As you’d imagine, a few days before September 11^th, I got a call from my lawyer.  The hearing had been pushed back a week or two, as they wanted to keep the building nearly empty on September 11^th for security reasons.  It was too late to cancel the trip, so they flew down and stayed overnight.  I had lunch with them myself one day (the day they were heading back), and Heather and I went to dinner with them the prior night. If nothing else, I treasure that dinner.  It was my father’s only chance to meet Heather before he died.  I’ll never know what he really thought or really said to Barbara about her, but I think he saw how happy we were together, and I like to believe he could feel the honesty and magic in our relationship.  Maybe when he died he was able to carry the knowledge that at long last I had found a wonderful, beautiful, loving, caring, giving, thoughtful, sensitive, and truly good person to spend the rest of my life with.  Barbara always said he liked her very much, but me being me, I still wonder what he might have said in private.  Either way, it means a lot to me that they met each other that one time.

Eventually I was given my sentencing hearing, and it was uneventful (except for how emotional I got).  My 46 month sentence was exactly what we expected; the sentencing guidelines were very explicit, and judges at that time were not varying from them except for specific circumstances (terrible crimes, or helping the government convict other criminals).  There had been hope that I might get a sentence as low as 24 months at one point, when my initial pre-sentencing report left off one of the potential “enhancements” which would have raised my “score” my 4 points.  But that was corrected at the insistence of the head regional prosecutor….in effect, I think it was an attempt by the prosecutor to cut me a break, since I hadn’t meant to cause harm, could not have personally profited from my crime, and because it seemed that so many worse cases wound up with  shorter sentences.  But 46 months it was.  I was once again released on my own recognizance and advised when I’d hear about what prison to report to.

Mara and I kept in touch by phone and email during this time, but I didn’t have much I could tell her.  I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t know when I was going there, and I didn’t know what it would be like.  She was busy anyway, with her job and the somewhat long bus ride she had to take every workday.  I was rather proud that she was able to handle that on her own; it was the kind of thing she never would have attempted before.  But the work was uninteresting, the boss was mean, and it had been a long time since she’d had to deal with things like that.  The extra money was coming in handy, I guess, and she and her boyfriend were going to get married any day…that seemed surreal to me, but I tried to be positive and supportive however I could.  As hard as I tried, though, it sounded more like Mara was spinning her wheels than getting anywhere…these positive steps she was taking in her life weren’t being regarded that way by her.  I don’t know what her hopes and dreams were by then; maybe she didn’t have any left.  She never talked about the future, just the now.  Maybe things would work out…but I could never allow myself to actually HOPE so.

After more Federal delays (my intial “report date” came and went without any notification about WHERE I should report to), I finally learned that I needed to report to Allenwood Federal Prison in Montgomery, PA.  Through internet searches I was able to guess the mailing address, which I emailed and postally mailed to everyone I possibly could…I figured any letters from the outside world would be a blessing.  I also made sure Mara had Heather’s home phone number in case there was an emergency, or in case she just wanted to know how Tigger and Blackfoot (our two remaining cats) were doing.  Mara didn’t have any long distance service, and unless it was life or death she wouldn’t call collect, but with her parents living in Florida by now I figured she might call from there on occasion.  Heather had no issues about speaking to Mara or being friendly towards her, so I was not concerned about bad blood coming between them if they interacted.

I’ve detailed my trip to prison previously, so I won’t recount that journey here.  But I arrived, settled in, and within a week I started getting mail.  Over the coming three years I’d continue to be surprised that certain people never wrote me, while others who I’d never expected to hear from wrote me quite a bit (once a month or more).  A lot of Diplomacy folks were dependable pen-pals over this time, including Andy York and Paul Milewski who you see here in Eternal Sunshine.  Mara wrote as well, which I had hoped she would do (but wasn’t about to hold my breath over it).

The first letter arrived in mid November, only about two weeks after I’d reported.  She talked about work, about getting married in a civil courthouse ceremony (a DVD player with a copy of The Lords of the Rings was the big gift she and her husband were giddy over; they both loved the movie), and a bit about their cats.  More she just seemed worried about me, and what it was like in prison.  Mara also mentioned that she was going to see her parents on Thanksgiving for a few days; she wasn’t looking forward to it, as “family time” was to her a form of mental torture.  But she was going, all the same.

Heather would later mention to me that over the Thanksgiving weekend the home phone rang, and while she couldn’t be certain she thought it might have been a Florida number.  I can’t remember the specific details, but I think Heather spilled something all over herself and the floor on the way to the phone, grabbed it out of reflex, and told the female voice on the other end “Whoever this is, please, you’ll have to call back later” before hanging up.  Whoever it was never did, but the timing might have been right for Mara to call; maybe taking advantage of a free phone to check on the cats.  It isn’t important in the scheme of things, but I still wonder what Mara would have said if it had been her.

But then the letters stopped coming…