Swallow Lane (A Liars Island Suspense)

by Marie Snow

  Hours later, when the evening staff came in to relieve me and Matthew, we followed each other to the back where we used the time clock to punch out.

  “Whew, I’m glad today is over, aren’t you?” I asked Matthew, trying to start some light, friendly conversation.

  He nodded his non-verbal answer. I resisted the urge to keep the conversation going and stopped myself from pushing him into talking with me.

  After we had our jackets on, I had my purse hanging over my shoulder, and faced Matthew. “I’m starved. Are you ready to head out now?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. His voice sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “I--I’ve been looking forward to this,” he added.

  He said it in such a way that I wasn’t sure he truly meant it, but I figured it was a good sign that he at least tried to talk with me, and it had a genuine smile covering my face.

  So, as we headed to my car, I felt a sense of anticipation and… excitement. Maybe Matthew and I would become friends? For whatever reason, I didn’t really have any of those. Maybe it could be more than that as time passed? Because the truth was, I really liked Matthew, and a part of me thought that maybe he liked me, too.

  9

  Matthew

  I hated that I was like this. I despised how awkward I was. I could only imagine what Jenny was thinking of me. I’d watched her all day, wanting to talk to her, but unable to get the words out. It was just as well that we worked in different areas today and that we’d been kept busy with cleaning. But I’d still watched her through the windows, or across the room, or when I’d been in the parking lot and she’d still been inside.

  Our ride to the Burger Shack was quiet, except for the sound of Jenny’s radio. She

  drove an older model Chevy Cobalt, and the little freshener hanging from the rearview mirror smelled like fake strawberries. The car was ancient, the color this bright yellow that almost hurt your eyes to look at. The interior was black and there was plenty of room in it, even though I felt like I was sitting on the ground while in the passenger seat.

  “I like your car,” I told her, and she smirked and shrugged, keeping her attention on the road in front of us.

  “Even I can hear the lie in your voice.” She was grinning now as she looked at me. “But thanks for trying to be nice. I kind of dig it. The color is obnoxious, but then again, it matches my personality pretty well.” She laughed at her own joke and I felt my lips twitch in amusement. She was… so full of life. “I only have one more year until it’s paid off. It’s fairly dependable, and gets me from point A to point B, even if it is a bit of an eyesore. My mom cosigned for me, but I’ve made every payment on my own. It had a boatload of miles on it when I bought it, so the price was dirt cheap, which means my payments let me sock money back for school.” She shrugged and I envied her easygoing attitude toward life.

  “You’re putting money away for school?” I asked her, genuinely curious to know more about her. It was surprising she wished to go to school, not that I thought she couldn’t make it work, but because she’d have to leave Liars Island to go to a university. I just assumed since she was working and had a life here, that this was where she wanted to stay. It appeared I was wrong.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I’m definitely not going to stay here my entire life. I want to get out there and live a little, you know?” she responded, looking at me with a sweet grin that made me wish I was normal.

  Even when Sofie and I got along, she rarely smiled or seemed happy like Jenny. With Sofie it was an artificial kind of happiness. I envied Jenny in how she…looked forward to things. I’d never experienced that, and I really wanted to.

  I was beginning to sound like a damn broken record.

  We made it to the Burger Shack and once inside we were shown to a table right away. We took a seat at a booth in the back of the restaurant. We sat across from each other and after we ordered, we sat there with this weird kind of silence filling the space.

  Anxiety filled me because I honestly didn't know what to say. Somehow, I didn’t think leading with the fact I’d been in a mental hospital because I’d been charged with killing my girlfriend was the way to go. I mean, technically, I wasn’t found guilty of murder, but that didn’t really matter… did it? There had been no proof, no DNA. I’d been unconscious beside Sofie’s body, my prints all over her. She hadn’t been breathing. She’d been suffocated, but there was nothing on the scene, no trace evidence on my hands or hers… nothing except the fingerprints of her boyfriend on her person.

  I closed my eyes as that night and the subsequent events played through my head. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t think of anything else once they invaded my mind.

  We’d both had drugs in our system. The same ones my doctors prescribed me. I could explain why they were in my system but had no explanation as to how they got in Sofie’s too. I’d heard the rumors from residents in Stillwake, the local gossip that said Sofie and I had made a suicide pact. We hadn’t. Other rumors had said I was just like my father..

  There were times I worried that I was just like him, that his evil and darkness had infected me, and this was the path my life was meant to take.

  As far as the town knew, my father died trying to save my mother, but there were those that said that my father was a killer too. I remembered when I was ten, asking my mother if my father helped murder those women. She’d gotten distant, quiet. She’d seemed sad, told me she loved my father and that's what mattered, that what people said in Stillwake didn’t mean it was the truth.

  The police had questioned me relentlessly about Sofie. They demanded I tell them what happened, but I couldn’t. I’d blacked out. I didn't remember anything. That was my only explanation and everyone--especially Sofie’s parents definitely found it lacking. I saw the pain and hate in their eyes as they’d looked at me. I wish I could have given them answers—offered them some type of closure. I wish I could have told them the truth about what happened, but even I didn't know.

  I couldn’t even explain how Sofie, and I ended up in the field behind her house.

  “What are you thinking about, Matthew?” Jenny questioned me. I shook my head to clear it from the memories that always seemed to bury me.

  “Sorry, just zoned out. I guess I’m tired.” Her expression told me she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press.

  The waitress brought our food and I stared at it, wondering how to make the mood between Jenny and I lighter. I didn’t have a clue. I wasn’t experienced at being around anyone on a personal level other than my mother, and those moments weren’t exactly lighthearted.

  “How’s your food?”

  I almost choked on a French fry and ended up coughing my ass off, trying to clear my throat.

  Jenny laughed then apologized softly. The sound of her laughter was so joyful that I couldn’t help but lift my gaze and stare at her. She was still chuckling, her head thrown back, her long hair shining under the restaurant lights. She looked so relaxed and happy. Something almost pushed through a wall that I had erected when I lost everything. I found a smile forming on my lips. A real one. It was weird and it felt strange on my face, but it was genuine.

  “You find it funny that I almost choked, Jenny?” I asked, teasing. I didn’t tease. I didn't find humor in things, but with her… I did. That feeble question was the closest I had come to joking, maybe in my whole life, but it made Jenny’s smile deepen, and I found I liked that.

  “Wow. Matthew, you can smile,” she said instead of answering me.

  “I’m not sure I have before today.”

  I figured she thought I was bullshitting her, feeding her a line. I wondered briefly what she would think if she knew I didn’t know how to give any girl a line. It didn’t matter, because what she did next made me forget to worry.

  “You should do it more often, Matty.”

  No one had ever called me Matty before. No one. And… I liked that Jenny did.

  I even wanted her to do it again.

  10
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  Michelle

  Matthew hadn’t called me to pick him up, so my assumption was that Jenny was bringing him home. Which was fine, but I couldn’t deny that my nerves were strung tight.

  Aside from the time he’d spent with Sofie, Matthew didn’t go out with people—least of all women. He didn’t hang out or have friends. This was all new to him, me as well, so worrying about every little detail of what was going on with him right now consumed my mind with such ferocity I felt like I was drowning.

  Since dropping him off at work, I’d focused on my own job, taking any assignment I could just to keep my mind off things. I’d been home for hours now and Matthew still wasn’t back.

  How was he dealing with being out? Was he struggling with being social? Was his date—or whatever they were calling it—bringing back memories of his time with Sofie?

  This was my main concern—that being with Jenny was taking Matthew back to the moment in his life when he’d lost everything.

  The girl he’d loved.

  His freedom.

  The very sanity that held him to this world--that kept the two of us together.

  I closed my eyes and breathed out, my hands braced on the edge of the sink, the dishwater having since gone cold, but I still kept washing. The same dishes. They were clean, so clean, yet I kept washing, scrubbing, getting the invisible dirt off because at this moment it’s all I had control over.

  I opened my eyes and looked at the dirty dishwater, before I focused on my hands, turning them over to look at the pads of my fingers. The skin was wrinkled, weathered.

  They looked like how my life had felt over the last couple of decades. Ever since I moved to Stillwake. Ever since I was sucked to the bottom of that dark pit, never to see the light of day again.

  It was a splash of lights through the kitchen windows that drew my focus up. My heart started to beat a little bit harder with anticipation and nervousness as I saw a car pull into the driveway. I knew without getting confirmation that it was Matthew getting dropped off.

  I curled my hands around the base of the sink, my nails scraping along the stainless steel. Because of the light in the kitchen and the darkness outside, I couldn’t really see much, but I could imagine the thick layer of tension coming from Matthew. Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe he finally found that connection with another human being that he needed so desperately after all these years.

  Maybe this was exactly the kind of therapy that would heal his soul and fractured mind.

  Time would tell, and I was afraid of the outcome. But I did hope this was the start of something good for my son, not something that pulled him deeper towards the bottom of that frigid ocean where no lights could penetrate, where he was slowly suffocating.

  It was only a moment after the car had pulled to a stop in front of the house that I heard a car door opening and closing. I wondered what they said to each other. I wondered what he was thinking right now, how he felt. How he really felt.

  I didn’t want to press him as soon as he stepped through the front door, but I couldn’t deny I was insanely curious. As a mother, I was overly involved with Matthew. I knew that. I knew he needed to live his own life, that he was an adult and sometimes he just had to get out on his own, figure it all out even if he made mistakes along the way.

  Matthew was fractured, and without me he’d have no one. He’d be alone.

  Like I had been. And I knew how devastating that loneliness was.

  I didn’t think I could ever not be a hands-on mother. I’d always worry about him.

  It was only another moment before the car was pulling away and I heard the front door open and close gently. I thought about just staying in the kitchen, letting him come to me. But my feet were already moving, propelling me forward to where he stood in the foyer.

  I stood there just watching him. He took off his jacket, his head downcast as he focused on the ground. I couldn't get a good read on him, but I didn’t feel anything distressing.

  “How was it?” He hung his jacket on the little hook by the door before answering me. When he finally faced me, he gave me a smile, but I could tell it was a little forced. I was used to that with him now.

  “It was… different, but nice.” He didn’t elaborate at first and I wasn’t about to press, even if I was curious for a little more information.

  He lowered his eyes down to my hands and I realized I was wringing them around a dishrag I’d grabbed before meeting him at the front door. I didn’t remember taking it off the counter.

  “Different?” I asked and cleared my throat, willing my voice to be even, neutral. “How so?” I hope my voice was being portrayed as soft, not judgmental or pushy.

  He shrugged and moved past me, heading into the kitchen. I followed, leaning my shoulder against the entryway and watching as he grabbed a glass to fill it with water from the sink. For long moments, he stood there staring out the window, and although I knew he couldn’t see anything outside because it was so dark, he didn’t move from his place, didn’t divert his focus from staring out at the front yard.

  And the whole time we were both so quiet, so still.

  He finished off his water, rinsed out the glass, and set it in the strainer upside down before facing me. We stared at each other for a moment, and I would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking.

  “It was different because I actually enjoyed myself. I can’t remember having felt that way for a very long time,” he finally said. I held my breath because I’d never heard him say anything like that before, not even about Sofie.

  He dropped his gaze to the floor, staring at it as if it were so complex it would give him the secrets of the mysteries of the universe.

  “Are you thinking about spending more time with Jenny?” I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Was it a date?” He looked up at me slowly, and even though his expression was distant yet stoic, I could tell he was curious that I’d mentioned the date aspect.

  “We’re just… friends.” he said that but then his brow furrowed slightly, as if he didn’t know what to think about what he’d just told me. “We just went out to dinner.” There was a moment of silence before he said, “but yeah, I’d like to hang out with her again. She makes things less… difficult.”

  We stared each other for a suspended moment, and I smiled, feeling something strange beat in my chest. “That’s really great, Matthew.”

  He pushed away from the sink and walked past me but stopped before he cleared my path. I looked up at him. I gave him a small smile, wanting to reach out and give my son a hug, but knowing better because it wouldn’t be welcome.

  “I really am happy that you’ve made a connection in Liars Island. That’s all I wanted for you when we left Stillwake.” His blue eyes were piercing as he stared into mine, and then surprising the hell out of me, I felt his touch on my hand. I looked down at where he touched my wrist, my breath stalling in my lungs. He curled his big fingers around mine and gave a squeeze.

  I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the small touch from him meant a lot. A lot. It was a massive step. He’d been the one to initiate contact.

  “Thank you, Mom. For everything,” he said softly and let go of my hand before continuing on his way toward his room.

  I was frozen in place, staring after him, my breath finally leaving me in a harsh whoosh, tears pricking my eyes. I lifted my hand and placed it over my heart. And all I could think about was whoever—whatever—Jenny was to Matthew, she’d made quite an impression on him.

  11

  Matthew

  Three Weeks Later

  “You don’t have to do this,” I mumbled to Jenny for at least the hundredth time.

  Things had progressed between the two of us to the point that I felt closer to her than I had anyone I’d ever known. Sofie included. I didn’t feel pressure around her and there were even these rare moments in which I laughed... felt free. Hell, I could even imagine that I was normal when I was with Jenny.

  We had been on seven o
utings together, and I knew the number because each one brought with it a spark of happiness as well as hope. There was the feeling that I was that elusive “normal” when I was with Jenny, that I was just a regular person.

  The person I thought I was once a very long time ago.

  Even before Sofie, I’d never been “happy” or even what others would consider normal. I struggled with depression, a severe suffocation of that disease that weighed down the world around me.

  But I never thought I was capable of the things I was accused of when it came to Sofie’s death. In time, my mom and my therapists convinced me that psychotic breaks could occur in someone without warning. And I’d come to believe that maybe that had been my case. My parentage concerning my father had certainly left much to be desired in the sanity department.

  After my mother relayed the struggles with depression that I had with the doctors, through therapy I began to understand that a break can be triggered by anything if you have underlying issues. That coupled with the medication in my system…

  I shook my head, trying to clear it from the past. That’s where it belonged. That's what I kept telling myself over and over again until I hoped, one day, it would stick. I was different now. I was in treatment with a new doctor, trying to move forward and make progress. I made an appointment with Dr. Snell the day after my night at the diner with Jenny. I was doing my best to be present, just like everyone kept preaching. I was trying to be proactive. Dr. Snell said that the vast majority of people who suffered a break went on to live completely normal lives. I was doing what I needed to so that I could be in that majority. That included getting to know Jenny—because that felt normal.