The Deep End ✔️

28 - your mother's favorite

As it turned out, preparing to meet Dallas's father was a lot more complicated than just picking my next day off. Dallas had to ask his father to request me to be an approved visitor, then I received an application in the mail, had to wait once I submitted it for them to do a background check and eventually approve my application, and then we had to pick my next day off that aligned with the schedule his dad had visiting hours allotted. The whole process took about four weeks.

My hands were sweating in the waiting room. I had never been to a prison, but it was unsurprisingly lackluster.

"Are you scared?" Dallas asked with a chuckle. I looked at the magazine in his hands. Our phones and personal belongings were stored in a locker outside of the waiting room since we weren't allowed to bring them in the visitation room.

"No," I lied.

He closed the magazine and set it back on the table beside him. "I promise, meeting him would be the most natural thing in the world if we weren't here," he said with a light squeeze on my knee. "Don't worry."

I wasn't worrying, per say. I was just severely overthinking my entire existence leading me up to this point, sitting in an actual prison to meet my boyfriend's father. The situation was less nerve wracking as it was surreal in and of itself.  I tried reminding myself that this was just how it had to be and this was way more interesting than meeting his dad at a restaurant or something.

Eventually, Dallas's last name was called and we stood up. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, trying to calm down before actually meeting the man.

We were lead into a room with various tables with four chairs each. Those that were inmates were obvious enough with their matching all grey outfits, sitting across from loved ones or lawyers with the same melancholic expressions. Dallas looked around for a moment before he smiled, grabbing my hand and leading me to a table towards the back.

A man with striking resemblance to my boyfriend sat at the table. He stood up when we approached and it was clear where Dallas got his height from. He had a few inches on his own son. I felt like a child hiding behind Dallas's arm, so I stepped forward and held out a hand.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Thomas."

Dallas's father looked me up and down and I swear I was going to pee my pants. He had tanned skin, much like Dallas, and his hair was grey. They had the same nose and lips. He took my hand in his and gave it a good shake. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name," he said before he was scooped into a hug by Dallas. I watched them embrace with a small smile. When we sat down at the table, he clasped his hands together in front of him. "I'm Will. I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances."

I glanced at Dallas. "I'm confident I'll get to meet you outside of here someday soon," I said, meeting the blue eyes of Dallas's dad, much older and life-worn. I elbowed Dallas's arm. "You're in good hands."

Will cracked a fond smile. "Got that right."

I didn't talk much for the rest of the visit to give them their time to catch up. Dallas told his father about work and the story of when we got together for the final time. Will listened closely, soaking up every word Dallas was telling him so he wouldn't miss a thing. I'd imagine these visits were the closest thing he got to the outside world and Dallas was his eyes.

When it was time to go, Will pulled me in for a hug. I accepted it, albeit a bit awkwardly, telling him that I'll come with Dallas again soon.