"Guilty. Guilty?" Hector leaned back and closed his eyes tightly. As many times as the verdict echoed in his mind, he couldn't make himself believe it was true. There had to be some loophole, some bargain that could get him off the hook. He couldn't go down for this. Not him.
He opened his eyes again, hoping this would all be a bad dream that he would wake up from. If only he could wake up to find that that morning in Clifford's hospital room had never happened or, if that was too much to ask, that something had gone wrong with the trial and he would be set free. If only he were free, he would leave town as he had planned, start a new life for himself, and put this all behind him.
"Burgess." At the sound of his name, Hector looked up to see the prison guard standing outside his cell. "You have a visitor."
"This is humiliating. Beyond humiliating," Victoria complained loudly as she was searched and lead through to the visiting room. "How can they treat me this way? What do they think I'm going to do? I'm not a common criminal. This is appalling."
"It's standard procedure, ma'am. It's the same for everyone," the guard replied.
"I'm not just anyone. I've never been treated this way in my life."
"This way. Take a seat at the end," the guard said, adding the words, "your highness," sarcastically under his breath.
Victoria warily took a seat, looking at the drab surroundings of the bare room. Was this her future? Allowed to speak to her son, her only child, only through glass partitions, under the supervision of watchful prison guards for the next 10-20 years?
When Hector walked in, he could see the pain and disgust on his mother's face. It was obvious she was trying to be strong and as dignified as always, but she was out of her element here. She didn't belong in a place like this and she never would have been here at all if it hadn't been for him. He sat down and picked up the phone.
"Hello, Mother. It's good of you to come."
"How could I not? You're my son, Hector. How are you? Are they treating you well?"
"Yes, fine." There was plenty to complain about, but he kept his answer positive for her sake. She looked pale and drawn as it was. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm doing the best I can," she answered, looking down at her hands folded tightly on her lap.
"Have you had any help? Has anyone been at the house with you?"
"Mr. Jordan has been a great help when he is able to come to the house."
"What about your friends? Have they been around?"
"No, and I don't expect them to. If it had been one of their sons I wouldn't be associating with them any longer either."
Hector sighed. "I think you should be with family right now. Don't you have cousins in Pleasantview that you could stay with for awhile? I don't want you to be all on your own like this."
"Pleasantview? But that's so far away. I won't be able to visit you often."
"Maybe that's for the best. I don't want you to see me here like this, Mother. We can write and keep in touch, but you shouldn't be in this place."
"But Hector, it could be 20 years before they release you. How could you ask me to go that long without seeing my only child? I might not be around 20 years from now."
"It could have been worse . . . and I'm sure they'll let me out when I'm up for parole. It won't be that long . . ." He tried to be optimistic for her sake, but it was obvious he was failing. "Listen, Mother, I'm sorry. That's not easy for me to say, but I messed up. I don't know what I was thinking, but I never thought it would turn out like this. Don't suffer over me."
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