You walk in, slowly, cautiously, both panic and relief searing through your bones. Panic because of what you fear she's come to tell you, relief because it's been 5 long years since you last saw her and her tear stained face wave goodbye to you in the hospital. You hang back as the prisoners in front of you part like the red sea and then you see her and you can't help but let a small smile sneak onto your lips.
She's sat there, legs crossed, arms folded, judging the other prisoners and their lives. She's got a white fur coat on, pink bow in her hair, nails painted a blood red. She looks ridiculous but it comforts you. This is the first bit of normal you've seen in 5 years and you're glad to see she's not changed a bit.
It's then that she sees you, stands up and pulls her tightly fitted dress down, wriggling from side to side as she does so. You've got your poker face on now. You have to, it's how you survive, it's how you've always survived. She opens her arms for a hug but you not going to give her one, no matter how much you just want to be held. You point to the seat that she'd flicked back and watch as she sits down before you calmly take your own seat.
She looks upset, hurt, maybe even offended but she doesn't understand what it's like to be away from the people you love. She'll never understand and you don't want her to, that's why you're in here after all. You keep your distance. Your legs are outstretched slightly but your arms remain close, hands gripping the sides of the metal chair.
She can't keep up the façade for long though and before you know it her arms are openly sprawled out on the table that separates you.
"How are you love?"
Simple question or at least it would be in normal circumstances. You can see her look to the cut above your right eye and you smile downwardly. "Every day's a party day Chez."
"Your hurt."
"I'm fine." You say, because you are. You're finally finding some inner peace, your paying your dues and it's been a long time coming. You are fine. Nothing more, nothing less. "You should see the other guy…"
She doesn't say anything. Knows that she can't. She doesn't really have the right to. "So…" You begin. "You had some news. Urgent, you said." You watch as she nods and your gut sinks slightly. "Are you…you're ok yeah?"
"Yeah I'm fine."
You gulp and crick your neck. "Is…is…" You can't bring yourself to say his name. Haven't uttered it for 5 years. You couldn't because he is your one weakness and you can't be weak. Not here.
"Ste's fine babe."
Relief swims through your body. Your limbs loosen as you close your eyes and exhale. She's ok, he's ok, you know you're kids are ok. You stand up suddenly. "Then you can have nothing more to say." You turn around, need to head back to your cell before you spend enough time with her to miss her when she's gone. Although you know that you already do.
"No Bren wait!" You stop in your tracks and turn around. "Please…I'm here now aren't I? We might as well…you know talk." Your sceptical. "And I do have some news."
Your eyes shift from left to right and you realise you've caught the attention of some prisoners and some of the guards. You can't make a scene so instead you nod and stride back over, sitting down. You stare at her, waiting for her to speak but instead she slides a small photo over to you. You pick it up with delicate fingers and allow a brief smile. "This him?"
She nods sadly. "So you do read my letters then?" You sigh and place the picture of the small child back down on the table, sliding it back over with your index finger. She picks it up and places it back in her bag. "He looks just like his Uncle Brendan doesn't he?" You manage to huff out a small laugh and you can sense by the look on her face that there's more. "We got him christened last week. Brendan Tenbury-Newant. Ste's his godfather. Says he's got your eyes."
You tense immediately at hearing his name again and you look over accusingly. "Why you here Chez? You made it sound like you had a life threatening illness…"
She shrugs, unashamedly. "I knew you'd never agree to see me if I didn't." And she was right because you've spent five years knocking back prison visit orders from her and St…Steven. "And someones life is in danger."
You arch your neck and sit up, your heart rate accelerating. "Go on…"
"It's Ste."
You churn your hand in front of her, signalling her to move on, give you more. Panic is already laced in your eyes and she must have noticed because she's quick to try and put you at ease.
"No, his life's not in danger or anything. At least, not anymore."
"What do you mean 'not anymore'?" You know you shouldn't ask but you can't help it. This is what you feared when you'd agreed to the order. You feared that she'd mention his name and you wouldn't be able to help yourself until you found out every last detail about him. Like you said, he is your weakness. Your kryptonite.
"Well…" She begins playing with the wedding band that sits tightly on her ring finger. "When, you…you know…" And you do. You think about it every day. "Went away…he, couldn't cope. And he got in with the wrong crowd. Selling drugs…getting in fights…" No, no, no. This isn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to move on, be better off, get his kids back, live his life. "He was trying to get money together to buy the club."
"The club? Why?"
"Because it's where he felt closest to you. He said it felt like home." She smiled sadly and you have to look away because if you don't, you might break and you can't allow that, won't allow it. "Then one day he tried to rip off the wrong person and…"
She trails off but you want her to continue, as much as you can probably fill in the gaps. "He got hurt. Badly. Got beaten to within an inch of his life."
You feel your fists tighten, your stomach twists, you chew on the side of your mouth to try to stop the inevitable twitch that is about to come. "Name."
"What?"
"What's his fucking name Chez?" You need to know. If he's in here, you'll take great pleasure in killing him and if he's out there, then you need to make damn sure somebody else does.
"Nobody knows Bren. Ste wouldn't say and, well to be honest, we've all moved on now. It was well over 18months ago. In fact, it probably gave him the push he needed to get out of that world."
"My world you mean." You think out loud and finally feel the touch of Cheryl's skin on yours as she rubs your loose hand.
"He's met someone." It comes like a bolt from the blue. You expected it, it's what you wanted for him to be cared for, looked after but it doesn't stop it from stabbing you straight in the heart. You've been shot at, punched, kicked but nothing can compare to the pain that you feel right now, in this moment, hearing those three little words.
"His name's Chris…" Christopher. "He works in accountancy." Money grabber. "He's kind." Boring. "He's sweet." Sleazy. "And he really cares about Ste."
You clench your jaw and take a breath. "Why Chez? Why are you telling me this?"
"Because he has the chance to be happy Bren. But as much as he tries, he can't be. He doesn't say it but…it's like he feels like he's betraying you."
"What do you want me to do Chez? I've told him to let go. I've rebuked all of his visits. Sent back all of his letters. What more can I possibly do?"
"See him." She says. Like it's just that simple. "See him and give him closure. Help him to move on."
You shuffle in your seat and a sad, manic smile flickers on your face, it's the only thing that's stopping you from screaming. See him. Just like that. You don't trust yourself to push him away. It's easier with bits of paper but if you see those eyes looking at you, pleading with you…you know that it's neon impossible. You've already done it once, in the hospital as you watched them drag him away. You won't be able to do it again. "I can't." You force out finally. "I can't see him."
"But Bren…"
"I can't!" You repeat, louder and with more force this time. Your eyes are wide and frenzied. "It's out of the question."
It's then that you both hear the bell ring, calling time on your meeting. She looks at you, something like disappointment tinged in her eyes. She closes her bag and nods forbearingly. "Fine." She says as she stands up. "But if you love him as much as I think you do, you'll let him. Because he didn't deserve any of this."
She turns around and you rub your face harshly, her last words ringing in your ears. You bare your teeth and call out her name. "Chez!" She turns back around and looks at you hopefully. "Would he die for him?"
"What?"
"Christopher. Would he put his life on the line….Would he die for him?"
She shrugs. "You'd have to ask him that."
You nod, maybe you will. "Set it up." You say simply as you stand. "I want to meet him."