Fear

I sit on the battered chair in the so-called lounge, my ears assaulted by the too-loud sounds emanating from the television behind the metal wired cabinet … my eyes refusing to meet the pairs of eyes that are staring at me from across the pale green room. My arms are folded tightly across my chest in a “don’t you dare approach me” stance that I’m not proud of. I don’t know where to look, my heart is beating a little faster and my eyes are a drop away from overflowing …
An Asian woman shuffles past deep in conversation as a younger purple-hooded woman carefully cradles her orange juice in two hands as she slowly heads to the open door that I assume is her room. Walter’s booming voice fills the lobby as he announces that there are 5, 678 atomic missiles aimed at Washington at this moment (I know that I am doing Walter an injustice as I have picked a number from thin air … and Walter always makes mention of the same number and I do not remember the number) …
I’m ashamed to admit that I immediately tense and hope that Walter does not recognize me from my previous visits. But he does and comes shuffling over to impart his conspiracy theories to a live audience of one.
I nod … not meeting his eyes … and Walter having now spent as much time as my son in this place is aware enough to notice … and I watch his shoulders sag as he turns and shuffles away mumbling beneath his breath …
I am ashamed.