The Bitter Cost of Securing Safety for the Family I Broke
The sixth year began with a long, brutal winter.
The snow started falling in November and did not stop until February.
The yard was closed for weeks at a time because of the ice.
We were confined to our cells for twenty-three hours a day.
Joseph, my cellmate, had grown frail.
His hands shook when he held his books, and he spent most of his time sleeping.
I spent my time looking out the narrow window.
The sky was the color of lead.
On a Tuesday morning in late January, the guard tapped on the iron bars of my door.
“DeLuca,” he said.
“Get your jacket.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You have a visitor,” the guard said.
“In the main visiting room.”
I stood up, my knees stiff from the cold.
“I do not have any visitors on my list,” I said.
“Just get your jacket,” the guard repeated.
I pulled the denim jacket over my uniform.
I followed him down the long corridor, my boots squeaking on the clean linoleum.
The prison was quiet.
Most of the inmates were still in their cells because of the weather.