by C. D. Gill
If it was possible, the man’s smile brightened a decibel or two. “I’ll see if the doctor is available.” With a quick punch of a button, Carli made a call and hung up a few seconds later. “If you’d like to have a seat, Dr. Cantella’s assistant will come get you in a moment.”
Xander waited three minutes before an older lady came to the desk and then over to his chair. He stood as she approached.
“Hi, I’m Joyce. Ethan said your mom is a patient of Dr. Cantella’s?”
“Ethan? His name tag says Carli.”
Joyce glanced over her shoulder and giggled. “Oh honey, Carli is his sister. Ethan sits at the desk while she takes a lunch break. He’s there for such a short amount of time that we didn’t bother making him a nameplate. Come with me.”
Xander followed Joyce past the desk and lifted his hand in an awkward wave. “Sorry, man.”
Ethan threw his head back and laughed a laugh that rivaled his megawatt smile in brilliance. “Happens every day.”
As they ascended the staircase in the atrium, Joyce monologued about the facilities, the many programs available, and the awards their institute had won over the years. “Dr. Cantella, of course, is one of the award winning-est doctors on staff here. Your mom is very lucky to have such a talented doctor to care for her.”
Lucky would not have been the word he used to describe his mom regarding her break in mental health that ended her in the institute in the first place. Joyce rounded a corner into what appeared to be a wing of offices. She motioned to the couch next to a big wooden door. “Dr. Cantella is with a patient right now but will be done in a few minutes. You’ll be disappointed to have to get up because that couch is so darn comfy.” She giggled again.
Xander sank so far into the couch he could feel the floor against his backside. In an attempt to relax, he rehearsed his story one more time. Depending on what Mom had told her, he’d stick as close to the truth as possible and pray the doctor would give him some insight. When the door cracked open, a deep male voice and a light female voice preceded their owners. Xander struggled to his feet.
This was it.
She was fairly young, but he might be able to work some answers from her. But when the woman surged past him without looking up, he turned his smile to the man standing in the doorway and sucked in a breath. What were the odds?
Ed.
Not a whisker on Ed’s hairy face budged a fraction so as to give away his reaction. He just blinked. “Come on in, son. Joyce tells me you want to talk to me about your mom.”
Wanted. Past tense.
Before he knew the doctor was a man who could see into strangers’ souls with a glance.
There was little compulsion left in him to carry through with the fact-finding mission any longer. Nevertheless, out of a somewhat morbid curiosity, he accepted Ed’s invitation. Were the inmates running this asylum? When he’d accepted a ride from Ed, the man struck him as retired or a hardware store owner with the way he drove and chewed tobacco. He’d been way off. Ed’s office of neutral tones and dark wood furniture was comfortable and inviting. Framed photos of Ed holding fish and posing with his family and wife shared wall space with a wide-variety of framed awards that looked prestigious solely because of the paper they were printed on.
“Have a seat. Alexander, was it?”
Xander nodded and perched himself on a stiff couch across from the chair Ed relaxed in. Not in a lifetime would he have seen this coming. No wonder he had x-ray vision of Xander’s soul in the truck that day.
“I’m glad to see you and I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t admit to at least a little bit of surprise. I certainly wouldn’t have guessed your mom was a patient of mine. What is her name?”
“Teresa Reinerman.”
Ed bobbed his head with his eyes narrow as slits. “Ah, yes. A teacher from Lakewood. I see some of the physical traits now, although I reckon I see more of your dad in you than your mom.”
Fantastic. Ed was starting to sound like the elderly relatives at a family reunion. “Dr. Cantella, I apologize for taking your time so unexpectedly, but I was really hoping you could give me some insight into my mom’s sickness.”
“I wish I could, but you’re not on the release forms for who I can share information with. HIPAA laws and all that.” Ed blinked and crossed his arms over his chest. “But I would like to know more about your situation though.”
This felt too much like therapy for his liking. Ed knew too much anyway. Xander pushed to his feet and took two steps toward the door.
“Your mom loves you. Always has. Always will. But she might not be in a place to help you right now, which is why I figure you were out hitchhiking on your release day,” Ed said. His words slammed into Xander’s chest, pumping his heart into overdrive. Intrigued, Xander dropped into the chair opposite Ed.
Ed stared at the carpet and let out a small huff. “If you’re anything like me, your release day was the one day you prayed about for years. All your hopes and dreams seemed limitless as the sky with your fresh start. The fear, the pain, the loneliness unleashed their fury on you every chance they got, but you scraped together the shards of what was left of your soul and shoved them in your pocket on your way out the door, hoping against all odds that what waited for you outside those walls would help you become whole again. You survived the darkest storm you’ve ever faced. That was your greatest triumph in all the years of life that slipped through your fingers. And when the ones you love didn’t show, it didn’t matter if they planned to be there but couldn’t, doubt grabbed you by the throat and screamed that you don’t have what it takes to survive on the outside again.”
Someone actually understands. Xander struggled to swallow against the tightness of his throat. Ed’s piercing blue eyes picked apart the deepest parts of him and laid him open and exposed. Where was the propofol?
Xander scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’d make me feel better if I knew I’m not the reason Mom had a mental breakdown and if that everything that has happened to me hasn’t torn apart my family like it has me. Because the guilt—the guilt is too heavy for me right now, Ed.”
“And what if your situation was the reason? What would that change for you?”
Not much, but he couldn’t admit that, could he? “I would…” The silence lingered as he looked for what he thought Ed might think was the right answer.
“Add more guilt to the already too heavy load to punish yourself?”
Well, when he put it like that. “Yes, that is what I’d do. To atone, if I could.”
“But it wouldn’t atone. It’d make you feel worse.”
He hated the truth. “I’m going to feel worse anyway. I’m going to find who set me up and wasted five years of my life. My family deserves to know I’m innocent and I have to know who hated me so much.”
“Alexander, you owe your family nothing since you have already told them the truth. It sounds like you are convinced that your situation has severed their loyalty to you. Do you think they no longer love you?” Ed crossed his ankle over his knee as if he dealt with lost love every day. He probably did.
“Love cannot exist without loyalty.”
Ed lifted his shoulders. “Don’t confuse physical absence with a loss of love. How would you have felt if one of your siblings was accused for a crime? Would you have omitted him or her from the family?”
“I’d like to think I would have shown up and fought for them and beside them, not been silent for five years.”
“Even if everyone told a different story than your sibling, would you have believed them?”
Xander sagged into his seat. Pressing his fingers into his eyes didn’t relieve the sting. “I’d like to have believed I would, but the truth is Dad’s got an iron grip on all of them in every way. He’s the puppeteer and always has been. I doubt it’s any different now that I’ve brought his worst nightmare to life and publicly shamed him. If the others did or do love me, I’m not sure he’s going to allow them to feel that way.”
A knock came at the door and Joyce poked her head in. “Dr. Cantella, your next appointment is here.”
Ed acknowledged her with a wave and stood with Xander. “Alexander, whoever framed you hasn’t won until they’ve broken your spirit and taken your will to live. Hold on tightly to those, because once you lose them you’ll have to walk through hell to get them back.”
Hadn’t he already paid a big enough price? Was hell worse than what he’d already gone through?
Xander extended his hand to Ed. “I appreciate your time.”
With a peculiar grin, Ed grasped his hand. “You know where to find me when you need me. Don’t let your pride stand in the way of that.”
The entire walk to the car Xander grappled with what had happened in that office. Ed cut into him, showed him the internal damage, and left the incision wide open.
Raw. Agonizing. Out of control.
Xander drove to the only place where he was allowed but not welcome. Home.
Taking the exit for Lakewood, Xander drove to Meineke Academy where his parents taught summer school until 3:00 PM. Xander circled the staff parking lot until he found their sedan parked in the usual place. At least that hadn’t changed. Dad liked to drive their vehicles into the ground. Frugality, he called it. Or was it fear of change?
The commute from school to home lasted five minutes on heavy traffic days, so he wouldn’t be waiting long. The street where he grew up was exactly the same with little upgrades made here and there. The road into the subdivision still bore the scars of harsh winters although well-meaning road maintenance people patched them over with tar snakes, a bandage where an amputation was required.
Pulling into the driveway felt incredibly nostalgic. He’d imagined this moment so many times over the years, but it usually ended with his parents welcoming him back with open arms and acceptance. The shed key pressed against his palm as he let himself through the back fence. The rusty lock opened a shed flimsier than he remembered.
Eight labeled boxes and three trash bags of clothes were what was left of his former life. Most everything of value had been given away, taken into evidence by the police, or sold to help pay the legal bills. He snagged a few books, a handful of movies, important documents like his birth certificate and social security card, and his clothes and lugged them to his car, then went back to the shed.
His bicycle, photos, dishes, and memorabilia would wait until he found a place to make his own. Whenever that was. The rest was nonessential to his life right now. How sad that at his age this was all he had to show for his life. At graduation, there were a thousand different scenarios that he’d envisioned for his ten-year plan. And staring at all of his worldly possessions housed in a rotting wood made a mockery of every single one of them.
He’d never done anything more illegal than breaking the speed limit. Sure, the opportunities presented themselves, but the tradeoff hadn’t made the crimes worth it.
A glance at his watch said that his parents would be out from teaching summer school soon. Before he left, he snagged his grandfather’s hammer, some screw drivers, and a rickety hand saw. They kept them out of respect for the past, but Dad hung all his good tools on pegs in the garage.
He backed out of the driveway and reparked four houses down, hoping to remain inconspicuous despite Chachi’s vintage status. The house radiated peace with the dark blue exterior and gray shutters with colorful flowers in window boxes. White trim outline added a visual pop to the house. Dad kept the lawn in perfect shape.
A large dent marred the street light at the end of their driveway where a pre-teen Lincoln had once tried to show Xander how to drive and ended with them both being grounded for two weeks. The basketball hoop, complete with rusted age spots, leaned in earnest over the driveway as if pleading to be released from its post. Its glory days were long over, but the hours of entertainment and calm it had provided made Xander smile. It was silly to be attached to things, to a place. Yet it felt the most natural response to answer home’s beacon of rest and healing.
At 3:07, a familiar sedan made its way up the street. He watched their progress in his rear-view mirror, their stoic faces came into view as Xander faced the opposite window so they could pass him without recognizing him. His appearance had changed since they last saw him in the courtroom but not enough that a mother wouldn’t recognize her own son. As the car bumped into the driveway, the garage door opened but they didn’t pull in. Instead, it stopped on the driveway and both doors opened. Mom stepped out, wearing dress pants, a flowy white shirt, and sandals. Her frame was thinner than he remembered, but her movements were graceful and her posture straight.
She followed Dad into the house and minutes later, Dad reappeared in jeans and a polo carrying a plastic bag. He got back in the car, closed the garage door, and backed out of the driveway. Xander tailed Dad at a respectable distance. When he pulled into the parking lot of Tom’s Hardware and Machinery, Dad’s friend Tom Cabe owned, Xander parked on the opposite side of the lot.
Dad strode to the entrance holding his plastic bag and disappeared inside. Xander waited a few seconds and then dashed over to wait at Dad’s car. When Dad finally appeared, he stopped short with his keys in his hand.
“Alexander. What are you doing here?”
Xander offered him a tight smile. “I wanted to see you and Mom since I haven’t heard from you in the last five years. Thought this might be the best way.”
Dad looked around. “It’s not a good time, Alex. We’ll call you when we can see you.” Dad had moved into defensive mode.
He could feel the anger swelling in his chest. Things were about to get ugly. “How? You don’t have my new number.” Xander crossed his arms and sighed. “We had a great relationship when I was a kid, but you just didn’t know how to let me be an adult. You didn’t trust me at my word. After years of reflecting, I realized you can’t handle anyone doing life differently than you. Even before my wrongful sentence, I wasn’t good enough for you.”
Dad huffed. “Wrongful? Still holding onto the plea of innocence, Alex? Really? Own up to your mistakes like a man and move on.”
Xander grunted. “I’m innocent. You’ll see.” He walked away with his chest split in two. Why couldn’t his parents love him for who he was? And believe what he told them for once?
Chapter 12
“So Tuck decides to get food in the beginning of the third inning and the man doesn’t come back until the middle of the fourth. The Rockies scored two runs and he missed it all, but he’s got an armload of food—hot dogs, nachos, cotton candy, a Pepsi and a Diet Pepsi so I could choose, peanuts, and those little ice cream balls that look like Nerds. I asked him what all the food was for and he said in his slow drawl ‘well, Miss Lucy. I reckon you’re a woman of diverse and complex taste so I got ya everything you’d need so I can set here and enjoy the game with you.’ And after we were done eating, he held my hand for the rest of the game.” Lucy sighed. “Isn’t that the sweetest? Tuck’s all kinds of romantic.”
“He is. And I’ve been telling you that for a while now.” Gia downed another sip of scalding tea while Lucy glared at her. At least Lucy wasn’t spending the morning heralding Grant’s praises as she had so many other mornings when she was sure Gia and Grant were a match fit for the altar.
Grant still infuriated her. And not in the way her grade school best friend’s parents used to tell them that boys infuriated girls because they liked them. The man knew she wouldn’t turn away someone like Bob who needed help, regardless of how angry she was at Grant’s insulting words and aggressive hands. Bob turned out to be a capable worker, not an initiative-taker like Xander or eager to please but still able-bodied. Because of that, she was having an early morning tea with Lucy while Xander took her SUV to go d
umpster-diving for more materials since they’d used all of the original batch already.
“Carlos called this morning and asked for more kids’ stools and dollhouses to sell at his store,” Gia said.
Lucy clapped her hands, giddiness for every bit of good news an apparent side effect to baseball and gluttony with Tucker. “I’m proud of you, Gia. Helping people turn their lives around like you have, it’s an honest-to-goodness trait that’s hard to come by in people these days. Unless you’re Tucker who lets people hitchhike with him occasionally.” The creases deepened over Lucy’s eyebrows. “Should I tell him to stop that? It could get him killed one day, right?”
“Luce, you can’t change people’s nature although I’m sure Tucker would try his darnedest to make you happy.”
Lucy grinned. “He would, wouldn’t he?”
“Let him be a godsend to hitchhikers. He’ll turn into a chained tiger if you forbid all the things that make him happy that also happen to be dangerous.” Wow, she sounded like her mother.
“Did I tell you me and Tucker are going out on Friday again?” Lucy said as she reorganized her case of muffins for the third time. “I’m hoping he makes his move.”
Gia cocked her head. “Exactly what kind of move are you hoping for from Tuck?” Poor man had no idea she had expectations.
Lucy grinned. “I’ve known the man for a long time and I’m virtually a spinster already waiting for him to ask me out. I think it’s about time the man commits to more than a kiss on the cheek. He’s slower than crystallizing honey.”
“Tucker obviously respects you. Besides, taking it slow isn’t a crime. Tuck is good for you.”
Even though Lucy waved off her words, Gia could see her point hit its mark. “I have it all planned out: he’s going to walk me to my door, say good night in the painfully awkward way he does when he doesn’t want to leave, and then I’m going to step in and kiss him full on the lips. He’ll be in shock, so I’ll go inside and watch from the window as he walks to his car in stunned awe. And maybe if the date goes really well, as in he kisses me before my scenario, I’ll send him a thank you text for a good time.”