“Jan? Jan!”
There was too much to pack. Jan stood in her room, hands clutching her kool-aid dyed hair, staring blankly at the mountainous piles of clothes and books that surrounded her. Magnets from New Mexico, Arizona, and California littered her room. Ripped-down posters of Falling in Return added to the mess. Sunlight poured in through the cracked window, illuminating dust particles dancing in the air like little bailaoras. She bit her lip with crooked teeth (they could never afford braces), as she folded her favorite sweater—the one her mother had bought her years ago, before the cancer and the pain—its familiar sterile scent still lingering like a bittersweet memory.
The door creaked open, and Maya leaned against the frame, her arms crossed. She sighed. Everything about Maya was beautiful, from her light brown hair and soft features to her sigh. Jan’s older half-sister was everything that she was not. “I was calling you, muneca.”
Jan ignored her pointedly, pretending to struggle with a particularly wily sleeve. A constellation of freckles dotted Maya’s cheeks, shining more apparently than ever in the morning glow. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said softly, concern lacing her tone.
Jan paused, the sweater halfway folded. “But I want to,” she replied, a note of defiance creeping into her words. She reached down, scratching Lady Emilia’s ears, the golden retriever wagging her tail, oblivious to the sudden weight in the room. “I need to.”
Maya sighed, stepping inside and sitting beside her. The floor was cool beneath their bare feet, a permanence amidst the whirlwind of change. “I just worry,” she murmured, glancing at the suitcase bulging with clothes and dreams. “You don’t have to bring everything with you there.”
As Jan ran her fingers through Lady Emilia’s soft fur, her hands stilled to the touch of warmth radiating from the panting dog.
“I know,” she whispered, even as her heart flip-flopped in her chest. “I want to try, though.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
As they drove to the prison, the car filled with unusual and heavy silence. No chattering Mexican aunts and uncles today. No joyous barking from Lady Emilia, as the wind whipped her golden fur. Snap! Jan pulled the battered camera down, checking her picture.
Zip! She pulled out the polaroid and wrote on its bottom right, Sunflowers in the road cracks, blurry. 2024. Jan stuffed the polaroid into place in her navy blue traveler’s journal amidst many others, halting as her eyes skimmed over forgotten pictures.
New puppy! Found her behind a dumpster :( 2014.
Dad’s birthday, look at his face. 2016.
Chai on the porch, dad’s sandals need replacing. 2017.
Runs with Dad and Lady Emilia. 2017.
“Hey,” she smiled softly. “Remember this one, Maya?”
Jan held it up, a portrait of two girls, one with a spray of freckles and the other, crooked teeth. They stood at the front of the Diskneeland gate, arms thrown around a smiling, bearded man who held them, tanned and chapped from 10 hours of work a day. He had a spray of freckles across his misshapen nose and crooked yellow teeth.
Maya hands tightened around the steering wheel, her tan knuckles paling against the leather. “No.”
Jan’s smile faded. Better not start it today. She stuffed the polaroid back into the journal, and stared out of the dirty window in silence, hand against cheek.
Maya’s mustard Ford pulled to a screechy stop outside the gates. Jan watched as Maya thunked her forehead against the steering wheel and sighed.
Then Maya turned to her, smiling brightly, as she always did. It was a habit befitting an older sister. “Here we are, Janie.”
Out of habit, Jan almost invited Maya in with her, but the thought faded like smoke. Instead, she leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on her sister’s cheek.
“Come visit,” Maya called, trailing off as she pulled away, the gap between them widening with every mile.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Jan shouldered her bag and looked forwards. Without the comforting, cinnamony presence of her sister, the prison loomed sinisterly ahead, its unfeeling, gray walls towering like a fortress. Jan strode towards it, her stomach twisting queasily, but her face betrayed no hint of her nervousness. She was no longer thirteen; she was eighteen, and she was braver than ever before.
Inside, the atmosphere was instantly oppressive, a thick layer of antiseptic mingling with some underlying rotting odor. Jan’s shoes squeaked and echoed on the linoleum floor, each step in tandem with her heart’s erratic rhythm. As she walked through the metal detectors, a guard’s lazy gaze followed her bare shoulders, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.
She would not shirk away today, however, no. Jan lifted her chin and opened the next door, with its rusty barred window, unprompted.
The visitation room itself was harsh and stark, with fluorescent lights buzzing above, casting a bright glare over everything. Jan squinted to find her stall. Rows of plastic chairs were lined up against dirty walls, their surfaces worn and scratched. She approached, fingers brushing against the cold, metallic surface, as if it could ground her.
Then he entered. Her father looked older, the years and the opioids had etched into the lines on his face. His jumpsuit hung loosely on him, a faded orange that seemed to swallow him whole, as if even the fabric could not contain the man he used to be. The shadows under his eyes told stories of sleepless nights and battles lost. He slumped in his chair, long nails scraping towards the phone.
“Hey,” Jan said, trying to keep her tone steady, but it quivered like the green lights above. She searched his face for some sign of recognition, for her Papa, but found only indifference.
“Thought you’d be gone by now,” he replied, his voice gravelly and lacking any softness. She winced at the sharpness of his words, feeling the sting of disappointment wash over her.
“I’m here,” she said, her heart heavy. “I came to say goodbye.”
“Adios, you?” he echoed, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. “Don’t think you’re escaping. You’ll end up back here in the dirt like me one day, Princesa.” The words cut her, piercing through the fragile hope she had brought with her. There was no warmth, no pride—only a bitterness that filled the space between them like a suffocating fog.
“I won’t,” Jan replied, her voice rising, a mixture of anger and determination igniting within her. Her face squished together in an effort to prevent tears from spilling out.“I’m not like you.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he muttered, turning his gaze away from her, as if the walls held more interest than the daughter he had barely known for years. “Where’s Maya? You’ve always been the dumb one, Janiela.”
Jan stood up abruptly, the metal chair screeching across the prison floors as she pushed it aside. “This is it, then,” she retorted, the finality of it echoing in the icy air. “I’m leaving today.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
As she turned to leave, something inside her snapped. “You know, I tried to understand,” she said, shaking, but she couldn’t hold back. “I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d want to know me, Luis Alonso. But I’m done now.”
He looked up then, a flicker of something—shame, or anger, maybe—crossing his grayed features before he turned back to the table, muttering something she couldn’t catch.
Jan stood there for a moment, feeling the walls of the facility closing in on her, the chill of metal wrapping around her heart. What am I waiting for? For an apology? For him to reach around prison bars and give me a hug? She wanted to scream, to break through the silence that ruled her life for the past five years, but instead, she held his gaze—caramel eyes meeting the other—and walked away.
She strolled out those barred-window doors, nodding to the leering prison guard—who snapped back in place, taken aback. She flung open the doors to the prison.
Outside, Jan took a deep breath, the cool air of September filling her lungs, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and the promise of new beginnings. She pulled out her earbuds and she slipped them in, thoughts of her father, her mother, the prison, faded away. Rock music blasted through the speakers, as Jan whirled around and took one last snap! picture of the place she’d once dreaded for good riddance.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Jan walked towards the terminal, her little red suitcase rolling merrily behind her, feeling lighter with each step. “Boarding to New York City,” the girl at the desk announced, smiling at Jan, and for the first time that day, a genuine smile broke across Jan’s face, as she returned it.
She was ready to step into a future that belonged to her alone. Free, free to be just Jan.
About the Author:
Shel Zhou is a seventeen-year-old writer and poet dedicated to exploring themes of identity, relationships, and emotional discovery. She has published works in various literary magazines and actively participates in advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights. Shel's writing reflects her journey as a queer and Asian American individual and her desire to connect with readers through authentic storytelling.
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