Despite all the anxiety I was having about finding a job, nothing could dampen the enthusiasm I had for Heather’s first official visit on Sunday.  We’d talked about it on the phone, and since there was really nothing to do in the Halfway House (and visits were confined to the community room, which consisted of a television, a pool table that was missing a few balls, and tables and chairs scattered throughout), Heather was going to bring a book of crossword puzzles that we could do together, along with some personal items and books for me to keep in my room.  I couldn’t exactly “dress up” for the visit as my wardrobe was somewhat limited, but I did put on a nice long-sleeve shirt and khaki pants.  While in theory cologne was forbidden, because of its high alcohol content, Heather had brought me some which they’d let through, so I put a dab of that on as well.  Since she’d found her way there before to deliver clothes a few days after my arrival, I knew she could make it without getting lost (Heather has a sense of direction almost as poor as mine, and to her “north” is whichever way you’re facing at the time). 

The plan was for me to eat the lunch provided at the Halfway House, and then Heather would arrive for her visit around 1pm.  Dinner started at about 5pm, so that was the ideal time for her to leave and head back home.  The drive itself wasn’t too bad; we live a block from the interstate, and except for the final five minutes the entire trip was on one highway or another.  Door to door it should take 30 minutes, maybe 45 if there was traffic or construction (or which there shouldn’t be any on Sunday).

I wolfed down my lunch that Sunday, and headed back to my room to change.  Sundays were usually pretty quiet around the Halfway House.  First of all, a tremendous number of “clients” took advantage of the two-hour religious passes to go to church.  Well, that’s what they SUPPOSEDLY did…most of them would swing by the church they put on the pass request, pick up a program to “prove” they’d been there, and then go off for who knows what activity (sex, shopping, drugs, or maybe just visit a restaurant).  I didn’t have any interest in those types of shenanigans, especially my instinct I assumed that I’d be the one person who would get caught.  Besides, Heather would never have approved of anything like that, and unless someone drove you to services the whole plan was a waste. 

After returning from services, a large percentage of clients would then have a legitimate pass to go out with family for a meal, or shopping, or to their home.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t apply for even a two-hour pass until I’d been in the Halfway House longer, found a job, and kept it for two weeks.  So my only source of outside contact besides the phone (which I made regular use of whenever possible, despite the two quarters every call cost me) was Heather’s visit.  A few friends asked about coming to visit, but the process was such a pain in the ass that I told them all it wasn’t worth the bother of even getting them approved. 

Anyone who knows Heather knows that she has a tendency to be late for thing.  Okay, that’s being overly polite; she is never on time.  Ever.  She was nearly half an hour late for our first date!  So I can’t say that I expected her to arrive at 1pm as scheduled.  That wouldn’t have been amazing, or a miracle; it would have been a sign of the apocalypse.  But when 1pm turned into 2pm I began to get a bit concerned.  At this time Heather did not own a cell phone, and never had…in fact, she hates the phone.  I had spoken to Heather earlier in the day, and I didn’t want to harass her, so I tried not to call.  After a while, though, I couldn’t help myself.  So I called, got the answering machine, left a message expressing my nervousness, and continued to wait.  Finally, a bit before 3pm, while I stood outside in the fenced-in smoking area (which also had a basketball hoop), I saw her little red Mitsubishi chugging down the road.  At last!  Not only did this mean no disaster had befallen her…more importantly, it meant I was finally going to get to spend an afternoon with the woman of my dreams, after all these months of waiting.  Okay, not an afternoon – she was much too late arriving to call it that.  But two hours was better than nothing!

The details of the visit itself might seem a bit anticlimactic.  It was clear that Heather was a bit nervous seeing me again.  I didn’t know if she felt especially self-conscious or something, but to me she looked more beautiful than ever.  (Speaking on the phone to her later, it was really more fear that we wouldn’t find ourselves connecting in the same way we’d used to.  Fortunately, those fears were unfounded, as we are closer today than ever, and the adjustment period wasn’t very difficult at all).  For me the two hours went by like two minutes.  We sat and worked on the crossword puzzles together…only being interrupted twice by the angry-looking staff member on duty; once because we were holding hands (I had no idea that wasn’t allowed, and I still can’t understand why it was), and once because we were “sitting too close to each other.”  That second interruption came with the threat that if she had to talk to me one more time she’d end the visit.  Considering I’d seen other clients kissing their visitors in the room before (and seen clients having sex with each other – standing up – behind the vending machine in the snack room) I found this strict adherence to the rules when it came to me to be both irritating and typical.  It reminded me of how at my first prison I’d get patted down leaving the chow hall about four times a week, while other inmates would walk out with their pockets stuffed full of stolen food and be waved right through.  I’d come to realize over time that most staff members only like to hassle the inmates (or in this case, clients) who won’t give them any resistance.  I guess by bothering me, they were showing their superiors that they were doing their jobs.  Besides, since I never bribed anybody at the Halfway House – a practice I’d heard was commonplace so cell phones and other contraband would continue to go undiscovered – I knew I should expect to be treated a bit worse. 

Then it was time to say goodbye again.  It hurt, but not as badly as I thought it would, because for once I knew I’d see Heather again in a week…and I knew that assuming I could find a job and proceed with the other tasks set in front of me, I’d be living at home again in a few months.  I gave her a light kiss and a long, tight hug goodbye at the door to the Halfway House (that was allowed – one kiss and one hug upon arrival, and when the visit was over), and watched her climb in her car and drive away.  I already knew this was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with…I just had to wait until the rest of my life was ready to start.