Gabe （20 Two Years Later）
Nothing can really prepare you for the moment your mom gets out of prison for something you did. My breathing is shallow, and my stomach churns.
For two years, I've lived with the guilt of knowing she's there because of me.
For two years, I haven’t had a conversation with anyone.
A few words have slipped out here and there, but only when my emotions became too overwhelming to contain.
Mom begged me to lie to the police.
I couldn't do it.
But I couldn't tell the truth either because she didn’t want me to—pleaded with me not to.
I'll never say the words, "She did it."
So I chose to be silent.
I can speak—I just don’t want to.
I don't deserve to speak.
I'm a murderer.
I'd rather stay silent than take up any more space in this world. I shouldn't be here at all. I should be the one locked away in prison.
The June sun bakes my skin as I look at the dreary gray building that’s kept my mom away from me. Doug stands beside me, sweat streaming down his face.
I can tell he’s nervous. They’ve had to build a relationship with security glass between them. They even got married in prison. It took ages to get the warden’s approval, but they managed to do it. My poor mom got married in the visitors' area of Belmont Prison.
I can tell Doug wants nothing to do with me.
He blames me for losing the love of his life for two years.
He’s not wrong.
It is my fault, and I’d do anything to go back in time and undo it—never again to close my eyes and see my father’s face, twisted with agony and betrayal, as he breathed his last breath.
There are so many things I’d do differently.
But there’s another reason why I don’t speak to Doug.
He hurt Jason.
No matter how much Jason hates me, I’ll never forgive Doug for what he did to him. If Mom loves Doug, so be it. I want her to be happy.
That doesn’t mean I have to love him.
Or even like him, for that matter.
A buzzing sound goes off at the prison’s entrance, grabbing my attention.
The door opens, and I see…
Mom.
I run. No, I sprint—race along the cement as fast as I can to feel her in my arms.
“Hi, bab—” My hug knocks the wind out of her. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna crack a rib,” she says with a chuckle.
I loosen my grip and look into her eyes.
They’re tired. Worn.
Prison has changed her face. Not just emotionally, but physically, too. She never told me anything, but I know it was hard for her there—really hard.
I clench my eyes shut.
Don’t cry. This is her day.
It’s too hard, though. I can feel the tears coming, and she pulls me close once more. “It’s over now. It’s over.”
But it’s not.
It’ll never be over. Not for me.
Doug approaches, and I back away, letting them have their moment. They’ve waited a long time to be together.
“Hey,” Mom whispers to Doug.
“Hey.”
Mom walks into Doug’s embrace, and I watch as he savors the moment.
He pushed a lot of people away to be with Mom.
Including Jason.
His name alone makes my chest ache.
They kiss, and I avert my gaze to give them some privacy. It also hurts to watch, because I remember what it felt like to kiss somebody like that.
Even if it was only just a couple of times.
I hear Doug whisper, “Let’s get you home, babe.”
A heaviness settles over me.
Home is his trailer, which is directly across the gravel road from ours. Jason and I grew up across the road from each other, which is how we became best friends.
I live in the trailer with all the memories. They kept the trailer that Mom and I lived in for more space. She’s going to move into Doug’s so they can start their life together. They deserve some privacy, but I’d give anything to leave the home I grew up in.
But Mom wants me close.
So, I’ll endure the pain of living in the space where it all happened.
I can do that.
For her.