“But that’s just with novels, not a memoir, right?” I ask.

“You would think so but no, it’s the same with all writing. With a memoir, you are somewhat limited to facts and things that actually happened but, like I said before, two different people will have two different experiences of what happened because of how they view the world and themselves. Their stories will inevitably be different. So, in writing a memoir or a true story, you would have to do the same thing as you do in fiction. You have to create the character who experienced those struggles. It may have been you at one time, but it’s likely not the you that you are today.”

24

Olive

When I go to see him…

Josephine drives me to the jail where Owen is being held. It’s a nondescript looking building that looks more like an office or some sort of administrative structure than a jail. There’s no barbed wire or guards with guns like the ones guarding the prison where I picked Owen up.

“Olive, I know that you are doing this for the right reasons but if you feel afraid, more afraid than you do now, or like you’re in danger, then don’t do it. It’s not worth it,” she says.

I give her a nod and a brave smile. Josephine is saying that to be encouraging and to give me permission to fail but I can’t give myself that permission. If this doesn’t work or if I am too fearful of facing Owen again, even in this protective environment, then Nicholas is going to go away for a very long time. No, whatever fears I have, I have to put them aside.

After I get out of her car, I give her a wave and promise to text as soon as I’m done so that she can come and pick me up.

I walk up to the guard behind a thick wall of plexiglass and tell him my reason before being here. He asks for my identification and then lets me walk through the metal detector.

To prepare for this visit, I’ve read through all of the requirements and scheduled the appointment yesterday as stated. I look down at my phone and check the time.

Visitor check-in begins twenty minutes before the scheduled visit time. Check-in is terminated ten minutes before the scheduled visit time and each visit is scheduled to be forty-five minutes in duration.

They have a cubby system for leaving cell phones and I check one out and pay the one-dollar fee to use it.

The guard shows me to the bench where other women are seated. I am the only one here without a child or a baby in tow.

I think back to Josephine’s children in her beautiful house overlooking the valley and the crammed apartments that these children probably live in and my heart breaks for them.