Mom must have sensed my hesitation. “It’s not that bad,” she said. She paused and put her arm around me. “Well, no. It’s bad. But he’s in a room with couches and chairs. You don’t have to talk to him on a phone through glass.”

“Really?” I brightened. “How did you know that’s what I was picturing?”

She smiled at me. “Because it’s what I was picturing the first time.” She whispered, “And the lady behind the counter made fun of me and said everything I knew about jail I’d learned on Legally Blonde. And she’s totally right.”

“Me too!” I said. Old movies were the best.

We walked through the door, and I had to stop at a desk that looked like the concierge at a not-so-nice hotel. Although I guess they didn’t have a concierge at bad hotels. Well, whatever. I had to fill out some form verifying that I was me since I’m not old enough for a driver’s license yet. Okay, so this was feeling more like jail by the minute. A lady with red hair behind the desk smiled at me and said, “Your daddy is going to be so happy to see you.” I knew she was trying to be nice, but it weirded me out.

The whole time I was both terrified to see my dad and so excited to see my dad. It was actually amazing how much a person could feel two opposing things at the exact same time.

Mom looped her arm through mine. A guard smiled at me and walked us to a room that looked pretty much like Mom had described, but with these quilts hanging on the wall that depressed me. I knew without really knowing that prisoners had made them, that some of America’s brightest minds had made bad decisions and instead of changing the world were learning basting stitches and French knots.

“Iris!” Dad said, jumping off the couch and practically flying toward me. He hugged me so tight it nearly took my breath away.

“I’m so glad to see you,” he was saying over and over. Was he crying? I hated it when he cried. I felt sorry for him, but also it made me really uncomfortable.

“I’m so glad to see you too,” I said. He smelled kind of like Clorox or something. Not bad, but not like Dad. He smelled liked a stranger.

When Dad pulled away, I noticed he kind of looked like one too. He seemed pale and thin. These dark circles he’d never had before were under his eyes. He hadn’t even been here that long.

Oliver got up from where he was sitting in a chair across from a couch. “I’m going to give you three a moment.” He moved away.

We sat down, Dad in the seat where Oliver had been, Mom and me on the couch.