The relationship with Paul had been nice in the way that he was loyal, selfless, and cared about me. It was a welcome change from the gross guys of the past, some of whom were fun but ultimately unfulfilling, and some who had nothing going for them but their looks. Paul had been different and I hated to give it up. But I had to be selfish. If I was unhappy tied down here because of Paul, I didn’t think either of us would be fulfilled. If only our circumstances were different.
Before I knew it, we had finished shopping. In an effort to actually get it done, Jenna had taken the shopping list from me. I had been zoning out and getting little done – besides coming to a resolution in my head. I had a decision by the time we reached the parking lot.
“So,” Jenna said, “I got everything on your list. You owe me. Did you figure anything out?”
“I did.” I still wasn’t positive I was making the right decision, but I had something I could go with.
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
“One more errand and then I’ll see Paul.” I opened my car door and started unloading the groceries into my car.
“Be gentle. From what I saw he was a decent guy.” She closed the car door on the opposite side and walked over to me. “I actually enjoyed his company, and he has good music taste. I guess I’ll have to go back to hanging out with you and the Bradleys of the world.”
I gave a small smile and rolled my eyes. “You’re not helping.”
“You’re right.” She gave me a hug. “I helped enough doing your shopping for you.”
Twenty-Five
Paul
Kelsey arrived at my place to talk to me the day after the mini-vacation crumbled. From the way the conversation had failed on the way home, I could tell this would be it. I was disappointed but I didn’t think it had hit me yet. I mean, I understood I was going to be without her, but I wasn’t feeling the effects of the separation yet. That would be miserable, but it had to happen. I had known our relationship had an expiration date on it ever since I met her. I knew my worth and she knew hers. Due to our situations, there just wasn’t any overlap in those worths. I didn’t blame Alisha or prison though – it was just a matter of getting back to where I wanted to be. I was foolish for thinking I could escape Target to do something I actually wanted to do, like be a park ranger or anything that required more schooling. Going back to school would just set me back financially, if a school would even take me. Getting my old job back would be stretch enough – I needed to focus on that. I had already wasted enough time filling out the forms and applications. I should have spent that time doing something fun with Kelsey before the time bomb went off and stripped me of her presence.
We sat on a bench outside my complex. She wore a worried look, but she still looked alluring as always. I didn’t say anything at first, working to take a snapshot that I wouldn’t forget. Once I got past the initial heartbreak, picturing her face would be nice as I recalled all the good times.
“Paul,” she said, interrupting my mental tangent. “I wish things were different.” She sat facing me on the bench, one leg off, one curled underneath her. She looked at me while she spoke. “Usually I don’t have to worry about the guy’s feelings, because they’re awful. But it’s just circumstances keeping us apart, so I don’t know what to say.”
So this was it. I knew it would be, but now I knew for sure. There was no doubt. Elbows on my knees, I stared off into the distance, feeling her gaze on the side of my head. “It’s okay, I know it wouldn’t work.” I took a deep breath and turned to look at her. “I’ll miss you, though.” I gave her a weak smile. Damn, I will miss her.
I was tempted to ask her if we could be together if I got a better job or when I finished my parole. Shit, speaking of which, I needed to call my officer. “Do you think I’ll see you again?” It was a vague question, one I had no idea how she would respond to, but it was better than the alternatives.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’d like to… someday.”
I nodded and gazed back out into the distance. It was hard to see a future beyond this moment. Surviving this was hard to picture – how would I be able to pick myself up? It felt as if nothing beyond this moment would be okay without her. She had been such a big part of my life recently – what would I become without her? Would I sink back to what I was before?
“Are you going to stop volunteering at the re-entry program?” I had almost forgotten we’d be seeing each other there. That would be fun.
“I actually hadn’t even thought about that,” she said, with a brief forced laugh.
“Yeah, same,” I said. “Hopefully it’s not too weird. Don’t let me stop you.”
“I won’t.” She grabbed my hand, possibly for the last time. “I’ll miss you, too,” she said, already knowing the thought of her being gone was wearing me thin. She stood and waited for me to get up. I followed her lead and looked into her eyes, taking another snapshot. Those eyes. My hands cupped her face. What was I going to do without her? I couldn’t imagine how I’d cope without Kelsey’s positivity in my life.
“Don’t move,” I said. “I’m memorizing.” She smiled, genuinely this time I’d guess. I leaned in and kissed her for the last time. Two short seconds later we were looking at each other again, her hands still in mine.
“You should still pursue hiking,” she said, “and keep looking for jobs now that you know what you want.”
It would be nice to have a job outside, enjoying the scents and sights of nature, but that was no longer in the cards. “Okay,” I said, dropping her hands. She turned and walked to her car. Once the car disappeared from my view I went back inside. What do I do now? What did I do before her?
Twenty-Six
Kelsey
I surprised myself by not crying on the drive home. Rather, I just was dumb. My hands gripped the wheel and I stared straight through the windshield. I felt and likely looked stupefied. I hoped I’d made the right decision. When would it that be evident? How could I tell?
Eventually, I arrived home. I walked in and went right past my mom. She had been off ever since I returned from the mini-vacation. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but now, more than ever, I had no desire to find out. I made a beeline to my room and sat on my bed, continuing my stupor in a horizontal fashion. I don’t know how long I lay there before Jenna texted me, and I relayed the news. I didn’t respond after that.
---
Over the next few days, everything reminded me of Paul. Grocery shopping reminded me of Target and any music reminded me of his guitar. My mother reminded me of him so I avoided her. Well, to be fair I usually avoided her, but I did so even more now. I couldn’t go an hour without thinking about him. It was frustrating.
---
It had been a week since we had broken up, and I found myself as I had every other night that week - laying in my bed, my mind focused on how things could’ve been different with Paul.
“Kelsey,” my mother said, neglecting to knock as she barged into my room.
My eyes glanced in her direction, my head too lazy to move from the pillow. “Yes?”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Something’s wrong?” I went back to staring at the ceiling.
“I’d say so.” I heard her footsteps near the edge of my bed. This was the first time she’d cared to enter my room in… months? A year?
“Ah,” I said. “I didn’t notice. Did you need something?” It sounded a little harsh to my ears, but I didn’t care enough to correct myself.
“Is this about that colo—I mean, that black boy?” She sat at the end of my bed.
“You’d be thrilled if I said it was.” I still didn’t bother looking at her, I only felt the movement at the end of my bed. “Do you have any streamers for if I say yes?”
“No streamers,” she said. I waited for her to elaborate, or to tell me why she was here. I had nothing to say. It took a minute of silence for her to get to the point. “I’m worried about you, Kelsey.”
I laughed. “Okay, Mom.”
“Why do you act like it’s weird for a mother to care about her daughter?”
I sat up against the headboard. “Really? Do I need to remind you of the wedding?” You’re an awful human being.
“I do just want you to be happy,” she said. “It’s my job to guide you in the best way possible. Sometimes it may come off a little heavy-handed, but I just want the best for you.”
How cliche. “Okay, so how do you feel about me dating Paul? Are you saying you’re fine with it if it’s what’s best for me?”
She hesitated. “But Kelsey, that’s not what’s best for you.”
“Isn’t this supposed to be when you tell me you thought about it and you want me to do what makes me happy? You know, a redemption arc or something?”
“A what?” She shook her head. “Trust me. I have over fifty years of life experience. You’d be much better with someone like Bradley.”
“Why?” I asked. Why was I even entertaining this?
Looking at me like I had three heads, she said, “Because he wouldn’t up in jail because of a lying girlfriend. They aren’t trustworthy.”
“Who is they?” I asked.
“Kelsey. Please. You’re all I have.”
“I can’t accept a mother who attributes traits and stereotypes to an entire race.” I crossed my arms. “Can you go?”
She stood. “Okay,” she said, walking to the door. Then she stopped in the doorframe. “But it’s true. It’s not an assumption or a stereotype I’m throwing around. Paul’s girlfriend did do that.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Google. But that’s not the point—”
I held up my hand. So, she’d researched Paul, no doubt in an effort to get dirt on him. But what was this she was saying about his girlfriend lying? “How do you know she was lying?”
“It was proven.”
“Then why did… nevermind.” I got off the bed and shooed her from my room, closing the door in her face. I strode to the computer and turned it on. Why had I not done this before? Was I too trusting? Well, no, because my subconscious hadn’t trusted him – creating all those doubts. I sighed. I should have realized anything like this would be on Google.
The first headline read ‘Local man arrested in drug bust – girlfriend gives tip.’ I clicked on it.
‘Portland resident Paul Hutchison came home from work to find police officers waiting for him.’ Paul had told me that. I skimmed to the last paragraph. “Hutchison is currently being held on bail. The Portland Paper has been told his girlfriend does not intend to bail him out.”
Okay, so everything so far fell in line with what he’d told me – not that the rational part of me thought otherwise. I went back and scanned the other headlines. ‘Paul Hutchison, local alleged drug dealer, charged for possession with intent to distribute.’ There were a few more about the court case, but nothing that wasn’t in the first article. I clicked the most recent headline. Scrolling to the bottom, I found an update. ‘Update: Paul Hutchison has been convicted after a strong testimony from his girlfriend on top of the physical drug evidence found at the scene.’ At the end there was a video. I clicked on the link.
“Channel Nine caught up with Alisha Durango, the girlfriend of Paul Hutchison, and received the following statement after the trial was concluded.
“You think you know someone,” Alisha said, shaking her head, “but sometimes if you’re unlucky things like this come out.”
The reporter nodded before asking, “Did Paul’s behavior change before you found the drugs and sent in the tip?”
Alisha pursed her lips and shook her head again. “No, he was very convincingly normal.” She went silent and closed her eyes. Very dramatic. I wasn’t sure if I liked this girl. Was it ex-girlfriend dislike or did Alisha actually seem sketchy?
“Do you have any idea why he turned to drugs? Or when?” the reporter asked.
“I think he was struggling with the nine-to-five life,” she said. She sniffed as if about to cry. “But I’m not sure when. He hid it well.”
“How did you ultimately find the drugs then?”
“Pure luck.” She sniffed again and looked around before accepting a tissue from someone. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” The reporter nodded and the camera swung to focus on only him. I went back to the main search page. Did Paul not like his past job? All he wanted now was to get back to it, so was that a recent development or was Alisha lying like Mom said?
I changed the search date to within the last two years to see if anything more recent had come up. I gasped when the search went through. There was only one recent article and the headline was ‘Local girl lies, boyfriend locked up but case not re-opened.’ I leaned back in my chair. What was this?
‘For some reason, the Portland media has ignored this troubling storyline. Paul Hutchison, is currently serving a five-year sentence, which had been extended in large part due to testimony from his ex-girlfriend. It has now come out that she in fact lied during this testimony and planted the drugs. Motivations remain unclear at this moment. Hutchison is scheduled to be released on parole, and serve the remainder of his term in public.’
My hand that wasn’t around the computer mouse was clenched tight. Once I realized that, I noticed my jaw was tight as well. I took a deep breath. Why had Paul been denied a retrial? Why was there no coverage of that? I closed the internet and shut off the computer before I found myself angry. I didn’t think this changed anything with Paul. Well, besides how I viewed him. I guess that did make a difference, but how much of one? I sighed. My thoughts had already been a mess, and this didn’t help. How could Paul manage to live and not be bitter after that? There were so many questions that needed answering, but I wasn’t sure where to get answers from.
Twenty-Seven
Paul
I sat on Mema’s familiar couch, drinking an orange soda, staring into space, and wondering how I got here. Mema was in the kitchen, cooking up something last-minute to fill my stomach, as she said. I wasn’t hungry – I hadn’t been hungry since I last saw Kelsey – but I would try to eat. I didn’t want to “wither away.” That was another Mema-ism. Coming here had been a good idea. Mema took my mind off Kelsey, even if only for a few minutes at a time.
“You’re too quiet, Paul,” she said from the kitchen. “Tell me what’s going through that big head of yours.”
I shook my head, smiling. Mema was ruthless. “I don’t know,” I said. “Should I have fought for her?”
She stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Do you believe you two should be together?” She retreated back into the kitchen.
That was a tough question to answer. It was a challenge to separate what was wishful thinking and what was rational. “I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“And why’s that?” she asked.
“The grocery store incident, my whole situation. I’m not sure if our lifestyles are compatible.”
She emerged from the kitchen again with a plate, and set it on the table in front of me. I didn’t think I had ever seen food so hot – the steam was rising to the ceiling.
“What?” she asked, noticing me staring at the food. “Does it need to be heated up?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m sure it’s warm enough.”
“Good, good.” She sat across from me. “Eat up then, Paul. And tell me why your lifestyles aren’t compatible.”
I took a brief moment to gather my thoughts. “She doesn’t understand the struggle really.”
“So? Then help her understand. How is she supposed to learn if you quit on her?”
“I guess,” I muttered. “But I don’t want to hold her back.”
“That’s a fair point.” She paused and gestured to my food. I hadn’t touched it yet. I picked up the fork and took a bite of macaroni and cheese, and she nodded. “That’s better. Is it possible that you only think you’re holding her back? Or that you can work around it? A relationship requires work,
and if you are looking for excuses for it not to be successful, then you’ll always find them.”
I nodded, taking another bite.
“It is possible that she doesn’t want deal with your situation,” she continued, “but how will you know unless you have a solid conversation about it? I bet you shut down after you got the call, didn’t you?”
“Maybe a little.”
She sighed. “Paul, I’m not always going to be here to whip your butt into action.”
I took another bite and felt my phone ring. I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the caller ID. It was a number I didn’t recognize, so I silenced it and put it back in my pocket.
“So do I need to summarize that for you?” she teased. “I’ll do it anyway,” she said, not giving me a chance to respond. “Take some time to think. Think of the relationship you had, the relationship you want, and the consequences. Think about what she said and what is holding her back. If you truly believe it’s something you can do, go for it. At the very least, you’ll get closure. Not this five-minute bench goodbye.”
“Right. I have a lot to think about.” My phone buzzed, indicating I had a voicemail.
“You do,” Mema said, standing and shuffling back to the kitchen. “I almost forgot the cake…”
I checked my phone while she was in the kitchen, and clicked voicemail. A man’s voice began the thirty-second voicemail. “Hello, this is Joel Ibanez of the Portland Park Police and I’d like to congratulate you on your acceptance into our ranger school...” I didn’t hear the rest of the message. My stomach dropped. Acceptance? To where? I hadn’t even applied. I leaned forward and placed a hand over my mouth. My stomach was just now recovering, although my heart still was beating too fast for comfort. I knew for a fact I hadn’t submitted anything. I gave up on that before Kelsey even left. Did she somehow turn them in?
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