by Curtis Bunn
To his surprise among the people milling about was Tamara, who gave him a pleasant look at first, but quickly turned it to the evil eye. As soon as he saw her he remembered that she had spoken of that being her Saturday morning breakfast spot. Still, he was amazed that he had run into her for a second time in three days.
Elliott could not tell if she was with the guy standing nearby or the woman to her left. So, he smiled at her and said, “Good morning,” as he kept walking. Tamara stepped out of the crowd, toward Elliott.
“How was your date last night?” she said.
“It wasn’t quite a date, but it was good,” he answered, looking over her shoulder to see if the young man was watching. “How do you know Nikki?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Why would I worry about it? Just asking.”
“So that’s your girlfriend?” Tamara asked.
“Don’t have a girlfriend,” Elliott answered. “Don’t do girlfriends.”
“Really? So what am I? A piece of ass?” she said.
“Is that how I made you feel?” he responded. “Come here for a second.”
He moved farther away from the crowd. “Tamara, you don’t have to get crazy with me. You know how I regard you.”
“What I know is that you were out on a date with a friend of mine last night and tonight you have another date,” she answered. “What am I supposed to think about how you regard me?”
Elliott’s impatience rose up, but he quieted himself by smiling and taking a deep breath.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked.
“I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I’d love to connect with you tomorrow. I have a spot I want to take you to.”
“I’m busy tomorrow, but free tonight,” she said.
He slowly nodded his head and looked away from her, up Peachtree Street toward prodigious buildings. When he looked back at Tamara, her face held an exasperated expression.
“Well, I understand,” he said. “Let me know when you are available and I would love to see you.”
He leaned in for a hug, but she took a step back. Elliott smiled again, turned and walked away. He did not bother to look back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Table Manners
Elliott spent the afternoon writing letters to inmates who had been proven innocent of the crimes they were convicted of and awaiting release from prison. He also reviewed a few cases the Innocence Project was considering. He was indebted to the Innocence Project for its work in gaining his freedom. And so, he was quick to speak at an event or to legislators or anyone who could be inspired by his story.
A nap from 4:30 p.m. until after 6 p.m. refreshed Elliott. It was too hot to sit outside, but he did endure the heat and humidity for a moment. He sat down and prayed. He knew God received prayers from wherever. But he often went to the balcony to pray when he was especially in need. He said being up there “brings me closer to God. He can hear me better.”
His prayers seldom were for him. This one was. “Dear Lord, you have spared me of so much and brought me back from a living hell. What I need most now is the love and reconnection to my children. They are an extension of me, and yet we are disconnected. Please allow this evening to be the start of our being a close-knit, loving family again.”
Those words settled Elliott, as prayer can do. He went back inside his place and showered and got dressed for the evening. He placed a photo he kept on a dresser in his room in the living room. It was a studio shot of Elliott and his kids when they were fifteen. The smiles were broad and genuine. A happy time. He hoped seeing it would help advance the evening on his behalf.
Just before 8, Elliott pulled out the items he would be cooking. He cleaned the Cornish hens and chopped up the cheese into small blocks. He pulled out a chilled bottle of Zolo Sauvignon Blanc and opened and decanted a Meiomi Pinot Noir. He lit a candle on the coffee table in the living room and one in the kitchen, near the stove. He was ready.
Then 8 p.m. came…and 8:15 and 8:30…and no sign of his children. His emotions went from concerned to disappointed to angry. And just as he was about to become furious, the doorbell rang. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Elliott made his way to the door and looked through the peephole. He could see Danielle smiling and Daniel expressionless. He opened it and smiled.
“You had me worried,” he said. Danielle walked into his waiting arms. He hugged his little girl and closed his eyes. Her embrace felt so warm and was so comforting.
“Come on in,” he said, and Danielle cleared the threshold. Elliott hugged his son, but Daniel did not hug him back.
“Good to see you, son,” he said into his ear.
“Yeah, okay,” Daniel said. Elliott let him go and Daniel walked over to his sister. Elliott took his key and locked the deadbolt, in case things got out of hand and they tried to abruptly leave. He was determined to settle things that night.
“Why couldn’t you call your old man and tell me you’d be late?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Danielle said. “It was my fault. I went to the mall with Mom and she had me out there too late. I was hurrying up so we could get here when we did.”
“I hope you’re hungry; I’m about to throw down,” he said.
“You haven’t cooked already?” Daniel asked with frustration in his voice.
“I see someone is hungry,” Elliott replied. “It won’t take long; forty-five minutes. Everything is ready to go into the oven. Remember how I used to cook for you all?”
“Eat everything right out of the oven,” Danielle said.
“That’s right. How about a glass of wine?” he said.
“I see you still have to make a big production out of cooking,” Danielle said. “Do you know I do the same thing now?”
Daniel gave his sister an angry look. Elliott ignored it.
“Aww, baby, you do?” he said. “That makes me feel good.”
Danielle washed her hands in the kitchen sink and retrieved the wine out of the refrigerator. “Daniel, you like red, right? There’s a Pinot over there and the decanter and glasses, too,” Elliott said, pointing. He decided the best way to deal with Daniel was to act as if everything was fine and see where that took him.
With wine in hand, Elliott called them into the kitchen. “You know what comes now.”
Instinctively, they placed their glasses on the counter and held hands. Daniel’s grip on his father’s hand was limp. Elliott ignored it and prayed.
“Gracious Lord, bless this food that is about to be prepared. And we especially ask that You bless this family and let the love You put into it stay with us and carry us through challenging times. In Jesus’ precious name, we pray. Amen.
“Now, let’s have a toast,” Elliott added.
“Really?” Daniel said. “Is that really necessary?”
“You don’t want to toast, don’t toast,” Danielle said. “Daddy, I’ll toast with you.”
Elliott stared at his son, who could feel his father’s glare. “You do the toast, Danielle,” Elliott said.
Raising her glass, she said, “To a wonderful evening with family.”
Elliott and Danielle tapped glasses. They looked at Daniel. Without looking up, he raised his glass and his father and sister tapped it. Elliott smiled.
“Danielle, turn on some music and watch me work,” Elliott said. “I’m making one of your favorite meals.”
He stuffed the Cornish hens with Vidalia onions and seasoned them with Nature’s Seasons, roasted garlic powder and crushed rosemary. He boiled and seasoned the elbow macaroni with Kosher salt and ground pepper, strained it in a colander and poured it into a pan. He added his secret ingredients: sugar and catsup and mixed it until the noodles were a darker color. He added the pieces of cheese and milk and placed it in the oven, alongside the Cornish hens.
Elliott turned around to see his kids laughing among themselves and flipping through old photo albums, and it all felt so normal, so wonderful. He si
pped his wine and admired the vision.
“In about forty-five minutes, we’ll eat,” he said. “In the meantime, let’s talk. Let’s catch up.”
“You start,” Daniel said. There was sarcasm in his voice. Elliott ignored it.
“Sure, I’ll start,” Elliott said. He and Danielle sat on the lush couch and Daniel in a single leather chair. “I am good. My health is good, according to my last checkup. I’m walking almost every day. Still doing work for the Innocence Project; did some today, in fact. Been missing you guys a lot. So it does my heart good for us to be here like this.”
“Would be better if Mom were here, wouldn’t it?” Daniel said.
“Daniel…” Danielle whined.
“It’s okay,” Elliott said, tapping his daughter’s leg. “Yes, it would be nice if your mom were here. But I really wanted it to be about us reconnecting.”
“As if she would come,” Daniel cracked.
“Actually, I spoke to her yesterday and she asked if she could come tonight,” Elliott revealed.
“What?” Danielle said.
“Yes, but I told her it wasn’t a good idea. I wanted to spend time with my children with no distractions.”
“So, Mom would be a distraction?” Daniel said.
“She’s not here and she’s still a distraction,” Elliott said. “Listen, I love Lucy—hey, I never thought about it being the name of the TV show—but anyway, I will always love your mom. But you and your mom have been good for the last few years. I, on the other hand, have not been able to spend much time with you.”
“I understand,” Danielle said.
“So what’s been going on with you all?” Elliott said. “Daniel, how’s your internship with The Atlanta Journal-Constitution going?”
“Fine,” he said.
An awkward silence filled the room. Elliott refused to say anything. Danielle, too. Finally, after several seconds, Daniel said, “It was a little frustrating at first. They weren’t giving me any real writing assignments. But I had to cover a major accident on Interstate 285 in Cobb County—a terrible scene—and they started to believe in me. So, I have been doing a lot since then.”
“I’ve been reading your articles,” Elliott said.
“You have?” his son asked.
“Yes. I liked the piece you did on Mayor Reed and his efforts to combat crime in certain areas of the city.”
“You read that?” Daniel asked, sounding amazed.
“I read all your stories. Stopped buying the paper until you started your internship,” Elliott said. “I see your name in the newspaper and I smile every time. Makes me very proud.”
“Me, too, Daddy,” Danielle said. “I can’t believe this knucklehead is following his dream.”
“And what about you? The London School of Economics?” Elliott said to his daughter. “That’s pretty amazing. That means you’re kind of smart.”
“I’m excited about living in London, but a little nervous, too,” she said. “I’m not worried about doing the work.”
“What is it then?” Daniel asked.
“It’s being away from you, Daniel,” Elliott interjected. “You two have been together every step of your lives for twenty years—longer than that when you count your time in your mother’s womb.
“I bet you all haven’t even talked about it.”
Neither of them said anything. “And you know why?” Elliott added, “because it’s something you’re both afraid of. I have been going to my therapist long enough to learn something, and the fear of the unknown is a powerful force. You both realized there would be a day when you’d separate. But for it to be a few months away, it’s scary.”
Again, his kids did not speak. “I’m going to go on with my psychoanalysis: I think—and this is all coming to me right at this moment—that you, Danielle, are ready to close our distance because you’re going out of the country for a year. You have enough to deal with; you don’t want not being close to the father you love being something hovering over you.”
Danielle looked into her dad’s eyes before taking a sip of wine.
“Daniel, you have problems with me, sure,” Elliott continued. “You believe I broke up our family. That was a reason to be upset with me. But now, since we’ve known Danielle is going to London for a year, you’ve been angry and directing it at me. You didn’t know what to do with your feelings about being separated from your sister, so I was the easy target to take that anger.”
Brother and sister looked at each other. Their father was right. They had not addressed being apart for the first time. Daniel was excited and proud that his sister was accepted into such a prestigious program. But he quickly considered the ramifications of being separated from his twin, and did not like them. Likewise, Danielle was proud when she received acceptance, but also terrified that her family would totally fracture while she was in England.
“Daddy, I…I don’t know what to say,” Danielle said.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Elliott said.
“But you’re right,” she said. “Daniel, how am I going to do this without you?”
“The selfish part of me wants you to stay—or for me to move to London, too,” he said. “The selfish part of me is stronger than the other side of me. I don’t know how this is going to work out, but we’re going to make it work.”
“You’re going over there with me in September, right?” Danielle asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” his sister responded.
“It’s the selfish side of me talking,” Daniel answered. “It might be easier to say bye to you here than in London.”
“No, I want you there with me for at least a few days, to help me get settled,” she said.
“I was just thinking of making it easier for both of us,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I can be honest with you, right?”
“You’ve only been honest with me, so you’d better not stop now,” Danielle said.
“I don’t want you to go,” Daniel said. “I’ve wanted to say that ever since you got accepted. I know it’s selfish. I know it’s not right. But it’s the truth.”
He rose from his seat and walked over to the wine and refilled his glass. Daniel stood there a few feet from his sister as she began to cry.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“Don’t cry,” Daniel said. He put down his drink and sat on the couch between his sister and dad. He hugged her. “Don’t cry. I know you have to go. If you had gotten accepted and told me you weren’t going to go, I would have made you go. I’m just being selfish. If this is the reason for us to be apart, then it’s a good one.”
Elliott watched all of this in silence. Finally, hesitantly, he placed his hand on his son’s back as Daniel held Danielle. “It’s going to be all right,” Elliott said. “What’s that thing on the computer? Skype? You can do that as often as possible. Nothing can replace actually being there, but you can at least be in steady contact.”
“Yeah, Dad’s right,” Daniel said. “We’ll stay in touch, no matter the distance or the time difference or whatever. And after a while, we’ll be so into our worlds that we’ll be fine.”
“But I don’t want to be fine not being around you, Daniel,” she said.
“I don’t want it, either,” he said. “But we knew it was going to happen at some point. This is our time to grow up, but not apart.”
Elliott found himself getting emotional, seeing the love his kids expressed for each other. It was exactly what he and Lucy had hoped for their children and tried to instill in them. They hardly ever had conflict as small children, which was strange, and when they did Elliott made sure Daniel took the lead role in resolving the issue and protecting his sister. That upbringing served them well.
They double-dated when they went to their high-school prom. Once, when they were juniors in high sc
hool, Danielle had a stomachache and stayed home from school; Daniel stayed home to take care of her. And when Daniel sprained his ankle playing basketball and had to use crutches to get around, it was Danielle who carried his books. They decided on a college together; there was never a moment’s thought of one going somewhere the other would not.
Elliott reminded them of those occasions and more over the following thirty minutes or so. “With love like that, how can you not feel funny or sad about not being in the same place,” the father told his kids. “But, if you look at my life, you know that everything will be all right. Your separation from family is voluntary and will only make you both stronger, better people.”
“You never talked much about being in prison to us,” Daniel said. “We read about it, the old stories about when you were released. But why didn’t you talk about it?”
“When you were really young I was trying to protect you from that. I didn’t want you to be jaded about the world,” Elliott said. “But when you got older, your mom and I decided you should know about it so you wouldn’t be naïve to the world. In the end, we’re a product of our experiences and that experience, as terrible as it was, helped shape me.”
“But how, Dad?” Daniel said. “I asked you once about whether you had gotten over being locked up for something you did not do, and you said, ‘I’m still getting over it.’ Are you over it now?” “It’s been twenty-something, almost thirty years since I was exonerated,” Elliott said, “and I still haven’t gotten over it. I came to realize I’ll never get over it. It was too much to ever let go. I saw people get killed, men get raped, lived in terrible conditions…Every day for almost twelve years was like a nightmare.
“I became a product of the environment. I did what I had to do to survive, which meant I stabbed a couple of guys with homemade knives. Thankfully, they didn’t die, but they understood I wasn’t going to be violated. It’s a rough existence. There was a point where I never thought I would be a free man again. You can’t know what that feels like, to have given up hope of being free.