Spring 2019
Marilyn had been in the same prison for the last five and a half years, since not long after her sentencing hearing in Philadelphia. In that time, she'd made a place for herself.
It had taken a while, especially fighting through the haze of medications. Eventually, her doctors had switched her prescriptions again, and she soon found the clouds clearing. Every day, she still felt the open wound of Peter's absence from her life, but it hurt less and less as the years went on.
She'd even taken correspondence classes through a community college for an Associate's Degree, thinking maybe she could get a better job than she'd had before once she got out. For now, she filled her days working in the laundry room, reading, and taking in whatever other entertainment she could get her hands on. The other women were nice enough, but she mostly kept to herself.
It was an early morning on one of the visitation days. Women around her were excited to get to see their families and children, but she never had any visitors. Who was left that would visit her?
Her head shot up as one of the guards called her name. "Marilyn, come on!"
"Me?" she asked, still disbelieving even though she was the only Marilyn in the wing.
"Let's go," the guard said, and she quickly fell in with the other women who had visitors.
They were escorted to the large public visitation room, which resembled a high school cafeteria more than anything else. Women began walking up to loved ones and hugged them briefly before sitting down for their minimum-contact visits. Her eyes scanned the room, trying to see if any faces popped out of the crowd. What if this was all a big mistake?
And then she saw it. Him . He'd grown since she last saw him, lost the rest of his baby fat, styled his hair differently, held himself in a straighter posture… but she'd know him anywhere.
Peter .
They made eye contact, and a large smile broke out across her face as she rushed over.
She wanted to hug him, but he made no move to get up, so she sat in the seat across from him instead. Her hands itched to grasp his, to feel him, solid and warm and there . As if he sensed what she was thinking, he pulled his hands back, too.
He still hadn't smiled, or changed his expression at all. His features were carefully schooled, as if he didn't want to give anything away. But she had always been able to read him. She could see the nerves and curiosity bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Peter," she whispered, loving how the name felt on her lips.
He winced. "You know that's not my name," he said, not harshly though. "I was never actually Peter."
She nodded, then shook her head. "But you were still my little boy. We still - you still loved me. I took care of you." She was almost pleading.
"No, I wasn't. You didn't... how can you say you loved me when you did that to me? When you took me away?" His voice rose slightly, but no guards moved to intervene.
"I needed you! And you - you needed me, too. I did everything for you!"
He looked like he wanted to cry. "God, everyone said this was a mistake, but I thought - I thought that maybe… They said you were better, you'd found meds that worked."
"You checked up on me?"
He nodded, but didn't look up at her.
"I am," she said. "How… how are you?"
"I'm… really good," he finally said, and she saw a smile on his face. The smile erased all of the tension and fear, and brought her back years and years to the little boy she'd loved. "I graduated college two years ago. I work in theatre." He paused, seemingly unsure if he should keep going. "I have a boyfriend. We've been together for six years now."
Marilyn smiled. "I'm glad that you're happy. That's all I ever wanted. For you to be happy."
"Then why did you do it?" He looked just as surprised at the words that came out of his mouth as Marilyn was to hear them.
They were both silent for a long moment. She couldn't look up at him, couldn't meet his eyes. Instead, she focused on his hands, fidgeting and making fists on the table between them.
"I just want an explanation," he said quietly. "For why you did it, why you took me."
"I loved you. I do love you, Petey-"
"I'm not Peter! I was never Peter, but you took me and terrified me, and you can't even apologize?"
She froze. It broke her heart to see her boy so upset.
"I'm sorry," she finally said in a small voice. "I'm sorry that it hurt you and so many other people. But I just... I needed... I needed my little boy, and you were right there and so sweet."
He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "I - I can't…" he sighed. "Thank you, I guess. If that's the best I'm going to get." There was a long silence where neither spoke. "I'm sorry that your son and your family died. I know how much you loved them. But I just… I can't ever forget or forgive what you did to me and my family."
She stifled a sob.
"I'm glad you're doing better," he said, before getting up and walking away.
She knew that was the last time she would ever see him. Her son had died many years ago, and that young man… he had never truly been Peter, no matter how much she had wanted him to be.