AN: Thank you all for your patience with me as I try to get back into the swing of things. I hope you enjoy.
I'm spending my time pacing back and forth in my cell, I would normally just do some push-ups or even yoga, but I just got done with my shower and I don't want to smell sweaty for today's visit. It's Christmas, and for the first time in years I'm not spending it alone.
My lawyers helped pull a few strings for me, and got me into a prison art therapy class so I could actually make the presents for Miles and Tris, otherwise I would have been limited to what I could do. If I'm being honest, I enjoyed the art class a lot, and plan on keeping up with it while I'm still here. I draw a lot with pen and ink in my cell, but it was so much different having all of the supplies you could think of available at my disposal.
Miles loves old Godzilla movies, something I learned around our fourth visit, so on subsequent visits I was able to borrow several titles from the prison library, and we'd watch them as a family during our visitation. I could tell that Tris didn't necessarily love the movies the way Miles and I do, but she's a good sport and would spend her Saturday's and Sunday's curled on a couch with us.
It could easily be our life if I get out of here.
When I get out of here.
There's been a definite shift in things since we've had these family visits, and even more so since Tris admitting out loud weeks ago that I am more than just a case to her. She's slightly more relaxed with me, and our conversations no longer feel like she's a shrink analyzing my life. It feels more like a former couple reconnecting after years apart.
Tyson came by yesterday, catching me completely off guard by showing up on Christmas Eve. My entire team is dedicated to my case, but Tyson is something special with how hard he works on even the smallest details to ensure I have the best possible shot of getting out of here. We talked about a lot yesterday, including him finally putting his own odds on each option I have right now for going home. He feels we have a very strong case for appeal, and he actually doesn't want to see me paroled. He explained parole without a judge hearing a new case would make it harder to ever get my record cleared, and as Tyson and Tris both keep reminding me – I'm actually innocent.
That's a hard pill for me to swallow. I've argued that I was right in Erudite with her, and that I had helped her by administering serums, but they both hold steadfast to the fact that I never knew what was going on.
It's easier for me to apologize for my part in it than for me to believe I didn't do anything wrong.
One thing Tyson pressed me on again were my plans after prison. I told him the same thing I had mentioned to Tris, that I would like to work with at-risk youth, helping them in some way to avoid the path that I ended up taking. I explained I'd ultimately love to be part of an after school program, or even some sort of club for youth, giving them a place to go that gets them away from the call of the streets or other trouble when they don't have a solid adult in their life.
He loved the idea, and even offered to go to Johanna on my behalf to offer his recommendation for me working with her.
Housing was a different story. I don't have any close friends or family here, outside of Tris and Miles and when I mentioned that I was hoping to be able to stay with her he bristled. He didn't mince words, he said if I was thinking of pursuing something with Tris, even as simple as being her roommate so that I could be close to my son, that I needed to stop having therapy sessions with her and immediately ask for a new therapist.
I promised him I would think about it. Honestly, I'm not ready for that yet, especially if she doesn't feel the way I do. I need to find some way to get confirmation if Tris is feeling what I am, and if she truly is I'd be willing to see a different therapist in order to pursue a relationship with her.
Just not today, it's Christmas, the first one I will spend with my son.
The housing situation does weigh in the back of my mind, only because if I am somehow able to get out of here, without a permanent place to live I'll end up in one of the halfway houses run by the government. This worries me, because there are a lot of people who have been moved to those places who don't particularly like me.
I look over at the two pictures I have carefully stored in between pieces of cardboard. I wasn't able to wrap them, which is okay with me, but I've been protecting them obsessively since I finished them. I created a vivid picture of Godzilla for Miles, using colored pencils from the art class I had been enrolled in. It's a recreation of one of the movie covers, and I surprised myself with how well it turned out. I just hope he likes it, there's a huge part of me that is disappointed that I'm stuck in here and can't give him the latest toys or video games other fathers can give their sons, but this is a start.
I decided to make something for Tris too, and it was as if the drawing had a mind of its own once the thought entered my brain. Amity became a focal point for her and me, it seems to be the place our relationship would have truly started had those factionless not tried to kill me on the train that day. When I began her drawing it had to be the tree, the huge tree that was a central gathering place in the former faction, and it symbolized the peace the faction practiced.
It also symbolized hope.
I used only charcoal for her drawing, giving it a slight haunted look, but it came to life beautifully on the paper. The instructor of the art class was a certified art therapist, and I could tell he wanted to get into my head when he saw how much time and thought I put into my two pictures, but I kept mostly everything about the tree to myself. He was nice enough to use some sort of spray sealer on both, and for that I am very appreciative. I just hope they like it.
Today I am escorted to a smaller family visitation room, without the bells and whistles of the larger room, however it still has some basics. We have a couch, a TV, a small table to eat at, a kitchenette and there's a bathroom attached as well. I feel fortunate to have been able to reserve it, and I am nervously waiting at the table for my family to be brought in.
Tris and Miles were both holding bags, so I immediately stood to help them. Once we're alone in the room I learned that Tris had brought a homemade meal of roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans and rolls, along with a small cake from their favorite bakery.
"Dad, Mom says we have to eat before we can have presents." Miles says as he hangs his jacket on the back of a chair.
"With as good as all of this smells, I am perfectly fine with that." I answer and Tris smiles at me.
She hands me an elastic, and we both pull our long hair up in buns. We sit at the small table and dig in to the meal.
"What did Santa bring you this year?" I ask Miles and his face immediately lights up.
"I got a skateboard from Santa!" He begins excitedly, "I also got a new video game, and lots of stuff for the skateboard Dad. Like trucks, bearings, oh and new grip tape…" He goes into detail about the items he will be working on changing on his board, and Tris and I both smile as we look on.
I had tried to give her money from my commissary to help with the board, but she refused, however she and I did spend part of a therapy session poring over a catalog together so I could help her pick out the appropriate parts.
"This meal is delicious, thank you for making all of this and bringing it to me." I tell Tris and she smiles.
"Miles helped a lot, he made the gravy and mashed the potatoes." She says and I look over at my beaming son.
"I did!" He says before eating more green beans.
We finish our meal and get everything put away and Miles is almost dancing with excitement as he brings his present over to me. I unwrap the package and find a composition book, but upon opening the book I am surprised to see my son's handwriting.
"I wrote you a book. Well, they're stories, you don't need to read them now though Dad. It's for when they make you go back to your room, you have stuff to look at so you're not bored. I made some pictures in there for you too." He explains as he crawls into my lap to show me some of his work, "No, don't read it now!" He scolds when I stop on one of his stories, "It's for later."
"Yes sir. Thank you Miles, I love this bud." I wrap my arms around him and kiss his head, "Your present is right over there." I gesture towards the counter, where I have both his and Tris' presents sitting in their individual cardboard sleeves, one with Miles' name and one with Tris'.
He brings them both over and hands his mother the one with her name. I nod at both of them and Miles opens his first.
"Whoa. How did you get this?" He asks in awe.
"I made it, just like we promised each other." I reply and watch as he shows Tris the picture excitedly.
"Dad, you are really, really, really, really good. This looks awesome. Mom, can we put it in my room? Or the playroom, that way my friends can see it when they come over? Oh my gosh this is so good Dad."
"Wow, Eric that is amazing." Tris says, "You are truly talented."
"Open yours Mom." Miles says as he pushes hers onto her lap.
He moves to sit with me, and I hold my breath as she carefully opens the cardboard. Her breath hitches once she sees the picture and she shakes her head.
"You did this?" She asks quietly.
"Yeah." I look down at the ground. Miles moves from me to his mom and I hear another "Whoa" come from him.
"Wow Dad." Miles says with wide eyes, "Mom, you're crying."
"It's beautiful." Tris says and I grab a napkin and hand it to her so she can wipe her tears, "Eric, how? It's just like I remember it."
"Mom, are you okay?" Miles asks and I watch her nod at him, "Then why are you crying?"
"It's… wow… okay… Miles this tree is in a park now, but when your dad and I were kids this was in the middle of the Amity faction. This is where they would have their meetings, and their celebrations, everything." Tris explains.
"But you and Dad were Dauntless, right?" He asks, glancing between the two of us.
"We were…" She trails off, and I find her hazel eyes trained on me.
"Miles, we explained to you how I got this, right?" I ask, pointing at my scar and he nods his head, "Had those bad guys not made it onto that train, your mom and I would have made it to Amity."
"To where the tree is?" He asks and I nod, "You guys were going to live there?"
"We were." Tris says, working on composing herself.
"Would they have come and arrested you from there, Dad?" Miles asks. I look at Tris and she nods once.
"They would have probably come to talk to your mom and me. Remember how I told you my mom was a bad lady?" I ask and he nods again, "She had kept your mom away from me, and she was trying to hurt her. So I'm pretty sure that the police would have wanted to talk to me about that situation, and they definitely would have wanted to talk to your mom since she was the victim."
Miles looks thoughtful, and he is quiet for several seconds. He is usually a ball of energy, so watching him sit still and quietly contemplate what I've said scares me a bit.
"You helped my mom. You didn't do the bad stuff that your mom did, I learned that in history class, and also from our family. I don't understand why they put you in jail." He finally says.
Time to be honest.
"They put me here because I wouldn't cooperate with the investigation." I admit and I can see Tris react out of my peripheral, but I can't look at her right now, "When they asked me questions, I refused to answer them. I was angry, and I was tired of having to talk about the things that Jeanine did. I made a mistake, Miles, I made a huge mistake back then because I was too much of a coward to do what was right."
"I heard Nana and Mom talking one night…." He trails off and glances at his mother.
"It's okay Miles, you can talk about whatever is on your mind." Tris encourages him and I try to turn my pensive face into something a bit more approachable.
"Did Jack really put Dad in jail?" Miles asks.
I'm not letting Tris answer this.
"I put myself in jail." I answer and Tris widens her eyes, "Miles, this is adult stuff, I'm just going to say that up front, but you have a right to know. Jack had no choice, when I refused to cooperate with the investigation, he had to sentence me to jail. That's what the law says to do, and Jack upholds the law. I refused to lie for my mother, or her friends, because they were horrible people. I also refused to tell the truth to save myself."
"Do you wish you had a do-over?" Miles asks. It's not what I expected, but I appreciate the easier question.
"Miles, if I had a do-over I would have absolutely made different decisions. I would have told the truth, I would have been brave, and I would have come home and been there when you were growing up. I'm sorry Miles, my decisions back then impacted you. I wasn't there for you because I made mistakes, and I was angry at myself for a very long time. I'm very sorry."
He looks at me with his wide grey eyes, and it's like looking at a younger version of myself. I refuse to look away and I hold my breath waiting for him to say anything.
"I accept your apology Dad. I wish you had been there, but Mom says we should only look forward. I can do that, can you?" He asks.
I let out the breath I was holding, "Yes, I can. Thank you, son." I reply and he hugs me like always.
I'm an incredibly lucky man.