20. Out of Sight
Chapter twenty
Out of Sight
The first night was the hardest.
Miko lay on the narrow bed staring at a ceiling that didn’t belong to her. The room was cold, the mattress was thin, and every unfamiliar sound reminded her that she could not leave.
Doors opened when someone else decided.
Lights went off according to a schedule.
Even silence felt controlled.
Miko closed her eyes and pictured her apartment. She thought about the blanket folded across the couch, the coffee cup near the sink, and the bag she had packed but never touched after entering the courtroom.
She wondered who had taken it home.
She wondered whether Jayson and Meca had spoken after she was led away.
Most of all, she wondered which promises would survive the reality of her sentence.
The first several days passed in confusion. Miko learned the rules, followed instructions, and tried not to show how frightened she was. She watched the other women carefully and kept most of her thoughts to herself.
At night, she counted the days.
Three hundred sixty-four.
Three hundred sixty-three.
Three hundred sixty-two.
The number felt impossible.
During her first phone call, Miko called Meca.
Meca answered immediately. “Hello?”
The sound of her voice nearly broke Miko.
“Hey.”
“Miko?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
Miko looked around at the other women waiting to use the phone. “I don’t know.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”
“They just gave me access to the phone.”
“Do you need anything?”
“I need to go home.”
Meca became quiet.
Miko closed her eyes. “I know you can’t fix that.”
“I wish I could.”
“Did you get my things?”
“Yes. I have your bag, purse, and phone.”
“What about my apartment?”
“I spoke with the leasing office. They gave me information about what needs to be done. Your attorney also called.”
“You talked to him?”
“Yes. I wrote everything down.”
Relief moved through Miko. Meca had already begun handling the responsibilities they had discussed.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do.”
A recorded voice interrupted the call and announced the remaining time.
Miko’s chest tightened. “I don’t have long.”
“Then listen to me,” Meca said. “You’re going to get through this.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Don’t forget about me.”
Meca’s voice softened. “I won’t.”
The call ended before Miko was ready.
She held the receiver for a few seconds after the line disconnected, wishing she could hear Meca’s voice again.
The following day, Miko called Jayson.
He answered after several rings. “Hello?”
“Jayson.”
“Miko. I’ve been trying to figure out how to reach you.”
“I couldn’t call until now.”
“How are you?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry I was late to court.”
Miko looked down. “You made it.”
“But I should’ve been there before the hearing started.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“I know.”
She waited for him to explain what happened, but the recorded warning reminded her that every minute mattered.
“Did you talk to Meca?” Miko asked.
“Only for a minute after they took you away.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she was handling your belongings.”
“She is.”
Jayson became quiet.
“Are you going to visit?” Miko asked.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“As soon as I figure out the process.”
“Meca already found out how.”
The words came out sharper than Miko intended.
Jayson sighed. “I’m going to handle it, Miko.”
“Okay.”
“I told you I’m going to be here.”
“I know.”
“Then trust me.”
Miko wanted to.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Call me again.”
“I will.”
“And Miko?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
She closed her eyes. “I love you too.”
During the first month, Meca wrote every week.
Her letters were filled with updates about work, Miko’s apartment, and the people who had asked about her. She told Miko which bills had been addressed and what documents still required attention. She even included small details that made Miko feel connected to the life she had left behind.
The office coffee was still terrible.
Jemika was still observing everybody.
Meca still looked toward Miko’s empty desk every morning.
Jayson wrote once.
His letter was shorter.
He told Miko that the shop had been busy, everyone had asked about her, and he was trying to arrange a visit. He ended the letter with the same promise he made in court.
I’ll be here when you come home.
Miko read both letters repeatedly.
Meca’s letters made her feel as though she were still part of someone’s daily life.
Jayson’s letter made her feel remembered.
At first, she believed both were enough.
Meca visited during the second month.
Miko sat on one side of the partition while Meca sat on the other. For several seconds, they simply stared at each other.
“You look different,” Meca said through the phone.
“So do you.”
“I look the same.”
“No, you don’t.”
Meca smiled slightly. “Neither do you.”
Miko wanted to touch her hand, but the barrier between them made that impossible.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I told you I would.”
“How is work?”
“The same.”
“Does Jemika still ask about me?”
“Every day.”
Miko laughed for the first time in weeks. “I know she getting on your nerves.”
“She was getting on my nerves before you left.”
They laughed together, but the moment quickly became quiet.
Miko studied Meca’s face. “Do you miss me?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Miko.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to test me.”
“I’m not testing you.”
“Yes, you are.”
Miko looked away. “I need to know I still matter.”
“You matter.”
“Then why does everything feel different?”
“Because everything is different.”
Miko looked back at her.
Meca continued, “You’re in here, and I’m out there trying to keep parts of your life together. We don’t get to talk when we want. I can’t see you when I want. Of course it feels different.”
“Are you still waiting for me?”
Meca became quiet.
Miko felt panic rise inside her. “You said—”
“I said I would support you through this year, and I am.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Then answer me.”
Meca took a slow breath. “We never resolved what was happening between us before you came here.”
“I know.”
“You were still deciding between me and Jayson.”
“I’m not with Jayson now.”
“That isn’t because you chose me.”
The words hurt because they were true.
Miko had not made a decision. The sentence had interrupted the decision for her.
“I think about you every day,” Miko said.
“I think about you too.”
“Then why can’t that be enough?”
“Because feelings weren’t the only problem.”
A voice announced that their visit would end in five minutes.
Miko placed her hand against the partition. Meca looked at it before lifting her own hand to meet it from the other side.
“I’m here,” Meca said.
“For how long?”
Meca held her gaze. “Today.”
Miko’s eyes filled with tears.
It wasn’t the answer she wanted.
But it was an honest one.
Jayson visited for the first time several weeks later.
He walked in smiling, but the smile disappeared when he saw Miko.
“Damn,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just hate seeing you in here.”
“I hate being in here.”
Jayson picked up the phone. “You look good, though.”
Miko laughed softly. “You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“How is the shop?”
“Busy. Everybody asks about you.”
“You said that in your letter.”
“I know.”
“You never wrote again.”
“I’m not good at writing.”
“You’re good at talking.”
“I’ve been working.”
Miko felt the familiar disappointment. “You’re always working.”
“I’m trying to keep things together.”
“For who?”
Jayson frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m in here, and you keep telling me how busy your life is.”
“What do you want me to do, Miko? Stop living?”
She looked down.
Jayson immediately softened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No. I’m just saying this is hard for me too.”
Miko looked through the partition at him. “You get to leave.”
“I know.”
“You get to go back to the shop, sleep in your own bed, and answer your phone whenever you want.”
“I know that.”
“So don’t tell me how hard this is for you.”
Jayson looked away. “You’re right.”
The rest of the visit felt strained. They talked about people they knew and memories they shared, but something between them had changed.
When the visit ended, Jayson placed his hand against the barrier.
“I still love you,” he said.
“I love you too.”
“I’ll come back soon.”
Miko nodded.
But soon became two months.
His calls became less frequent because he was usually working when Miko had access to the phone. Sometimes she left a message and waited several days for a response. When they finally spoke, the conversations felt rushed.
Meca remained more consistent.
She continued writing, although her letters gradually changed. There were fewer updates about Miko’s apartment because most of her affairs had been settled. She wrote more about her own life—projects at work, family responsibilities, and plans she had begun making for herself.
Miko noticed that Meca no longer wrote about looking toward her empty desk.
She no longer ended every letter with I miss you.
Instead, she wrote Take care of yourself.
The change was small, but Miko felt it.
One evening, Miko called Meca.
“You don’t miss me anymore?” she asked.
Meca sighed. “Why would you ask that?”
“You stopped saying it.”
“I don’t have to write it in every letter for it to be true.”
“But it feels like you’re moving on.”
“I’m living, Miko.”
“So you are moving on.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“What does living mean?”
“It means going to work, spending time with my family, seeing friends, and handling my responsibilities.”
“Are you seeing somebody?”
Meca became quiet.
Miko gripped the receiver. “Meca?”
“I’ve gone out a few times.”
“With a woman?”
“Yes.”
The answer felt like a physical blow.
“So you’re dating someone?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re going out with her.”
“Yes.”
“After everything you said to me?”
“What did I say?”
“That you would be here.”
“I am here.”
“No, you’re replacing me.”
“I’m not replacing you.”
“Then why are you seeing somebody else?”
Meca’s voice remained calm. “Because my life didn’t stop when your sentence started.”
Miko wiped her eyes. “Mine did.”
“I know.”
“You told me you cared about me.”
“I still care about you.”
“But not enough to wait.”
“Miko, you never chose me.”
Silence settled between them.
Meca continued, “Before you went away, you wanted me to wait while you decided between me and Jayson. Now you want me to wait because you’re incarcerated. When do I get to make decisions about my own life?”
Miko had no answer.
A recorded voice announced that only one minute remained.
Meca’s tone softened. “I’m not abandoning you. I’ll keep writing, answering when I can, and visiting when I’m able.”
“But it won’t be the same.”
“No,” Meca said. “It won’t.”
The call ended.
Miko returned to her bed and sat with the truth she had avoided for months.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
Meca had warned her about that long before the sentence. At the time, Miko believed the words were only about Jayson. She never imagined they might apply to Meca too.
But Meca hadn’t forgotten her.
She had simply refused to stop living.
As the months passed, Miko changed.
She stopped measuring her worth by how often someone called. She began spending more time reading, writing, and thinking about the decisions that had brought her to that point.
She thought about Jayson and the years she had spent waiting for him to become consistent.
She thought about Meca and how easily curiosity had turned into emotional dependence.
She thought about herself and how often she had asked both of them to provide certainty she had never offered in return.
Jayson visited two more times during the year.
Each visit felt like a meeting between two people trying to remember who they had been together.
He still said he loved her.
He still said he would be there when she came home.
But his calls became shorter, and sometimes several weeks passed without a letter or visit.
Meca continued writing twice a month.
Her letters remained thoughtful but careful. She asked about Miko’s health, encouraged her to keep reading, and reminded her that the year would eventually end.
She never mentioned the woman she had gone out with.
Miko never asked again.
Near the end of her sentence, Miko received two letters on the same day.
The first was from Jayson.
Almost home. We’ll talk when you get out.
The second was from Meca.
You have survived nearly one year. Be proud of the woman coming home, even if she is not the same woman who left.
Miko placed the letters beside each other.
Jayson was waiting to talk about what they had been.
Meca was acknowledging who Miko had become.
For the first time, Miko understood the difference.
A year earlier, she had been afraid that incarceration would reveal who loved her.
Instead, it revealed something more complicated.
Both Jayson and Meca had loved her in their own ways.
But love did not freeze people in place.
Time moved.
Life continued.
Feelings changed.
And sometimes, the people who promised to remain were still there when you returned—but not in the same place where you left them.