“Well, if you really feel bad about it, you can always help with my case. It’s not like I have a whole lot of people in my corner right now. I just know Val has my back and she was the only one who stood up when I needed her” Kerry said, looking into her mother’s eyes.
“What am I supposed to do? Put my house up to bust you out of here?” Thirjane whispered angrily.
“You know I have money. It’s not about that.”
“I’m an old woman. I’m not cut out for this. I have Tyrian and he’s already a handful. Between his grades and acting up in school, I’m just holding on here.” Thirjane’s voice weakened like she was about to cry.
“Right. Sure.” Kerry was getting tired and she refused to placate her mother.
The buzzer sounded over the loudspeaker in the room, letting the inmates and visitors know visiting time was over.
As the guards started walking through the room to facilitate the proper good-bye procedures, Thirjane reached out and held Kerry’s hand.
“I’m really sorry about this,” she said with her wrinkled, diamond ring–clad fingers shaking a little under early symptoms of palsy. “More sorry than you’ll ever know.”
Tyrian appeared and hugged his mother with his arms around her neck. He was already crying. He knew what the buzzer meant.
“I want to stay here with you,” Tyrian mumbled in his mother’s ear. “I promise I won’t pee in the bed.”
Kerry kissed him on the cheek. “It’s not about that, baby. You just can’t stay here. That’s not how it works.”
“But you didn’t kill my daddy. You shouldn’t have to stay here,” Tyrian said a little louder.
“What?” Kerry backed up and looked at him hard. “Where did you hear that?” She looked at her mother, who shrugged.
“In school. Matthew Warrenstein said you did it—said you killed my father, but I know it’s not true, Mama. I know you didn’t do that.”
“No. I didn’t.” Kerry’s hand was wet from wiping away both her and Tyrian’s tears. “And you don’t believe that. You don’t listen to those boys at that school. You understand?”
“Yes.”
The room was clearing out and a guard walked past to give Kerry a sharp stare before she came back to inform her that it was absolutely time for her guests to depart.
“I’ll see you next time.” Kerry tried to loosen Tyrian’s arms from around her neck, but he wouldn’t let go.
“No! Mama! No!”
“Don’t do this,” she said, feeling his heartbeat quickening against hers. “Please.”
“No!”
Thirjane stood and put her purse over her shoulder before reaching for Tyrian. Once she touched him, the boy started hollering and tightening his hold around his mother’s neck.
“No, Mama! No! Don’t make me go! I can stay. I’ll be good. I won’t pee in the bed!”
His tears were coming too quickly for Kerry to wipe them, so she started the heartbreaking task of peeling her son’s powerless, pencil-thin arms from around her neck.
“No, Mama! Don’t!”
She closed her eyes to escape the scene.
The boy’s hollering turned to something like funeral wailing. It went deep down to his gut and sprang out with so much register the guards knew there was no way his grandmother would be able to get him out of that room by herself.
“No! No! No!” Kerry cried when two guards stepped in to pull Tyrian away. “Please don’t. Please!”
“Mama! No!” Tyrian hollered furiously with the guards, who were nice enough, calling him “son” and such, physically lifting him off of the ground and carrying him away from his mother, kicking and screaming.
Kerry left the catastrophic farewell a wreck. She was crying so hard, the other inmates just moved out of her way as she headed back to her cell. They’d heard Tyrian’s screams. It was a mother’s pain too many of them knew. They made a little pathway for Kerry to walk along, undisturbed. Some showed support by patting her shoulder knowingly as she passed. Others called out, “It’ll be okay” and “Be strong.” It was one of those moments when being a woman or being a mother superseded all other circumstances and surroundings for these inmates in a jailhouse.