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Adrift
(Continued)
As spring turned to summer last year, the home confinement that intended to keep Travis isolated from negative influences began to work against itself. The lonely moments between time spent with his family were tough and bred a desperation for companionship. Travis began to search out relationships with women to fill the void. Official checks on his progress were scarce. In a county wracked with similar offenders, a staff of only two home confinement officers make the rounds. During the 14 months he served, Travis' home was only visited a handful of times. With Travis left to his own devices, the camper, meant to be his place of punishment, became a vehicle for reconnecting with his old habits.
Travis and his fiancee Tiffany kiss on his couch after he returned home from jail on bond. "I love you. I'll wait for you forever," Tiffany wrote in a text message to Travis after leaving his home the night before his sentencing hearing.
A couple weeks after Jessica started coming, around Travis' friend, Short, was over, expertly grinding a tall drinking glass back and fourth against an silver CD case. He ground the orange Suboxone into a chalky powder, catching it in the old cellophane wrapper off a pack of Marlboros. Short lifted the glass, removed the plastic and licked its underside, savoring each bit of crushed opiate.
On his bed, Travis sat next to Patience. The animated film "Cars" played on the TV.
Short cut two lines from the pile of powder, they parallel like the railroad tracks outside the camper. Short stood near the sink overflowing with dishes. He broke apart a clear Bic pen, keeping only the hollow tube. Travis leaned from the kitchen out over the bed in an attempt to block his daughter's view.
Short took the first line in deep, rapid snorts. The two men switched positions, one used while the other blocked Patience's view. In the small, cramped camper it was hard enough not to stand over each other. It was tough to do much of anything without being seen or heard.
Short, an old friend of Travis, snorts a line of Suboxone. Travis attempts to block Patience's view of the drug. Suboxone, a prescription drug used to help treat opiate addiction, is also abused to get high.
The two friends lit fresh cigarettes before they sank into their usual spots: Travis on the bed and Short on a stool in the kitchen. They fell quiet and watched as the animated cars circled the track. Their smoking filled the camper.
Water laps against the four posts of Patience's swing set, abandoned earlier in the week due to the cresting Ohio River. The thin, red-rusted chains of the swing wrap around the trunk of a black walnut tree. Narrow gravel walkways lead to where home used to be, cut off by the swollen waters. Living on the river has its risks when the rain doesn't quit. Shelia and Allen had to pack up the campers, secure the kids and their toys, and vacate the banks of the Ohio during the unusually wet spring in West Virginia. It's only the second time they have had to vacate their property and move their belongings to higher ground.
The camper is quiet except for the low hum of an electric space heater blowing on Shelia's feet.
Just about everybody I know does something. It might just be smoking weed or it could be shooting up.— Travis Simmons
"I really don't think she's a good influence for Travis," Shelia said about her son's fiancee. "She's still using pills and if he gets out and she's on 'em he's gonna end up right back on 'em too," Shelia said as she clicks her computer mouse, spinning the slot machine game on her computer. She is protective of her son, but knows she can only do so much to keep him on the right track.
"I worry the most about when he's completely out of prison, off of parole… Is he going to mess up again?"
On a crisp evening last autumn, Travis snuffed out his cigarette and asked his mother for another without moving from his chair. He had called her earlier that day. "They're coming for me, Mom." It was the November 19th, and Indian Summer still clung to the ridges and hollows of Jackson County.
Hours later, the sliding glass door of the house opened slowly. Steve Anderson, Deputy Sheriff of Jackson County and one of the county's two home confinement officers, squeezed past the door. Big and slow, his belly sagging over his duty belt.
"Hey Steve, would it be okay if I finished wrapping my daughter's presents before we go?" Travis asked. A child's stroller lay at his feet. Steve signaled his agreement and sank into the couch cushions. He watched as Travis slowly cross the folds of the dotted wrapping paper securing a corner with a piece of scotch tape.
Steve Anderson, Travis's home confinement officer, takes a seat while waiting for Travis to finish wrapping his daughter's birthday presents for Patience's fourth birthday party. Travis was worried about spending her birthday in jail and being unable to have a party for her.
Deputy Sheriff Anderson had been Travis' home confinement officer for the past 14 months.
Anderson had come to arrest Travis for breaking the conditions of his home confinement agreement. Travis had been traveling out of the county to buy K-2, a marijuana substitute that provides a similar high. When finished wrapping, he left with Steve. His chances to continue serving his sentence at home had run out.
