The 20 Minute Honeymoon
Song: My One and Only Love by Jamison Ross
To hear your lover's voice is one level of treat for the senses. To see and hear them is an indescribable world of joy. Being able to touch, see and hear them is sheer bliss. Imagine expressing those sentiments and sensations under the watchful censorship of the department of corrections. In Illinois, in-person visits are a maximum 3 hours and 45 minutes. Effective July 1st, IDOC shaved 15 minutes off of the former 4 hour maximum. The only touching that's allowed is upon entry and exit. Phone calls and video visits are the standard 20 minutes.
Edwin and I have had weekly video visits for the last 6 months of the 3 years and 8 months that we've known each other. The other wives and girlfriends of incarcerated men who I know are much more confident in their relationships and adept at navigating the means of communicating with their partners. They were dolling up for their video chats and scheduling regular in-person visits. I was still getting comfortable with seeing myself on screen (and cringing) when I created online content for the bakery. When I mentioned the other women's excitement at seeing their partners, Edwin asked, "So when am I gonna get the opportunity to enjoy the view of you?" It hit like a ton of bricks. The sound of my voice and the words in my letters weren't enough. He wanted more of me.
The first video visit was a timid fiasco for me!! I had real wedding night butterflies and jitters. My hip-length locs were in a high ponytail on top of my head. He only saw my left eye because I was half hiding behind my hair. My eye contact with him was skittish. I had all of the composure of a squirrel. Fast forward nearly 7 months and I "get cute" for our Tuesday 20-minute honeymoon sessions. I love camisoles and off-the-shoulder tops, but they're contraband. So I'll either have to pull the ruffles up over my shoulders, swap out for a t-shirt or cover up with a cardigan. The corrections officer is so used to me baking at check-ins that she'll ask, "What are we makin' this week?" She quickly wishes us a good visit and the screen goes black until Edwin appears.
I can never stop giggling and blushing under his gaze. His eyes are seductively sleepy. There's a defiance in his chin and the flare of his nostrils. The timbre of his voice weakens me. The day that I noticed the shape of his lips, a level of desire I wasn't ready for was unlocked. When he laughs and asks, "Why you so extra cheesy?" I'll blush harder and say, "'Cause I'm checkin' out what's mine." I keep one eye on the timer at the bottom of the screen. Soon as that last minute hits, it's a barrage of "te amo," "love you, too" and blown kisses. Time's up. Black screen. Sigh.
Sometimes he'll call to pick up from where we were cut off. When the phone rings, his name and picture pop up on my caller ID. The automated operator explains the "ya dig" about a prepaid collect call. I press 1 to accept. The shot clock begins on our verbal honeymoon session. Just when the conversation gets good, "You have one minute left" is the reminder. We talk as fast as the "taxes, title and license not included" disclaimer guy at the end of the car ads. Then it's, "Thank you for using Securus!" and disconnection. Sigh...again.
Aside from his court appearance in Bridgeview last November, Edwin and I have NEVER been in the same room together--yes, I was a bouncy squirrel on the bench in that courtroom. LOL! We've never touched each other, but through no fault of ours. I have a physical disability that no longer allows me to drive long distances. I have scheduled trips with a transportation service, but there's a particular passenger who keeps cancelling at the last minute and causes the trips to get nixed due to low ridership. This bond that we've cultivated is truly spiritual.
However, the day is rapidly approaching when he will be a free man. We will have the rest of our lives for the physical part of the relationship. I'm wondering if we'll look back on our 20-minute honeymoons with nostalgia, gratitude to God or simply be glad that part of our lives is behind us? One thing's for certain...I won't be able to blush and hide behind my hair for too much longer.