*Do not mourn lost time; make the most of what you have left*
(Thanks to Desiree Fox and Talenwolf for their help)
(A little background)
My name is Joshua Beverly. I'm a twenty-nine year old white architect living in the City. I've got sandy brown hair, brown eyes, weigh 210 and am 6' 2". I went to school near here but did four years in the Marines before coming back and going to college for my architecture degree. Due to my financial situation I was able to start my own little firm. I'm not making tons of money, but I keep busy and pay the bills.
When my Dad was eighteen he had a fling with a sixteen year old foster kid, my Mom. He had his fun, dumped her and went back to his privileged life. The only problem was that she showed up at his doorstep pregnant. Dad freaked. Grandmother and Grandfather went ballistic. They made my Dad marry my Mom. They were social prominent but not the kind to abort a potential grandchild. Four years later they had a second child, my sister Natalie.
After that, my history gets fuzzy for reasons that will be obvious. A year after Natalie was born Mom caught my father and one his co-workers having sex and killed them both. She was found guilty of two counts of manslaughter and lost all parental rights to my grandparents. I never saw my mother again and my only history of my life with her was from my grandparents' perspective; not the most unbiased account of what happened.
Now I live in a Brownstone in the heart of the Old City; my grandparent's place. My Grandfather died five years ago and Grandmother's mental health went down rapidly and now lives in a hospice. I visit her once a week but she doesn't recognize me anymore. I had a girlfriend, Robin Turnery, until four months ago when we had serious commitment issues. Since then I've been alone and unsexed. Natalie is going for her doctorate at one of the local universities and we meet at least once a week as well. She's has no one serious in her life either. That's me in a nutshell.
(The Start)
I'm finishing up a project for a client in Osaka Japan when my phone rings with a number from MarWCF, whatever that is.
"Hello?" I answer.
"This is Marymount Women's Correctional Facility," a voice responds. "Your conversation will be monitored."
"Um ... okay?" I say. Who the hell do I know in a women's prison?
"Joshua Beverly?" a female voice asks.
"Yes and you are?" I reply.
"Sienna Beverly," the woman tells me. It takes a microsecond for that name to register; Mom.
"Joshua?" the woman inquires after I haven't said anything for fifteen seconds. "Are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm here. I never thought to hear from you again. What do you want?" I respond.
"I want to know if you can come down to Marymount and talk to me. I have something I want to ask you," she requests. For twenty-four years this woman has been out of my life and now this.
In the end I can't forget that she's technically still my Mom.
"Sure; when do you want me to come down?" I answered. I could hear her sigh of relief.
"Tuesday around eleven," she informs me.
"See you then Sienna," I say before hanging up.
I phone my sister and tell her about the call. She got the same call and hung up. She advises me to not go; that if Mom hasn't bothered to contact us in over twenty years we'd be better off not talking to her now. She is going to want something and we have zero reason to give her it. I do remind her that she brought us into this world and we have no idea what our grandparents put her through. She sighs, gives up and wishes me luck.
(Tuesday)
I arrive at the prison and have a truly interesting time. The prison authorities tell me all kinds of fun things like 'don't get in fights with inmates' and 'always obey the guards', both of which sound like common sense to me. The search doesn't involve an anal probe and I'm thankful for that. I am surprised by the sheer number of male guards in a women's prison.
I admit to having a preconceive notion of what a mother should look like. In the wedding pictures I've seen (the grandparents didn't keep many of her pictures around) she's tall and willowy, with fine long red hair, green eyes and looking so young and full of hope. I haven't a clue about what I'm going to see.
I walk into the communal meeting room and see various female inmates in orange jumpsuits talking to family, lawyers, or friends. I scan around looking for who could possibly be my mother. I notice this one woman staring at me. She's got short cropped red hair, has a serious addiction to weightlifting and must weigh two hundred pounds. She's definitely a big girl and covers it up with some serious body art.
She's still staring at me; burning a hole straight through me in fact. She stands up and I meet the gaze of those green eyes. It is my Mom -- oh fuck! I notice she doesn't leave the table. By the rules she isn't allowed to. Twenty-five years in prison has made my Mom a hard bitch, but I'm not going to walk away having driven all this way to see her.
"Sienna," I say as I walk up. She keeps staring at me. "Sienna Beverly?"
"Oh God," she whispers, "You look just like your Father." A lot of people tell me that. I sit down opposite her and she follows suit.
"Fuck, you are so hot," Sienna tells me flat out. I'm flabbergasted.
"You're my Mother," I gasp and she looks amused.
"I never stopped loving your Father," she chuckles. I guess that is her form of an apology. "All these years and I still remember him the way I did the first time we met."
"What about how he looked the night you killed him?" I accuse her.
"That was a long time ago," she tells me evenly. That is clearly a sore point.
"Okay, why am I here?" I ask. Sienna looks incredibly grim, even nervous.
"I need a favor," she admits. I wait for her to continue. "I'm coming up for parole in a week and it would really help my case if I had a home and job on the outside."
There, it was out in the open and she looks relieved to have said if not terribly confident. She has fierce eyes and her bodily language is that of a fighter.
"So you haven't contacted me in twenty five years and now you want to move in and have me get you a job?" I question her.
"Yes," she grunts. I'm looking for some clue but the woman has no softness to her. She's not begging me for any sympathy.
"Why me?" I question.
"I called Natalie but she wouldn't take my call. You two are all I have," she confesses.
"Okay," I tell her.
"Okay?' she arches an eyebrow.
"I'll show up for the parole meeting, give you a place to live and get you a job," I explain.
"Just like that," she stammers before she recovers her hard exterior.
"Yes. You are still my Mother and I'm your Son. I've got a room in the house you can use and I can give you a job as my book keeper until you can find something better," I promise her.
She clearly can't believe I'm real.
"What am I going to do Sienna? Leave you here because my grandparents hated you?" I continue.
"No ... thank you Joshua. You won't regret this," she says smiling for the first time. Even smiling she is still kind of scary. I stand up to leave and she does too. I realize she's coming round the table and sticking out her hand. I look at it, close with her and give her a hug. Her whole body tenses up but she manages to pat me on the back.
Note: grabbing a tough prison bitch without her knowledge can be fatal. I realize this when I step back and note her hands are bunched up into fists and her body is poised to strike.
