Back in Block D, Arthur was lying on his cot, staring at the map of South America on the ceiling. He was trying to practice a meditation technique he had read about in a library book, trying to empty his mind of all thoughts and feelings. He was failing miserably.
Suddenly, the heavy metal door of his cell clanged loudly. Arthur jolted upright.
Officer Miller stood in the doorway, his face an impenetrable mask of authority. He held a clipboard in his massive hand.
"Pendelton. On your feet," Miller barked, his voice echoing loudly in the quiet cell block.
Arthur felt a sudden spike of panic. He stood up quickly. "Officer? Is something wrong?"
"Turn around. Hands behind your back."
Arthur complied immediately, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt the cold, heavy steel of handcuffs snap around his wrists. He hadn't been in handcuffs since the day he was transported to the facility. The sound of the ratcheting metal sent a wave of nausea through him.
"What's going on, Officer Miller?" Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "I haven't done anything. Was there a problem in the laundry?"
"No talking, Pendelton," Miller said gruffly. He grabbed Arthur by the upper arm and guided him out of the cell. "Warden's office called. Disciplinary review board. You're being brought to Admin."
Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. Disciplinary review? What had he done? Had someone planted contraband in his cell? Was there an issue with his outside legal case? If he got a write-up, he would lose his phone privileges, his library access, and his chance for early parole.
"Please, Officer," Arthur pleaded as they walked down the long, gray corridor. "There has to be a mistake. I follow every rule. I keep my head down."
"I said quiet, Pendelton," Miller said, a little more softly this time, though his grip on Arthur's arm remained firm.
The walk to the administrative wing felt like a march to the gallows. They passed through three security gates, the heavy steel bars sliding open with terrible, grinding groans and slamming shut behind them with a finality that made Arthur flinch. The deeper they went into the facility, the cleaner and quieter it became. The cinderblock walls gave way to painted drywall. The concrete floors turned to cheap linoleum tile.
Arthur’s mind was racing, cataloging every single interaction he had had over the past week, searching for anything that could be construed as a rule violation. Did he take an extra piece of bread at dinner? Did he accidentally look a guard in the eye for too long?
They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door with a frosted glass window. Arthur looked at the plaque. Family Reunification Center.
He frowned, confused. "Officer? Why are we here? I thought you said disciplinary review."
"Plans changed," Miller said gruffly.
Miller reached behind Arthur and, to Arthur's absolute shock, unlocked the handcuffs. The steel bracelets fell away, leaving Arthur rubbing his sore wrists in bewilderment.
"What is going on?" Arthur asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Miller didn't answer. He just reached past Arthur, turned the handle of the wooden door, and pushed it open. He placed a hand on the center of Arthur's back and gave him a gentle shove forward.
"Happy birthday, Arthur," Miller said softly.
And then he closed the door behind him.
Arthur stood frozen just inside the doorway.
The room was warm. It smelled of vanilla, sugar, and the faint, unmistakable scent of Sarah's jasmine perfume.
He blinked, thinking his mind had finally snapped under the weight of his depression. He was hallucinating. That was the only logical explanation.
Because standing ten feet away from him, bathed in the soft glow of a floor lamp, was his wife. She was wearing the blue floral dress he loved. Her hands were covering her mouth, and tears were streaming down her face.
Next to her stood Leo, looking taller than Arthur remembered, holding a paper plate. And beside him was Lily, holding a large piece of folded construction paper, her eyes wide with awe.
On a table in the corner sat a massive cake, illuminated by four flickering candles.
There was no thick pane of bulletproof glass. There were no static-filled telephone receivers. There were no guards standing watch over their shoulders. There was nothing between them but ten feet of empty space.
"Sarah?" Arthur croaked, his voice cracking violently. He sounded like a dying man asking for water.
"Happy birthday, Artie," Sarah whispered, a sob breaking through her words.
For a second, nobody moved. The reality of the situation was too immense, too fragile, to touch. If he moved, Arthur feared the illusion would shatter, the room would dissolve back into cold concrete, and he would wake up on his hard cot.
But then Lily dropped her card. It fluttered softly to the rug.
"Daddy!" she screamed, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy that shattered the silence of the room.
She ran forward, her small feet pounding against the carpet. Arthur fell to his knees, not caring about the pain in his joints. He opened his arms just as Lily crashed into his chest.
The impact was the most incredible physical sensation Arthur had ever experienced. It was the weight of her solid little body, the frantic grip of her small arms around his neck, the smell of her hair, the heat of her tears against his collarbone. He buried his face in her shoulder and let out a raw, guttural sob that he had been holding in for eighteen months.
"My baby," he wept, rocking her back and forth. "My beautiful, beautiful girl."
A moment later, he felt a larger pair of arms wrap around his shoulders. Sarah fell to her knees beside them, burying her face in his neck. He reached out blindly, grabbing onto her, pulling her into the chaotic, desperate embrace. He felt her hands in his hair, her breath hot on his skin. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her neck, tasting salt and tears.