“Ah, yes, Kerouac. When I first read that, man, I wanted just to get on a bus and run.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked, surprised and thrilled that he had read the book, too.
“Because it was a great book, and his was a voice that changed a generation, but I’m not Jack. Nobody is. You can’t re-live an experience that you’ve never lived before. You know what I mean?”
“Parker wanted to be him,” she said. Paul chuckled. “What?”
“Jack would never kill a woman, Anne, not even for love.” Annie knew he was right.
She suddenly stood, grabbed Paul’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. She pushed him hard, and he slammed against the brick wall, yelping. “What the—?”
Before he could finish, Annie kissed him. She pressed her entire body against his, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him deep, hard, and long. When he was good and kissed, when she felt satisfied that she had expressed everything she suddenly felt for this strange boy, she broke away and stepped back.
“Well,” he said, “that was much better than your speech.” She laughed.
“I’m sorry, Paul.”
“For what?”
“For talking over you. For not talking to you. For not taking even one minute to know. For being in school with you for four years and not being your friend. I’m sorry.”
“Look, Anne, it’s not your fault. It’s just the way life is. Hell, I didn’t know what you were going through, either. I didn’t make the effort. I just assumed your life had no room, no need for a guy like me so...” He shrugged, and they stood facing each other in silence. “Funny,” he said after a moment, “if we had just talked once, like this, we could have been friends.”
“I hope it’s not too late,” she said, and he smiled, held out his hand to shake hers.
“Hey, there, I’m Paul Jenks. I just graduated, and I’m heading off to MIT to get a degree in engineering. I’m an introvert, a science geek, a pot smoker, an only child, and I love Jane Austen. Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand and laughed.
“Hello, Paul,” she said, “I’m Anne Stewart. I just graduated, and I’m going to Davenport. But I’m still going to live at home, get a useless degree, and then find a husband, have kids and live the rest of my life in this town—” She stopped herself. “Only, that’s not really me anymore.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Anne, and let me say, I’m rather glad to hear that’s not you anymore.”
They dropped hands and headed back into the building. “You know what, Anne? You should talk to that guy who was here, the grief counselor. He really knew his shit, a real straight shooter, had good advice. No bullshit. He’d probably be good to talk to. Do you know who I mean?”
They continued into the school, into the gym, still crowded, music playing, people dancing, posing for pictures. They stood at the edge of it all and just watched. She felt better. Not just because of the pot, but all of it, the talk, the cry, the truth. She felt present in the moment, the distance gone.
Ellen materialized out of the crowd and grabbed her hand.
“Where have you been?” she said, out of breath. “Are you all right?” Paul started to walk away, but Annie grabbed his arm and held him in place.
“I’m fine, Ellen. I was just talking with Paul. He gave me some honest feedback about my speech.”
“It was awesome, don’t you think?” Ellen asked him. Before he could speak, Annie interrupted him.
“No, El, it wasn’t,” she said. “I didn’t speak to everyone. So it wasn’t awesome.” She looked at Paul, and he smiled. Ellen looked back and forth between them, confused.
“You know what, Anne?” Paul said. “You do speak well, however. Have you thought about politics?” She laughed and hugged him. “Nice meeting you,” he said to Ellen, and then he vanished into the crowd.
“What was that all about?” Ellen asked. Annie just shook her head. Ellen shrugged and hooked her arm under Annie’s, pulling her back into the party. Annie gave in and mingled, laughed, smiled, took pictures, and accepted congratulations on her speech. She was present. She was better, more focused.
“So, Anne,” Ellen's father said as the gym party broke up, and people started to move out to new places. “What will you be doing now?”
“Me?” Annie thought for a moment.
“Well, Mr. Lane,” she said at last. “I think I’m going to do something very, very important.”
21
She was by no means a veteran of the process but, she did feel more at ease this time. Nothing was at all different. Nothing was shocking. In fact, the well-oiled machine of the state penitentiary system was absolutely predictable. Right down to the length of time she had to wait before she was allowed into the visiting area. She didn’t feel as on display as she had her first time. She was still uneasy, and she still struggled with her reason for being there. However, the logistics of the place didn’t trouble her as much this time.
The only moment when things seemed strange was when she moved to the guard who checked her pass. She tried to go to the left, like the last time. But this time, she was told to go to the right with everyone else. She protested, saying that last time she had been told to go left.
“Last time your friend wasn’t behaving all that nicely,” the guard told her, “but he’s been a good boy lately so, he gets good boy rewards.” She gave him a very confused look, and he chuckled. “See, we’re here to rehabilitate.” At first this sounded good to her. “Just like dealing with any other kind of animal,” he continued, “you treat them a certain way, they respond a certain way. It’s just animal training in here.” At that, she feigned a smile but was now feeling sick. So she just followed the others who had been in the waiting room with her.
She walked into an open room filled with metal picnic tables. Other inmates were sitting with family members or whoever was visiting. There was no thick glass panel. There was no phone. They sat face to face, some of them even holding hands across the tables.
She stopped and suddenly, the fear taking hold. Parker would be able to touch her if he wanted to. Parker would be able to leap over the table and kill her if he wanted to. How long would it take a guard to grab him off her throat or pull him away from her if he stuck a homemade knife in her chest? She started to back away, move toward the door, when she heard his voice.
“You came back,” he said, his voice full of surprise, and sounding much kinder than he did before. She turned and saw him sitting at a table under a window. She had not noticed him when she first came in because he looked different.
His pale skin was now ruddy. He looked like he had put on some of the weight that was lacking last time. He also looked more muscular. His hair was now jet black and his left eye was swollen to the point of almost being shut. He stood up and smiled at her. She took a breath and then crossed to his table.
“May I hug my friend?” he asked a guard and before the guard could answer, she said no.
She stood on the opposite side of the table from him, and he stared at her. His smile did not falter. He did not seem angry about being refused the hug. He made a never mind gesture toward the guard and then, he sat. She waited and then sat as well.
“It's just not a hugging situation, Parker,” she said, feeling the need to explain herself. “I don’t feel safe or comfortable right now and I certainly do not feel like hugging you.” He nodded.
“I get it,” he said to her, trying, apparently, to make her feel more at ease. “It took my mother five visits before she hugged me, and she’s supposed to love me no matter what. You—”
“I still don’t love you, Parker,” she said sternly, then checked the room to see if she had said it too loud. No one seemed to be paying attention to them.
“You’re just a friend, I was going to say.” He finished his thought despite her interruption. “I didn’t expect you to be ready to hug me but, I thought I’d take a chance.” He smiled. She felt a little embarrassed. “So,” he said, working hard to
change the subject, make her feel more at ease, “I’m really glad you came back.”
“And why is that, Mr. Levitt?” she asked, sounding like a schoolteacher, hating her tone but, feeling at a complete loss as how to act. He laughed at her use of his last name and made a show of sitting up straight in his seat. This struck her as amusing, and she laughed at him and at herself.
“Because I was a complete fucktard the last time you came,” he said and she winced. Even though she had used the word herself, and she thought back to her friends having a sort-of intervention for her shortly after graduation, she still didn’t like to hear it. She certainly didn’t like to hear someone like Parker, once smart, driven, and going places, using that kind of profanity.
He caught her expression but didn’t apologize, just explained, “It’s the way of life here, Anne. You use the language, you play the part, you try to fit in, lay low, not call any attention—positive or negative—to yourself. It’s survival.”
“It just doesn’t sound right coming out of your mouth.” He shrugged.
“Would ‘I killed your best friend’ sound right coming out of my mouth?” he asked making air quotes. Annie felt her world tip over then right itself quickly. “Sorry,” he said, sincere but not really caring that much. “Like I said, way of life.”
She understood enough to let his language slide for the rest of their conversation, and did her best not to react. “So, why did you come this time, Annie?” The train ride, the walk, had not been enough for her to sort out why. Her mind seemed to be blank and then, she suddenly heard herself speak.
“Maybe because I wasn’t fair,” she said. He leaned forward, listening carefully. “I blamed you. I was angry at you when I left last time. And, you... Parker, blaming me for what you did was so—”
She stopped herself, surprised at the words wanting to come out, trying to control them but finally, she just gave up. “I was a wreck, Parker. I’ve been carrying that with me since I left. It’s colored everything. I was so mad, I hated you, Parker. I hated you so much. I had no idea why I came here, and even now, I’m not completely sure, but I think it’s because I need to apologize.” He started to speak, but she held up a hand.
“I fell in love with you, Parker,” she began again. “I denied it before but, if I’m going to move forward and put all of this behind me, I have to be truthful with you and myself. I fell in love with you. I kissed you, and it was... wonderful. I listened to you, saw all that passion. I heard your words, I read the book, it was all so exciting and new… And in the middle of it, I fell in love with you.”
“Well, why did you—?” She held up her hand again.
“I denied it because it felt wrong and sneaky. I hated going behind Connie’s back. I felt so awful all the time, and I told myself, it’s okay because you can’t choose who you love. I gave myself a free pass to be deceitful because I was in love for the first time. And, even if it’s true that you can’t decide who you fall in love with, you certainly can decide how you act—or don’t act—in a given moment.”
“Annie, I mean, Anne—”
“Parker, just hear me out. I’m not saying I thought I fell in love with you. I’m not trying to minimize or excuse it. I am saying, truthfully, I did fall in love with you. And then, Parker, I fell right out of love with you. It stopped, right there in my front yard, when you tried to make me think you’d leave Connie if I said I’d go with you. So I am not now, nor was I, harboring some hidden emotional connection to you. I stopped loving you, Parker, and that’s it. But I need to confess, that in order to stop loving you, I had to be, at one time, in love with you.”
Annie let out a long, low breath, releasing a tremendous amount of tension she had been carrying around with her, then continued.
“I know I told you—that I said the words—I love you. And for that brief time, I meant it. I also meant it when I said I didn’t love you anymore. What I’m sorry for is the denial. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry if I hurt you. And I’m asking you to accept my apology.” Parker thought for a moment and then reached his hands across the table. Annie pulled hers back and put them in her lap. He nodded at her and something changed.
The anger that had filled every bone, every muscle in his body last time, seemed to have vanished. Last time, her pulling back would have caused a violent outburst. This time, he was sedate.
“That’s pretty amazing, Anne,” he said, looking at his empty hands, but still smiling. “Thank you for coming here to tell me. Of course, I forgive you.”
There it was, the relief she was so hoping for. She had admitted her mistake, and he had forgiven her. That’s why I came, she told herself, to confess and be forgiven.
She looked at Parker, and he was still smiling. He seemed so very different. She might have asked him why the change, but all she really wanted to do now was leave. She had what she wanted and needed, and he seemed happy, too. He looked like the Parker she had once known.
She was suddenly so moved that she began to bring her hands up from under the table, to reach across and hold his hands for a moment. But Parker leaned across the table, still smiling, his face still glowing, but not with joy. With something else.
“You know,” he said, “apologizing doesn’t absolve you from the fact that you’re responsible for making me kill Connie.” She froze, her hands at the edge of the table. “Look at you!” he laughed. “Oh, how I wish I had a mirror and could show you the look on your face.” He sat back, taking her in like she was a photograph or a painting. She began to tremble. His smile grew broader.
“What, Annie? Did you think I’d just forgive you and then you could go on your merry way, live your life and just forget about ol’ Parker Levitt doing time? Is that what you thought, Annie?” She blanched, speechless. He chortled. People looked over to their table. A guard walked up.
“We all right here?” he asked. Parker turned to the guard and smiled broadly.
“We’re fine, sir,” he said. “My friend here, she’s just... goodness, she totally cracks me up.” The guard hesitated a moment, then nodded and moved on. Parker turned back to her, his smile now a toothy sneer. “You do, Annie. You totally crack me up.”
There was nothing she could say, which only made him laugh more. She sat frozen, feeling the eyes on her, his derisive laughter like quick jabs at her body. Her hands dropped back into her lap. After a good five minutes, he stopped laughing and sat grinning at her.
“I should absolve you, Annie, I really should. I should just say, ‘well, it was nice to have your love,’” he taunted her with the nickname and air quotes. “And ‘I’m responsible for my actions,’ and ‘you have nothing at all to do with that.’ I should, Annie, because it would be ‘the right thing to do.’ Like you always do ‘the right thing.’ Then, you could go back to your shitty little town and your shitty little heart—with your fucking little mind free and clear.” In spite of the nastiness to his words, he kept his voice low so as to not attract attention.
“You just go to school in Davenport, and get yourself a husband, get yourself knocked up, and get yourself that dream family and live that fucking pastoral life in your fucking home town and live happily fucking ever after. I should just do that.”
Annie wasn’t prepared for that. Not even when Ellen and the other girls had laid it all out, it had not been like this. Parker was purposely being flat-out cruel, and all Annie could muster was an ineffective, “Why…?” Parker heard the desperation in her voice and sniggered at her.
“What is it, Annie? Cat got your tongue? I heard you gave the valedictorian speech, but that’s the best you can do with me? Why-ee?” He said the word with a sarcastic two-syllable whine. Annie wanted to run, but could only sit in shock, which only gave Parker more leverage. He looked around, made sure no guard was close and then he leaned forward, put his elbows on the table and motioned with his head for her to lean forward as well. “Well, I’ll tell you anyway. Do you know why, Annie?” She shook her head but didn’t lean closer. “C
’mon Annie, do you want to know or not?”
Annie finally leaned forward, but not enough, because Parker crooked his index finger. In spite of herself, she was drawn to him with the same morbid fascination with which she watched documentaries about criminals on cable. When her elbows were sufficiently close to his on the table, he leered at her again.
“So, y’know Annie, at night, when I’m in my bunk and my cellmate is asleep I think about the other guys on the cell block. I remember what they’ve said about women they had on the outside. I think about their stories, and how they say they jerk off, just with the memory.” Her eyes grew wide, and she began to lean back again, but his hands shot out and grabbed hers, holding her in place. She gasped, but it was more like a wheeze, her throat was so constricted. Parker continued, his voice even more hushed and if possible, crueler.
“I don’t think about Connie, Annie. I don’t. Even though she was the only girl I’ve ever fu—” Annie wheezed again. “Sorry, Annie. Connie’s the only girl I’ve been with, but I don’t think about her. I think about you.” He cocked his head, his eyes spiteful. “I don’t think about you naked or kissing me. Oh no. I think about you, dragging around, every single day and the guilt of forcing me to kill your best friend. I think about how you beat yourself up. I think about how you will always see her death as the thing that ruined your small town life dream and that you, Annie, you are responsible for all of it. I think about that and, oh my God, do I get hard.” Annie tried to pull her hands away, but Parker tightened his grip.
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