The Row(16)

Stacia is awkwardly shy and a little backward, but she’s very loyal, and that’s what matters. Her feet shift side to side as she keeps her eyes on the floor. She seems even more uncomfortable than usual, and for Stacia, that’s saying something.

“It’s okay. I’m sure I don’t have much time left to worry about whether or not I should spread my visitors out better.” He smiles at her, but the sadness and fear behind it take my breath away.

I’ve never heard Daddy talk like this. He’s always been so full of hope. He never talks about the end or how much time he has left. Seeing him like this is more terrifying than anything the judge said in the courtroom yesterday. A cold sweat starts on the back of my neck and my heart speeds up in my chest.

“I-I’m so sorry to have to interrupt with this…” Stacia lifts her hand to him and I see she clutches a white envelope. It’s pressed so tight between her fingers that each one has left a deep crease. Her eyes flit to me. “To both of you.”

Daddy reaches for it. I see the return address on the envelope with the words Supreme Court of the United States and everything slows down as he opens it.

We weren’t expecting to hear back on the certiorari today. It is our true Hail Mary pass. And now that I know all the answers are in that envelope, I suddenly hope for something drastic to stop us from seeing what it holds. I hope for a fire drill, or a meteor, or the end of the world—whatever it takes to prevent us from reading the answer.

Anything to keep our last scrap of hope alive right now, because I am not ready to lose it.

The paper he removes isn’t thick, and even from the opposite side of the table I can read the word DENIED in bold, panic-inducing letters.

That single word removes one of our two remaining options, and I can’t help but feel like someone just ripped off my right leg. It’s painful. I feel shockingly off balance.

Daddy reads the entire thing slowly. Then he folds it, puts it back in the envelope, and hands it to Stacia. “Thank you … for everything.”

She grips the paper with both hands and her eyes are damp, but she can’t seem to find any words to say.

Daddy saves her from that task. “I’d like to get back to my visit with Riley now, but thank you very much for coming.” His words are kind, but his tone is exhausted and lightly dismissive.

“Of course.” Stacia looks down, backs toward the door, and knocks on it. She looks like she failed him, and I feel a sick hope rising up that maybe she did. She’s been helping with his case. Maybe she messed something up? We might have another chance at appeal if that were true, and I would do almost anything for that chance right now.

I close my eyes, disgusted with my thoughts. Stacia cares about my father. I truly wouldn’t want her to have made a mistake. She would never forgive herself for that.

“I’ll come back on Monday,” she murmurs as the guard opens the door for her. Then Stacia ducks out through the doorway without waiting for a response.

Daddy stares down at the table in silence as the door clicks closed again, and I wonder if he’s forgotten that I’m here.

I swallow back all the fear and dread that threaten to clog up my throat, forcing my voice to come out steady. “Well, I guess the plan I wanted to put together just got even more important.”

“Let’s not plan, Riley.” Daddy closes his eyes and his head hangs forward to rest on his chest for a moment. He looks drained. He’s always been a handsome guy, but lately, everything seems to be catching up with him. When he opens his eyes again, they’ve gone from dull to almost vacant. My stomach clenches just seeing them. What small amount of hope he may have retained after the hearing yesterday just left him—right here in front of me.

That thought terrifies me, so I push forward, my words spilling out over one another in their rush to escape. “I think maybe we should plan out some kind of campaign, you know? See if we can get other people involved, maybe from other states. Have people write to the governor with us and ask him for a stay. I think that outside of Texas people are more likely to—”

“Riley—” Daddy tries to interrupt, but I don’t let him.

“Because in Texas, executions are just too common and people are used to it. Plus, I was wondering, is there any chance that anyone on your legal team messed something up?”

“You have to listen—” Daddy frowns, tilting in toward me, and so I lean back. For the first time ever, I’m fine with pissing him off. Let him get frustrated. That I can handle. What scares me right now is hearing the utter defeat in his voice.

“And you already have so many people from other countries who write to you here. I know they’re all strangers, and probably more than a few are totally nuts, but they’re fascinated with your story and say they’re on your side. Warden Zonnberg told me.” I lurch forward and wonder if I’m blinking at all because my eyes are starting to burn. “We can get them to write, too, and I think with that many—”

“Enough, Riley!” Daddy barks, and the guard in the hall hammers his fist on the door and looks in the small window to make sure I’m okay.

When I wave him off, the guard relaxes, and I watch my father closely. He has never once raised his voice to me—not once. I don’t know how to respond or even what to say to that, so I cross my arms and wait.

“I don’t think this is good for you anymore … and it’s definitely not healthy for your mother,” he starts.