nightmarish flashback of the grave at the ranch filling her vision for a second before she forcibly blinked it away. “No, no. See, he got my cookies last time. He told me so.”
“He lied, babe,” The woman said, reaching out to pat her shoulder with a manicured hand before walking past her as well. “Old Gladys had a point though, you gotta go now before they get jumpy that you’re out here selling smack or pushing contraband. Good luck with your boy!”
Then Dot was alone. The flock of women and children moved on further inside the facility to be patted down and searched, while she stood there with a box of cookies and essentials in hand that suddenly had no purpose.
“Head back to your car ma’am,” Another nearby correctional officer told her, this one sans mustache but with a similar disinterest. “Your visit is over for the day.”
She did. As she left, she looked back at the squat brown building, the care package in her passenger seat, and watched it grow smaller in her rearview mirror with a feeling of dread she’d hoped to have left behind in North Dakota.