Chapter 8 - The Prison Visit
Six months after Hope was born, Ryan sent a formal request through his public defender begging for a five-minute visitation at the Fremont Correctional Facility.
Against Arthur’s advice, I agreed to go.
I walked into the maximum-security visitation room dressed in an elegant dark green wool trench coat, holding my head high.
Behind the scratched Plexiglas partition sat Ryan.
He was unrecognizable. His designer clothes were gone, replaced by a drab green prison uniform; his dark hair was shaved close to the scalp, and his face was hollowed by months of hard labor and defeat.
He picked up the heavy black receiver with trembling, shackled hands.
I picked up mine.
"Claire..." Ryan wept, pressing his forehead against the glass. "Please... forgive me. I lost my mind. My father pressured me... he threatened to cut me off from the family fund! I never wanted to hurt you or our baby!"
"You held my wrists, Ryan," I said, my voice calm, level, and completely devoid of anger. "You watched your father burn my stomach, and you told me to let him teach me respect."
"I was a coward, Claire!" he sobbed. "I will spend twenty years behind these walls! Please... just let me see a picture of my daughter. Just let me know her name."
I looked at the man I had once loved, feeling nothing but profound, absolute closure.
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"Her name is Hope," I said softly. "And she will grow up knowing that a real man protects his family with love and honor, not cruelty and greed. You will never see her, Ryan. And this is the last time you will ever see me."
I hung up the receiver, stood up, and walked out into the bright Colorado sunshine without looking back.
