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Adrift
(Continued)
In October of 2009, Jackson County sentenced Travis to house arrest, after having just served four months for one count of conspiracy to commit grand larceny he broke his probation and was being released from another one-month sentence onto home confinement. A couple of his friends had convinced him to help rob an auto repair shop; he was out of work from an injury to his hand and needed the money. Shelia and Travis' father, Allen, hurried to prepare a camper they purchased to sit next to their own for Travis to come home to. Allen connected the campers' water and electrical lines. A phone line had to be installed in order to monitor Travis's ankle bracelet and report if he strayed more than 100 feet from the monitoring box.
At first, Shelia welcomed his time on home confinement so that she could keep an eye on him. As long as he was home, she felt she could keep him in line, even if he was tempted by the past influences in his life.
Hell, up until I got hooked on pills. Life was pretty good.— Travis Simmons
Frustrated by his circumstances, Travis tried to keep as busy as possible to keep in the 100-foot circle around his eight by twenty foot camper. "I can't take my kids anywhere, not even to the park," Travis said. He did his best, and built them a refuge in his own narrow orbit.
The cramped quarters brought them closer as a family. They slept in the same bed and occupied the same space much of the day. Winters were tough, confining them day and night to their room and a half, too cold to pass the days outside.
The time alone within the camper began to wear on Travis. A wrinkled piece of notebook paper registered 87 titles; "The Empty Land", "Down, Ride the River", "The Hills of Homicide", "The Key Lock Man", "The Lonely Men". Travis owns all but two of Louis L'Amour's novels. His favorite author only wrote westerns. They helped him pass the time.
Shelia touches the pregnant belly of Jessica Ingram that holds her newest grandchild. Travis had reconnected with Jessica for a week around his birthday, she is now the mother of his third child. Their relationship ended after only a few months. Travis has only seen the child a handful of times.
On a warm night last April, Travis sat at home waiting for his cell phone to ring. "Hell, up until I got hooked on pills, life was pretty good." Travis knows he and his family do not have much when it comes to material goods, but they have love.
"My kids are my biggest reason for wanting to stay clean, because I don't want them around it, I don't want them to grow up to be an addict like I was." He paused to correct himself. "I am." Under midnight clouds, he waited for Jessica, a girlfriend, to come over and watch "Avatar" before spending the night with. A friend dropped her off a quarter mile up the road from Travis's camper. She had long, blond hair and a sharp nose. She was six months pregnant with his child. She doubled back along the railroad tracks before sneaking in with Travis. They could not let his mother find out. It's against Travis's home confinement for him to have overnight guests. His mother would kill him if he broke his home confinement to see her.
Patience early during the day in which her father was arrested for the final time before entering Huttonsville Correctional Center, a West Virginia maximum security prison.
The violations started small. No one but family or approved guests were allowed to spend the night with Travis. Anyone with more than a speeding ticket on their record wasn't allowed to be there at all. Being alone got to him, and these small connections to his past started to grow.
Shelia watches the kids on a cool spring day. "I don't know how you can like this movie," she says while digging around in a small set of plastic drawers. "Do you really have to watch this every time that you're here?"
"It's daddy and my favorite movie," Patience says, reminding Shelia that she and her father used to watch it over in his camper all the time before he left.
Shelia closes the DVD player's tray and turns on the 19-inch television, set on a shelf above the front seats. Patience lies on the bed in back, eyes fixed to the glowing blue screen, hands on her cheeks. A monster movie, "Lake Placid 2 Unrated", flickers to life.
It's time for you to grow up and realize that you have kids that are more important than drugs. You're a good daddy, but you cannot be the best daddy you can, on drugs.— Shelia Simmons
Eyes glued to the spectacle of an oversized alligator slipping into the water, she tells Shelia that she's glad there are no alligators in the Ohio River. She would not want to play outside if there were.
Since he has been locked up again, Shelia tells Travis over and over, "It's time for you to grow up and realize that you have kids that are more important than drugs. You're a good daddy, but you cannot be the best daddy you can on drugs," She has faith he could do it, but he makes the same mistakes over and over again.
"He says in his letters that he's sorry, he knows he messed up. He's sorry for the pain he's put me through and thankful for everything that I've done for him," Shelia says. But she knows it is just a matter of time. He will get out and fall back in with the old influences that put him there in the first place.
"When he first gets out of jail he keeps that stuff in his mind for a long time. But then he just—," she pauses. "That slips away." She knows that if he has the access to drugs through old friends it will be tough for him not to use again. It is her biggest fear, that he will never be able to fully step away from the lifestyle that continues to keep him incarcerated.
