Joel POV After a few hours of writing, scratching out what I had just written, and just simply planning how I would convey what Ineeded to convey in such a small provided space, I set the pen down and laid back. It was amazing how mentally exhausting that was. I would still wait for Shotgun to come back in and review what I had written before transferring it to the official form. In the meantime, thoughts of what he had written will swirl around in my head because I had a tendency to overthink shit. The questions were simple enough: Along with the first one there was Discuss issues surrounding your crime. Do you admit guilt of your offense(s)? Do you have feelings of remorse? What have I learned since my incarceration? Why should you be granted parole? Why is your parole plan good? And the section for additional comments. However, the answers were so much more complex. On top of all this, I need to make a decision of whether or not to tell Miranda that I am up for parole. I ha
“Amanda, he did not kill his girlfriend! I already read the charges. It was probably like he hit someone while speeding or he had a gun that accidentally went off. That is what manslaughter is. It's not murder. I looked it up already,” I plead, “So turn the computer off. I need you to be supportive. It's not like I have anyone else in my life that supports my decisions and this is important to me. He is the only person I have felt a connection to in a long time. Don't take that from me. Please.” “Oh, God. You don't have to get so emotional,” raising her body from the computer chair and meandering into the kitchen. She grabs a bottle of Pinot from the counter. I'm not much of a wine drinker but I always seem to have plenty around. A couple years ago Nancy had a wine party and I won some wine of the month club membership so every quarter I get delivered a box of wine. Who am I to complain about free booze, but I always wonder when this prize expires. Am I just going to get free w
Joel POV I woke with a startle to the cell doors opening. "Shit." he grumbled. He had been doing that a lot lately. Sleeping in. And grumbling, as a matter of fact. I knew today was the day I had to return the parole paperwork to the counselor but I felt like somehow it wasn't quite ready even though I must have been through ten drafts before finalizing it. Of course, I want to get out, but now its even more so. Now, with Miranda waiting on the outside, getting paroled has placed getting paroled as a higher priority. I stepped back into the cell and grabbed my blue shirt and paperwork.I walked down the stairs and wandered up to the front desk where the COs sat throughout the day. "Smith?" I said to the CO who had worked the floor for at least the last couple years. He was an older gentleman with gray hair and a rounded belly which won't be getting any smaller considering the amount of hostess cupcakes he eats in a day. I swear that guy has always got something in his mouth. "Whe
Joel POV Once I realized who was on the other end of the phone, I was able to calm myself down. I don't understand why i was feeling so possessive about Miranda anyways since we haven't even defined this relationship. I just know that I want her. "So, I'm up for parole and my date is two days from now." I tell her. "Shit. Shit. Shit." Miranda said. "They didn't give you much notice, did they?""You know how it is baby," Joel sighed "Anything and everything they can do to make it that much harder.” I immediately tried to catch myself. There are enough problems that each of us have. There was no need to be negative and bring down one another during our phone time. This was the time that we should be enjoying each other's company."Look," I said. “I didn’t know whether or not to tell you because I didn't want you to get your hopes up but also I didn't want to keep secrets from you. There’s a really good chance that I will be denied. Most people have to go up for parole several ti
Miranda POV The next two days went by as slowly as humanly possible. That day after hanging up the phone with Joel, I hung out with Amanda and we worked on letters of our own to send into the Virginia Parole Board along with wrangling some other friends that Amanda and I gathered up from our art classes and wine nights to write letters, too. All were friends and acquaintances who we knew are active in supporting causes such as judicial system injustices, unfair sentencing, etc. so they were happy to help us out. The next morning, I woke up to the sound of banging and Beebs barking and growling at the front door. “Who the hell is waking us up on a Saturday morning?” I asked Beebs as I walked toward the door, still wearing my night shirt and slippers. As if she could answer me even if she knew. I peek out the side window and see a familiar face, holding a steaming paper cup sporting the logo from my favorite coffee shop up the road. I eagerly opened the door, grabbing the cup as I
Joel POV I turned back on my music and kicked back on the bed again. I opened my emails; they were from Miranda of course, and I started to read. They were short because the longer ones seemed to drag ass getting to where they should. Heaven forbid the emails work like normal emails out there. She had sent a nice little card wishing me luck tomorrow for the parole interview. The other email mentioned that she was going to sleep and letting me know that she couldn't wait for the day that she could lay her head on my chest and drift off to sleep listening to my heart beat. The thought made me smile. The doors opened and a few people walked by waving. Everyone knew that parole interviews were taking place this week, making everyone nervous and reserved contemplating their possible release. The doors closed again and time seemed to creep by so fucking slowly today.Finally, the intercom buzzed. "Johnson," I heard through the static. "Time for your parole interview. Get dressed and rep
Miranda POV Mondays are my least favorite day of the week. Not only do I have to wake up two hours earlier than on the weekend, but it also usually takes me half a day to get my mind back on track mentally with the language project. If I had any other job, it probably wouldn't take so long, however, the complexities of the dialectical differences are so important in my work, even a minor mistake could have disastrous results and could set us back months. Today is especially sucky since I know Joel is going through his parole interview and I am worried about the result. The only way I can describe it is as a feeling of helplessness. Even though we just found out two days ago that he was even up for parole, it seems that as soon as that information hit my prefrontal cortex, I immediately started making plans for our future. Fantasies about coming home to him after a long day at work, eating dinners together and relaxing with Beebs on the couch have filled my daydreams. At night, im
Joel POV I heard the lights click on and I peeked out from under the shirt I used to block the light from my eyes. I was assaulted by the brightness and then yelling over the pod intercom. “It's five thirty gentlemen. We have fifteen minutes before count. Today there will be a standing count and you will need to be properly dressed as there will be a female on the floor.”"God, I wish they would shut the fuck up." I hear Shotgun growl. I agree, but I just groan and roll over, facing the wall and covering back up my head. "It's that asshole Jones working today." I mumbled. I put on my shorts, t-shirt, socks, and slides on, thinking the same thing he normally does. I cannot bear to stand barefoot on the concrete. If I have to stand like that, I will stand on the sides of my feet. I also cannot stand the feel of cotton balls, q tips or the way Styrofoam rubs together. That is also why I don't eat popcorn, squeaks on my teeth. When I was younger, I saw an occupational therapist who
Joel POV Sometimes people get second chances. It is my experience that it is rare and doesn't at all follow the cliches we always hear about getting a do-over. ‘As long as you have breath in your body, you still have time for another chance..’ ‘Every moment of your life is a second chance…’ These are absolutely not true. Second chances take a lot more than just being able to suck in air. They take time and commitment to change. They take willpower and gratitude at the highest level. Often, people are given a lot more than just second chances, they are given chance, after chance, after chance. Then, after repeated forgiveness from others, they feel entitled and rarely change, leaving their people frustrated and regretful. Not me! I was given an opportunity for a life, for love and I knew exactly what was offered. That is why I grabbed it with both hands and refused to let go. I refused to let her go. Some may even say I have become dependent upon Miranda for my happiness. To
Joel POV It has been a busy week. Since I arrived on short notice, Miranda was unable to get time off work because they are finishing up her current project apparently with some sort of rush due to funding. I know she will do great, and she can easily get a new job with how smart she is, but she is nervous, nonetheless. As for me, I didn't want to get stuck sitting in front of the television waiting for her to get home every day so I called up Jim’s Construction after learning he was having trouble with current employees calling out. I told him that I was available to help for the week and he took me up on my offer and I've been busy every day. He does mostly small jobs-building sheds and shops, home additions, and even some decks. I wasn't sure Jim would want me to work for him after learning about my past, but he was supportive, mentioning that his brother had spent some time in prison and that everyone deserves a second chance. I also had to make sure I mentioned it to Mr. Bar
Miranda POV I wake up early and dig around in Joel’s suitcase for something comfortable to wear. Settling on one of his oversized Virginia Cavaliers hoodies, I throw on my stretch pants and head down to the lobby. If I’m going to make it through this day, I am definitely going to require high doses of caffeine. Since Joel is here in Alaska and there is no doubt that his place in my life is not faltering, he needs to meet my people-at the very least my mom, my brother, and Amanda. I text Amanda to meet me at my house at one o’clock. That will give us plenty of time to check out, grab some breakfast for Joel, and get back to my house to meet her. Then, I figure I might as well kill two birds with one stone, so I text Mik as well, inviting him over for a late lunch. I know he’ll come if there’s food involved, and I can grab a pack of tacos from the food truck that parks down the road from my house. The hotel’s tea collection is weak, and their coffee is stale, but I guess it will d
Joel POV I wanted to just head straight to the airport and run home but I just couldn't do it so I found myself driving to the hotel I had listed on my travel pass and checking in at the front desk. I felt exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and even physically from I can't even remember how many hours of uncomfortable traveling over the last twenty-four-hour period. I wasn't mad. Well, maybe I was mad at myself for trusting someone again. But not mad at Miranda; I don't know that I'd feel differently if I were in her shoes. “Checking in. I have a reservation. Joel Johnson.,” I say as I approach the front desk of the hotel lobby. I look around and notice the hotel is fairly nice with a definite Alaska feel to it. The furniture is rugged with red plaid accent pillows and the main centerpiece is a giant stuffed grizzly bear. I might be impressed if I wasn't so tired. There’s a kid behind the desk and I’m guessing he can't be over eighteen. “Without looking up from the computer he
Miranda POV Joel was right. I had known about the crimes he committed when I reached out to him, and I had no right to hold them against him now. Furthermore, I had knowingly built a relationship and made a commitment to that relationship knowing all the while I did not have the details of his past. How can I just turn my back on someone who means so much without even getting the whole story? Without fighting for the relationship, I swore meant so much to me. One thing I have always loved about myself was that part that can be nonjudgmental and open to other's experiences. I have always believed that we are each on our own journey and that theirs is not mine to judge. We all have different things to learn in this life and it's not my responsibility to decide what is wrong or right/good or bad. Moreso, it's my job as a fellow human being to support people through their journey, no matter how much I disagree or am confused by their decisions along the way. Now that I know the circ
Joel POV I could barely see straight, and my hands started shaking as I formed them into fists. I hadn't been this furious since that day everything had happened. "I shouldn't have to explain myself to you or anyone else! Especially not your nosy bitch friend,” I say, raising my voice. “It is supposed to be you and me against the world. That's what you fucking told me, and I guess I was stupid enough to believe you.” Miranda backed away from me and I could see a glimmer of fear in her eyes, and I immediately regretted my initial reaction. I never wanted her to be scared of me. I had never forgiven myself for what had happened. So, how could I ever expect her to understand or forgive me when I can't even forgive myself? I tried to bring it up to her a few times, but when I did, I only felt shame and guilt. Now here I was, scaring her and for what? Because her nosy best friend had filled her head with bullshit, and she read some damned articles that were only half truths? I rememb
Miranda POV I sit up in my bed and am thankful that it's the weekend. It's been a long, hard week at work, and I can use both the physical and mental rest. I’m even more thankful that I am finally getting through each day without constant reminders of Joel and even though I think I am a long way from being over him, I am able to function a lot better than I was a few weeks ago. I hear a knock on the front door, Beebs barks, and I move into the living room, curious to see who could be at my house this early on a Saturday. Thinking it’s probably the local neighborhood kids trying to earn some extra money cleaning up yards, I throw on some shorts under my long tee shirt just to make sure they don’t get an eye full. However, when I open the door, I am not met by the local preteens. Instead, the very reason for my recent misery stands before me. I stare, shocked, until I can finally form words, “Joel, what are you doing here?” I should probably be scared. I mean what kind of psych
Joel POV I sat in my truck breathing deeply. It was about ten minutes before my appointment and I was collecting my thoughts. I knew without a doubt that this is what I wanted but it could very well backfire. I had requested this appointment to request an out of state pass, but I knew even without it, one way or another, I would be going to talk to Miranda. Yeah, I know it’s risky and such behavior may get me locked up again, but I can't say I care much anymore. I’ve tried to call a few times but she has not accepted my calls or returned my texts. I need to talk to her, to apologize and if she doesn't forgive me then I will move on. I at least deserve a chance to say my piece. I pulled down the sun visor and looked at the backside, where I kept the picture of Miranda clipped. I never told her that I kept her with me and I wasn't sure why. Maybe because It was cheesy but more likely because it was difficult for me to open up, to care for someone and allow them to care for me. I
Miranda POV Amanda pulled her phone out and pulled up the article she had saved in her search history. I stared in shock as I read the newspaper headline “Boyfriend of Alecia Pike sentenced 22-years for Manslaughter.” Wait. What am I looking at? I’m confused at first but it becomes clearer as I continue to read, “Joel Johnson, boyfriend of slain woman received a sentence of twenty-two years in the murder of Alecia Pike in the First Judicial District Court of Virginia today after a week-long sentencing hearing. The extended hearing allowed the many victims and families of the victims in this case to testify for the court’s consideration. It was reported that the second victim, a minor in the case, who suffered a first-degree assault at the hands of the assailant was also present in the court….” I could not physically rad any longer as I felt bile begin to creep into my airway. “Where did you get this?” I asked Amanda, still hoping it was some sort of mistake. Or a joke, this had to