“Exactly! It’s a concrete compound, barbed wire, armed guards, bright lights, not to mention security checkpoints.” Taking a deep breath and rolling her eyes, Gloria asked, “Hank, are you telling me you’re so selfish you want Hannah to go through multiple security checks, sit in an environment not conducive for a child, so she can visit with her idol across a table for a couple hours? Wouldn’t you rather continue to speak to her on the phone, as her daddy, who she knows and loves? Or even as the Captain?” She brushed away a single teardrop that had rolled down her face. “Hank, look at you… examine yourself and where you sit; do you really want her to see you like this?”
Frustrated, Hank clenched his teeth and folded his arms over his chest, just the way Hannah copied him every time she was upset. “I don’t like it, but I know you’re probably right. Clearly I’m embarrassing and a disgraceful father to our daughter.”
“Hank, don’t be like that.” Gloria sighed. “We’ve just gone this long without having to subject her to this, half of your sentence is over, and you’re up for a parole hearing soon. Is this really what you want? Do you really, really—and take your time before you answer me—want me to talk to her about coming up here to see you when I go home?” Gloria softened her tone, pretending to talk to Hannah. “What did Daddy say? Um. Let me see. He’d like to know, sweetheart, if you’d like to visit him in prison. Would you like to do that?” Gloria half smiled. “Hank, of course she’s going to say yes. But it’s not a good idea, and we both know it.”
The silence between the two was deafening. Knowing Gloria was right, hating her for it, but loving her at the same time, made the situation extremely difficult for them both. An alarm went off, and a red light came on; visitation time was up, and visitors began to say their goodbyes. Trying to lift his spirits before she left, Gloria told him how much they loved him. He didn’t respond.
“I’m not trying to be cruel, Hank, and I know you know we’re right to stand by this decision that we’ve made. Sometimes we have to be cruel to the ones we love in order to be kind.” Turning to walk away, she whispered, “I do love you.”
With a heavy heart, Hank nodded. “I get it, but I feel as if a piece of me is dying each time I talk to Hannah on the phone, and she doesn’t want to talk to me. I love you too.”
“Baby, she’s seven. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone on the phone. She wants to play and do her thing; it’s honestly not you.” Instinctively her hand reached out to him before she quickly realized what she was doing and pulled her hand back before a guard corrected her. “Do what you’re doing: lay low and stay out of trouble. Your parole hearing is right around the corner!” For a split second, Hank’s eyes lit up. “This is good, baby, so good! I’m positive that you’ll get out early, and your attorney says it is possible you could be released within actual hours of that hearing, the same day even, based on time already served and good behavior, and soon we’ll be a family again!”
Hank nodded. “I know, babe, and you’re right, about everything! I’m sorry. It’s this place. I just miss you, Hannah, and our life. I love you, babe. I really, really love you!”
“I love you too! Trust me, it’s going to be okay. Your hearing will be our lifesaver!”
Saying their goodbyes on a good note made Gloria feel better about leaving him there. Hank, escorted by a prison guard, went back to his cell, and Gloria made the long drive home.
Lying low and trying to stay out of trouble drew unwanted attention to Hank.
Unsociable, rude, asshole, freak, dickhead. Hank had been called a lot of names since he’d been in prison. Doing his best to stay away from other inmates had backfired and made him a target. He was provoked on a daily basis as he refused to take the bait and engage in fights, banter, or trouble of any sort. Parole hearing in sight, Hank tried to stay out of trouble as best he could, but that didn’t stop the other prisoners from having a go at him. Bets were continually placed among inmates to see who would be the first prisoner to get Hank to initiate a fight. Being a murderer on the cellblock—involuntary manslaughter or not—didn’t help his plight as inmates lined up to show Hank he was nothing that any one of them, on any given day, couldn’t handle. The bounty on his head, to prove he was nothing at all, increased by the day. Between unreported beatings, his cell had been ransacked on numerous occasions and his personal items, what few there were, and commissary goods stolen. Hank had a target on his back since he arrived, and no one cared that he had had no intention of killing Tom O’Halloron.
It took a while, but finally the day came. Pushed too far, backed into a corner, and Hank came out swinging. There was one major problem: it wasn’t a typical fight, and with wagers so high, there was to be only one outcome. Out of nowhere, a prison shank was shoved into Hank’s left side before the inmate ran off. Two other inmates jumped in and started punching and kicking Hank before he fell, so no specific inmate could be blamed. Several would take the fall. Scrambling to his feet, wobbly at best, Hank managed to throw out a single wailing punch to try to defend himself. Unknowingly he struck a prison guard trying to break up the fight before once again falling to the ground. Assaulting a guard, regardless of the circumstances, was a charge he could not deny. The charge not only had to be addressed, but the warden insisted Gunner be made an example of in front of all the other prisoners. No one, regardless of the situation, strikes a prison guard or causes a guard to be struck. As Hank was rushed to the medical unit, all his privileges were taken away on the spot, immediately, before he had even made it out of surgery.
Standard procedure was enforced, and letters were written to the parole board from the warden himself. No hearing would be needed; assaulting a guard, no matter the reason, resulted in an automatic denial of parole. Hank received additional time on his sentence for assaulting a prison guard and for being in a prison fight. Deemed a danger to society, he wasn’t fit to leave prison early. Hank wouldn’t be coming home for a long, long time.
Gloria could hardly thank the attorney for the call. It had not been a pleasure speaking to him, but she found the strength to thank him for taking the time to call her personally and deliver the news himself.
Soaking in a bath, tears streaming down her cheeks, Gloria submerged herself under the hot, soapy water and held her breath for as long as she possibly could. She reemerged, head pounding, and even the sound of Hannah’s laughter seeping through the walls brought her no comfort at all. Drying her body as if in slow motion, Gloria ran through the words that she would say to her daughter about Hank’s fight and his injuries. Should she even mention it at all, the stabbing? On the one hand, it was her duty as a mom to protect her child and sugarcoat the truth, and Hannah was too young to understand anyway; on the other hand, maybe Hannah had a right to know. Her conscience was divided. Wrapped in her worn terrycloth bathrobe, she sat on the edge of Hannah’s bed.
“Can I talk to you for a second, Hannah? It’s important.”
Hannah stopped playing and plopped down on the bed next to her momma. Her legs were swinging back and forth, and Gloria wondered if her kid could ever sit still.
“It’s about Daddy.”
Hannah’s eyes lit up. “He’s coming home?” she asked excitedly.
Gloria forced a smile across her face and reached over to squeeze Hannah’s hand. “Noooooo.” Pinching the tip of her nose, basking in the sweet giggles of a seven-year-old, she forged ahead. “He was in a terrible accident today.”
“Accident?” Hannah’s legs quit kicking the bed. “What kind of accident?”
Hannah’s beautiful blue eyes staring up at her as she waited for answers, Gloria stumbled around awkwardly, wondering what to say. “Well, he fell, and he’s hurt. He’s in the hospital, and they’re doing surgery on him.” The pressure of the situation and the uncertainty of Hank’s outcome were too much. Gloria was scared to death she’d break down and scare Hannah. Gloria stood up and walked toward the closet door. Opening it, she flipped through the hangers, sliding clothes from side to
side, and pulled out an outfit for Hannah to wear the next day. “He’s in surgery, and the doctors are going to take care of him. But right now you need to jump in bed.” Her voice was calm and soothing, void of anything that would indicate she was as worried as she felt inside. In control again of her emotions, she walked back over to Hannah’s bed, pulled back the bed covers, and patted the mattress.
“Time for bed, little lady, or are you a pirate today?” Hesitating, she whispered, “You know, it’s okay if you’ve outgrown the pirate game.”
“That’s silly, Momma.” Hannah climbed into bed. “Who outgrows that game? It’s a story; it comes from a book.” She giggled. “Daddy said his daddy read it to him, and that’s why he reads it to me.” She started to laugh, knowing they barely cracked the book open. “But we never read it.” Flopping backwards onto her pillow, she asked her momma a question she’d asked her a hundred times or more. “When will Daddy come home?”
Tired of disappointing her, Gloria dodged the question yet again. “Go to sleep, baby. It’s late.”
“But when?”
“When what, Hannah?”
“When will Daddy come back, here, to live with us?”
Feeling utterly defeated and lost for words, Gloria struggled. Where they lived? It had always been where they had all lived. Their family, their home. Tell her the truth, a part of her told herself. Don’t do it, another part insisted. How do you say to a kid something like that? He was up for parole, and he blew it; instead of coming home, he’s staying in longer! Tired. She was tired of not knowing what the right thing to say or do was, and tired of tripping over her own words. Sickened at the thought of trying to explain to a child what was going on, she forced a sentence out of her mouth that she hoped would pacify Hannah for a little while longer.
“Right now, little pirate, all we want is Daddy to get well, don’t we?”
Hannah nodded.
“Why don’t we make him a lovely card tomorrow and send it to him; a get-well card. How about that?”
Sleepily, Hannah agreed.
In the kitchen, Gloria sipped a glass of bold red, her head reeling as she waited for Hannah to fall asleep. Creeping into Hannah’s bedroom on the way to hers, she stopped to cover her up and watched her sleep for a moment. Hannah looked so peaceful; one would never know she had a father who had been convicted of involuntary manslaughter, stabbed and in critical condition, and had immediately lost his chance for parole and early release. Topping that, he had been given a longer sentence. For all they knew, he might not even make it through the night. Bending down, she kissed Hannah’s cheek softly, twice—once for her, and once for Hank.
“Why did you do this to us?” she whispered as she lay in bed that night, crying into her pillow. “Goddamn it, Hank Gunner, why the hell did you do this to us?!”
That night Gloria couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, worrying all night. Hurt, angry, and sad, mind racing, struggling with what she knew she was about to face, she made a decision that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Chapter 9
Moves in Motion
“Leave me alone; I can’t take anymore!”
~ Gloria Gunner ~
One by one the bills piled up, and each time the phone rang Gloria avoided answering it. Debt collectors calling nonstop about bills she couldn’t pay was a problem. Picking up as many extra shifts as she could still wasn’t enough to cover everything that was due, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep up. Every time the phone rang, it was a number she didn’t recognize, unavailable, please call 1-800-423-8795, extension something, case #27659A or whatever, and to call immediately! Gloria hit decline or turned off the phone. It was inevitable; they were going to lose the house. Foreclosure notice after foreclosure notice arrived, and finally the knock on the door she’d been expecting and dreading came in the form of a large, disgruntled man who apparently hated his job; couldn’t say she blamed him.
“Mr. Gunner here, please?”
“Who’s calling?”
“Well, at this point it really doesn’t matter, now, does it? But if you insist, my name is Mr. Andrews, I’m with SF Community Bank, and I need to speak with Mr. Gunner in regards to a foreclosure notice. How’s that?” His tone was uncaring, and he had a nasty smirk on his face.
“You condescending asshole!”
“Ma’am, you don’t have to shoot the messenger. Is Gunner available or what?”
Gloria snatched the paperwork out of his hand. “He’s detained; I’ll see he receives these, now please leave.”
“Gladly.” The guy turned and walked down the path. “You have a nice day!”
“How long?” she yelled after him. “Do we have before we need to leave?”
He never looked over his shoulder or glanced back in her direction, not even once. “Sixty days; then the bank owns it. Goes up for auction, unless miraculously you get caught up, which at this point I doubt. Sixty days start from today!”
Fucking asshole! she whispered under her breath, disgusted he’d brought her to such language. Grateful Hannah was at school, she rushed over to visit Sandy to vent and for comfort.
“What are you going to do?” Sandy asked.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore. Move, I guess, obviously.”
“You know you and Hannah are welcome to stay here with us, at least until to you get on your feet. Hannah loves Nate, and I’d love to have you here.”
Gloria hugged her and scooped Nate up into her lap. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” Squeezing Nate close to her, kissing the top of his head, Gloria finally voiced the words she’d been thinking about but had been afraid to say out loud. “As terrifying as the thought of this is, I think we need a fresh start. Move. Not too far, but far enough away that we can have a clean slate.”
“What about Hank?”
“He’s not going anywhere. Right now they say he’s critical but I can’t talk to him, and they won’t let me see him.” Setting Nate down on the floor to play, she picked her mug of coffee off the table and took a sip. “I guess I’ll start looking for houses and job transfers, but I think it might be good for Hannah. Don’t you?”
Sandy shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly, as much as I would miss you, and I would miss you, I don’t think it would hurt.”
It took a few months, but Gloria was able to transfer into the same position with an affiliate hospital in a neighboring town. Sandy and her brother, Nigel, helped load the last of their things into the U-Haul. Gloria’s heart sank as she said goodbye to their home and their friends. This was not how she had planned to leave their family home!
Playfully grabbing Hannah’s ankles, Gloria tugged Hannah’s legs and pulled her toward the edge of the bed. “You’re going to be late for school.”
“I don’t want to go to school. Can’t I stay here with you?” Hannah hesitated. “I hate school.”
“Already?” Gloria tapped the tip of Hannah’s nose. “I didn’t expect that kind of talk until you were at least a few years older. Besides, you said that about your last school. Give it a chance. Remember what I told you: make it your own adventure.”
“I keep having that same dream, the one about the pirates and me on the ship with the Captain. Was my dad a real pirate, a captain of a ship for real?”
Gloria smiled, remembering the game Hank and Hannah used to play every night. There were times she honestly thought Hank enjoyed it as much, if not more, than Hannah.
“I’ve told you this, what seems now like a hundred times: your dad used to play that game with you nearly every night. Instead of reading a story, he would act out the pirate game, and you would play along. Sometimes, if he were home, you would play the game with him just to play it. It was one of your favorites.” Gloria looked at her daughter, puzzled. “Why are you asking about this now?”
“Cause I dreamt about it again last night, and I dream that same dream a lot!”
“I’m not sure why you’re holding on
to that particular memory so much.” Hesitating, as if wondering if it were the right thing to say, Gloria quickly added, “You really should be outgrowing that by now; you’re a big girl!”
Hannah gave her the oddest look, insulted that she should throw her memories, dreams, or whatever they happened to be out the window just because she’d turned eight. It was the first time in her young life that Hannah inadvertently felt ashamed for loving the pirate game. Maybe it was a dumb game for little kids; she’d never thought about having to outgrow it before. From now on she’d keep her daydreams, dreams, and whatever was left of her memories and secrets to herself. Gloria, sick of the subject, turned her attention back toward the issue of school.
“Again, please hurry up and finish getting dressed.”
It was Hannah’s third school since they’d first moved away from their hometown. With each move Gloria had increased her wages, and even earned a promotion, allowing them to move into a better neighborhood with better living accommodations, which was high on Gloria’s list. Her main priority was to keep Hannah in a safe environment, where she could play and meet other kids her age, and she didn’t have to worry as much as if they lived in a bad part of town. Hannah had turned from the adventurous little girl who used to play pirate and take charge commanding her make-believe crew on her make-believe ship, to an observer as she continually tried to adjust and fit in. Making friends for Gloria was easy; she was well liked no matter where she went and fortunately often moved to locations where she knew at least one or two coworkers from previous hospitals or had received recommendations from such. Hannah wasn’t so lucky; each time they packed up their things and moved, little by little she started to shut down. Gloria assured herself it was nothing more than an adjustment phase, and Hannah would bounce back to her usual outgoing, adventurous self in no time at all.
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