by Bailey B
My cellmate, Killian, says I’m lucky. His charges took over a year to work through and he’s been sentenced to twelve years. Even if my mess wasn’t about to end with the possibility of freedom, he’d be leaving me. County jails won’t keep you if you’ve been sentenced to more than a year. His transport is set for Tuesday. As much as I want to be out of my cell, I don’t want to leave before him. Before getting the chance to say goodbye.
Killian has been a godsend. An unexpected protector from my side of the tracks. Mr. Harris explicitly warned me not to get in any fights, which put me in a shitty situation on more than one occasion. If not for Killian, I’d probably be dead or someone’s prison bitch.
Killian says I won’t owe anything for the protection. I remind him of his son, so he says. Besides being my guardian angel behind bars, he was a distraction. Listening to his stories helped keep my mind off of Ellie.
I hate myself for breaking her heart, but I know Ellie. She’s the type of girl to put her own needs aside to be there for the people she cares about. I don’t want Ellie throwing her life away, waiting for me. There’s still a chance I’ll be found guilty. A terrifying possibility that I’ll spend my entire life, or close to it, behind bars.
I can’t risk it.
I have to do what is best for Ellie, even though it kills me.
Mr. Harris and I walk down the hallway to meet my fate. Our shoes squeak against the linoleum. His, fancy Dockers. Mine, state issued loafers. White walls only make the fluorescent lights brighter. And then there’s the air, so cold it makes you shiver. Thank fuck the cuffs are off, or I’d have lost circulation.
Today’s bailiff opens an oak door and guides Mr. Harris and I to our side of the courtroom. There’s no crowd anxiously awaiting the verdict. No news crew here to report the story they once spun as tragic and heartbreaking. Most importantly, there is no El. She hasn’t been to one day of trial hearings. It’s what I wanted, for her to go to college and forget about me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hold on to a sliver of hope that she’ll show up. Especially today.
“Please rise,” the bailiff announces.
Judge Parker has presided over my case since day one. Mr. Harris says he’s fair and understanding, and that we were lucky. From what I can’t tell, he’s expressionless.
“Mr. Anderson,” Judge Parker says, his voice commanding the room. “You have found yourself in an unfortunate position. To come home and interrupt the murder of your mother is…” Judge Parker shakes his head. “Nothing shy of tragic.”
I refrain from looking down at my hands. I don’t like thinking about Mom and how I should have been there. If I had come home sooner, like I originally planned before Officer Harris got me that hotel room, I could have stopped this. I knew Clint was an unstable prick, and I still left. Killing Clint may have been an accident, but it’s my fault Mom is dead.
The judge folds his hands over his podium and says, “I’m very happy to announce that you, Asher Anderson, are hereby found not guilty.”
“Asher,” Mr. Walker says with a grin. He holds his hand out for me to shake it, then changes his mind and pulls me into a hug.
“I didn’t think we’d get self-defense.”
Mr. Walker chuckles and rests his hands on my shoulders. He pulls back and looks me dead in the eye, still smiling. “What can I say, kid? I’m that good. Besides, Jeff and I agreed that no one could argue reasonable doubt for this one.”
He runs a hand through my hair, like I’m six years old again. The sentiment is nice, but then I remember I’m essentially an orphan. My mom is dead and my dad wants nothing to do with me. My house has probably been ransacked, or worse foreclosed on, because I doubt our slum lord will be understanding. The realization that I have nothing and no one hits me like a sledgehammer to the nuts.
“Asher?” Mr. Walker sounds worried and I wonder if I’ve got a look or something. “You’ve got to go back with the bailiff for processing, but I’ll be there to pick you up.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I don’t know how long the exit process takes. I hadn’t even begun to think about it or how I’d get home, let alone where my bike is. Knowing Ellie, she probably moved it from the school grounds but the question is, where? I can’t call her; I doubt she'd even talk to me.
Had I known I was only going to be in here a few weeks, I wouldn’t have pushed Ellie away. I want to get her back, but I don’t know if that’s possible. Hell, I don’t even know where I’ll live after this.
“For a kid who’s just got his life back,” Mr. Harris says with a grin, “I thought you’d be happier.”
I look over to him but can’t bring myself to smile. “I am. I’m just worried.”
“About what?”
“About what happens next. I have no home, no money. Nothing. I can’t even go to college because classes have already started and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my scholarship.”
“Your scholarship is intact,” Derek Heiter says from behind me. He holds his hand out to Mr. Harris and shakes it. “Thanks, Jeff. I owe you one.”
“I didn’t do this for free, asshole.” Mr. Harris scoffs.
All three men laugh and I feel like an outsider trapped in an inside joke. “What are you doing here?”
“Kid.” Mr. Walker claps me on the back. “You two have some catching up to do.” He turns to Mr. Harris and says, “Want to grab a drink, Jeff?”
“Can’t. Hunter’s first birthday dinner is tonight.” Mr. Harris smiles proudly.
“I can’t believe Logan’s kid is that big already,” Mr. Walker says as they leave the courtroom together.
“We need to talk, son,” Derek says.
“You’re my sperm donor, not my father. Don't call me son.” The bailiff walks over to us. “I’ve got to go.”
“Here,” Mr. Walker says, handing me a plastic bag with a new set of clothes in it. “I figured you might not want to wear those.”
I left the jail with what I came in with. A dead cellphone that’s been shut off. A brown wallet with thirty-six dollars in it. Black lace-up boots. And blood-splattered clothes. My pants aren’t bad, only a speck here and there, but my button-down has seen better days. I reach into the plastic bag and grab the black t-shirt. “Thanks.”
Mr. Harris claps his hand on my back and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re gonna be alright, kid.”
I force a smile, wishing I could believe him. I have no job. No money. Nowhere to live. School started a few days ago, which means I missed registration and everything required to secure the scholarship I busted my ass for. Basically, I’m fucked. “If you say so.”
He chuckles and unlocks his Mercedes CLS with his key fob. I climb inside, and silently gawk at the car’s beauty. I haven’t been in a fancy vehicle like this since I was a kid. On my side of the tracks, the cars are old because that’s what we can afford. Shit that has no payments and something wrong. Unless you're one of Micklovich Romanov's low-life dealers; they drive the black Nissan 350Zs that loiter on our side of town.
The drive to the Walker house passes quickly. I look out the window with new eyes, watching in awe how freely people move about. The ability to go where you want, when you want is a privilege everyone takes for granted. You don’t realize how much freedom you have until it’s taken away. We pull into the Walkers’ driveway and there’s a car in front of the garage I don’t recognize.
My stomach churns with excitement and worry. I hope it’s Ellie, that she got a new car for graduation and has come home to meet me. Surly her dad would have told her I’m free. Once I get some money, I’m going to see her and apologize. That conversation needs to happen in person, rather than over the phone, but at the moment I don't have a pot to piss in. However, her being here means I have a chance and haven’t screwed everything up.
I climb out of Mr. Walker’s car, purposely slowing my movements so as not to seem too anxious. When we walk into the house, my heart drops. Ellie isn't here.
Derek is.
Susan,
Ellie’s mom, blows on a party horn. The kind people have when they ring in the new year. Her other hand shoots into the air and draws my attention to a Welcome Home banner. This isn’t my home, but I appreciate the gesture. I doubt party stores make You’re Out of Jail decorations.
Derek stands, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of what looks to be scotch or whiskey in the other. “Asher.”
“Come on, kid.” Mr. Walker walks in front of me, towards the display of food Susan has set out on the counter. “We have some things to discuss.”
I follow because I’m grateful for everything Mr. Walker has done for me, but inform them, “I have nothing to say to him.”
“Don’t be like that,” Derek states, hurt seeping into his tone.
“You can cut the act, Dad,” I reply, and he chuckles at the name. “Just because Mom died doesn’t mean you have to jump into the caring parent role. I’ve gone eighteen years without you. I don’t need you now.”
“Asher,” Susan says empathetically.
Derek holds up a hand, silencing her. Susan’s lips stretch into a tight smile and she nods. “I get it. I wasn’t there physically when it counted, but I did everything your mother asked me to. I even went to all of your football games.”
“Because Liam was there,” I interject.
Derek huffs through his nose, knowing I’m right. He can’t claim to have been at those games for my benefit. “I made sure you had a good education. I paid the child support every month.”
That makes my blood boil. Mom and I lived in poverty, both having to work to pay the bills. Even going as far as paying Clint his bullshit rent. I paid for the electricity and the water because Mom’s salary barely covered the rent. As for food, we had to fend for ourselves. “Bullshit. You never gave us a dime.”
Derek holds a manila folder out for me. I snatch it from his hands. The papers inside are gibberish. They look like bank statements, in an account with my name on it, but I don’t have a bank account. What’s even more confusing, the balance in the account is over a hundred thousand dollars. “What the fuck is this?”
“Your graduation present from your mother,” Derek says with a smile. “I gave Mary Anne five hundred dollars a month since the day you were born.”
“You what?” It’s hard to wrap my brain around this kind of money. Mom should have used it to fix up the house, not hide it in a secret bank account.
“Mary Anne had a bad feeling about Clint from day one. She was worried he’d find out about the money and piss it away.” Derek pauses to make sure I’m following. I am, but not at the same time. “We decided to make a joint account, one with my name on it and yours, so that Clint wouldn’t see the bank statements.”
“Asher.” Susan beams. “This means you can go to college and not have to worry about anything.”
I look from Derek to Susan, mouth slack, still processing. Derek chortles and claps his hand on my shoulder. “I wasn’t there like I should have been and I’m sorry, but that was what Rayna and Mary Anne agreed to.”
I shake free of his hold, pissed that he’s trying to pull the apologetic parent card. “How could you let Mom hide this kind of cash? We needed it!”
“No.” Derek’s tone hardens. “I told Mary Anne if she needed anything I was a phone call away. I may be married to Rayna, but I loved your mother. She chose to refuse my help, no matter how often I offered.”
“You’re lying! You never cared about Mom. If you did, you wouldn’t have abandoned her or me!”
“Asher,” Mr. Walker says, sternly. “I have the custody agreement if you want to see it. Derek’s involvement in your life was spelled out to the T. As long as you and Liam were under that age of eighteen, Derek could not reach out to you.”
“I don’t want your money.” I toss the file folder onto the counter.
“Want it or not, you need it. And me,” Derek insists. “I am the only family you have, son, and the reason you can still go to college this semester. I enrolled you in online classes and have been turning in your assignments so they wouldn't drop you. As for your football training, the coach and I are friends. He expects you bright and early in his office Monday morning. Without me, you'd have nothing. I don’t expect us to be buddy buddy, but I’d like a chance to redeem myself. What do you say?”
I want to tell him no, but he’s right. I need this money. “Fine, but I’m not staying at your house tonight.”
Derek chuckles and smirks. “I didn’t think you would.”
I see him leaning against an oak tree across campus. Long, denim clad legs crossed at the ankles. Hands tucked partway into his pockets. I blink twice, wondering why is my mind still doing this to me? I thought I was over seeing Asher everywhere. His face plagues my dreams, a constant reminder of how he's rotting behind bars because of me.
I thought the ghosts of Asher’s memory had finally moved on and was letting me have peace, if only while awake. I hadn't seen Asher in weeks. Not that I ever actually saw him. Usually, my heart raced at the sight of fair skin or dark hair, torturing me with hope. Occasionally, my mind would even show me a flicker of a broken memory, making me question my sanity.
I never told anyone I was hallucinating, drawing conclusions, and essentially driving myself crazy. Mom would have freaked and sent me back to my childhood shrink. Maggie would have scolded me that my feelings were irrational. She still thinks you can’t fall in love in six weeks. I want to agree with her. The logical part of me says she’s right, but my stupid heart doesn’t listen to reason. It still aches for Asher, even with Liam by my side again.
The apparition lifts his head and looks straight at me, a frown tugging at his lips. I shudder. It’s too real this time. The man, who is now moving towards us, looks too good to be true. I bite my lip and train my gaze to my feet. My mind is a cruel mistress. Today she teases me. Tonight she’ll taunt me. And tomorrow, she’ll do it all over again.
Liam wraps his arm around me and rubs my shoulder. “Lainey? Are you okay”
All of this has been an adjustment for Liam. He thought coming to college, and living in the dorms, would pull me out of my funk. It didn’t. Asher has a part of me I can’t find again. In truth, I think he’s had it since we were kids. I just never realized that something was missing. Now that I do, there’s no going back to who I was before.
“Ellie?”
I bite my lip, tears filling my eyes. This is a new form of torture. I’ve never imagined Asher’s voice before, but it seems like my mind hasn’t forgotten. It’s so beautiful it hurts.
“I…” I shift out from underneath Liam’s hold. I can’t do this, break down in public again. I’m ruining Liam’s college experience. He’s too focused on me and making sure I’m alright to party or date or do anything besides go to class. It’s been nice, considering Maggie got that last-minute acceptance letter to Berkley, but sometimes I want to be alone. “I’ve got to go.”
I quicken my pace but stop in my tracks when I hear, “Ellie, wait!”
A cold hand touches my wrist and I shudder. Liam doesn’t call me Ellie. He doesn’t feel like this. My hallucinations don’t feel like this, so real. I turn towards the hand touching me and my head spins.
“Asher,” I whisper, not sure if I said the words aloud or in my head.
He smiles, those perfect lips lifting in the corners. I remember what they felt like against mine, the blaze that engulfed me from the inside out. That same fire spreads through my veins, starting at my wrist until it consumes every inch of me. I look at the amethyst eyes before me, in shock.
He’s here.
Asher is here.
I thought the day I’d see Asher again I’d be filled with emotions. If I love him, like I think I do, I should be throwing myself into his arms, crying tears of joy, running my hands over every inch of his body while kissing him into oblivion. I should have butterflies or fireworks or something resembling excitement.
I have crickets.
And the only thing I feel is fe
ar.
“Ellie,” he says hesitantly, “it’s me. Asher.”
“What…”
Asher is here, and he’s real, and he wants to talk. Why does he want to talk? He said enough the last time I saw him at the jail, and he put the nail in the coffin with that letter. I don’t think I can handle it if this is some weird I forgive you bullshit like alcoholics do when they’re in recovery.
“What do you want?”
“Can we talk?” He looks at Liam, anger, confusion, and disappointment spreading across his face. Believe me, no one was more surprised than I was at Liam’s one-eighty in behavior. He dropped the asshole act and became the friend he was before high school ruined us. “In private?”
I shake my head and pull my hand out of Asher’s grasp. I clutch my wrist to my chest, still feeling the burn under my skin from his touch.
Asher sighs, shoulders falling forward as his gaze meets the ground. A fraction of a second later, he looks me in the eye again. “I’m sorry. I pushed you away, but I didn't know what was going to happen to me. I didn’t know how long I’d be in there and it wasn’t fair for you to wait, because I knew you would. I knew that you wouldn’t move on if you didn’t one hundred percent believe that I didn’t love you, but I do. Oh god, I do. I thought about you every minute of every day. And if I’m too late, I understand. If all I get with you are those six weeks with you back in high school, then so be it. I wouldn’t trade them for the world because it wasn’t fake. None of it was fake to me, Ellie.”
It wasn't… he didn’t...Oh my God!