Corinne jumps up. I hold her back by the shirt so she doesn’t wrap her arms around him. Against the rules. She taps her thumbs on the table instead until Daddy sits down. He grins before folding his hands over ours that are now in the middle of the table.

There’s nothing that fills me more than seeing how bright his eyes are lit with us here. Today is different because of Jamal’s absence. Daddy’s eyes are dark today, like he’s had no sleep. Like the light of hope has flicked off after hearing about Jamal.

Mama’s face falls when she sees him. She’s carrying the weight of the world right now. She doesn’t think I know she’s been crying in her room, stuck staring at photos of Jamal as a baby.

“I drew you a picture.” Corinne points at her drawing, all of us in front of our house, Daddy leaning on his Buick. Daddy smiles, then leaves it on the table for approval from the CO so he can take it back with him.

“How’s school going?” he asks.

That makes Corinne perk up. “Good. There’s this one kid…”

Corinne tells random stories that trail off before she picks up another thread. When she runs out of steam, I pull her arm so she knows it’s time for us to leave Mama alone with Daddy before it’s my turn.

Corinne and I walk back to the window and watch them.

I read Mama’s lips and think she says, “Jamal.” She lowers her head. Daddy kisses the top of it, touching along her face. It’s so intimate I want to look away. Put a wall around them so they’re alone. No one else should share in their moment, but I can’t help watching, because it’s the only time I see my parents together.

Usually when they’re close like this, hands clasped tight, it makes me cry with joy. Daddy talking away at Mama, and the way she flicks her eyes at him. Her hardness she’s always cracking like a whip becomes as soft as can be. Melting with Daddy. You can’t tell them they weren’t transported to another place for this moment. Their ability to block out the guards, inmates, noises in the background, even us. It’s only them. Until the time passes and they have to travel back to reality. Back to thinking about another long drive home without his heavy laugh.

This time when they talk, it’s different. This time Mama is telling Daddy about Jamal, and he’s hanging on to every word. They look over at us, force a smile. They talk some more, serious looks. I want to lean in closer, catch what they’re saying.

“I miss Jamal,” Corinne says.