by Matt Shaner
“Has our friend come by?”
“For an hour. I tuned him out after ten minutes, but the morphine makes it better.”
“When are you able to leave?”
“In a month. He said he would delay things enough so I can come in and testify.” We paused for a second.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” The room darkened.
“You could have told me.” He did not make eye contact.
“It was the only way out.”
“Maybe for you. You don’t have a child. You were only looking out for yourself.”
“Don’t you see? This is all we could do.”
“After everything, you think we aren’t in danger?”
“I know we’re not out of the woods yet.” He was staring out of the window and did not seem to see me. I remembered an old story I read in high school about two patients in a hospital. One had a window view and the other didn’t. Every day, the guy with the window would describe how beautiful it was outside. Finally, when he died, the other guy asked to be moved, excited for the new view. When he was wheeled to the new location, he looked outside, and all he could see was a brick wall. Apparently, the other guy made everything up with his description of the outside world. It looked like Shawn was finally seeing the brick wall.
“She doesn’t want me to testify.”
“Who?”
“Erica. She says to stay out of it.”
“We need to be there.”
“You really want to relive it? You want to go back? Remember how it felt when he moved before we threw him into the fire?” A doctor walked by, and he stopped talking.
“Don’t forget. You’re the one who did it.” I walked out.
Chapter Forty-Two
Home that Night
When I turned into the development, it looked surreal to see the road clear. The driveway was empty, and everything felt still and peaceful. Our downstairs lights were on, and I knew that Val liked things lit up. Going home was not a delightful proposition for me, but there was no choice. Val hadn’t called all day, and I was scared to talk. The attorney had me reviewing everything I was going to say for practice. Speaking off the top of your head was murder in court, he said. I laughed at the pun but hated myself for it.
Visiting Shawn did nothing to help. His words stuck with me; and hopefully, he wouldn’t change his mind. A primal fear in life is that we can never truly control someone else. I wished I had a window into his head or at least was a fly on the wall of the hospital room. If he talked, everything would fall and end up on top of me.
I opened the door, and Val was standing in the kitchen. She made dinner, and it sat on the table. She smiled and hugged me. I felt her shake when the tears started. We stood there for eight minutes by my count on the microwave clock. All throughout our relationship, times of trial had brought us together. We faced each challenge head on and pulled through. She cried in my arms, and when she finally looked up, I knew she would be with me.
That night we slept well. It was the most peace I would have for a while.
Chapter Forty-Three
The Next Day at Work
The mornings over the past few weeks were not the greatest. Everything felt fake and just a copy of reality. Sleep came for a few minutes at a time. The majority of the night was spent staring at the shadows on the ceiling, and by the moment the alarm went off, my eyes were red, and my mind was totally gone.
I woke up this morning to the realization that I did not get up in the night and walk the floor. The haze of sleep was not sitting over the room. Val slept at my side, and despite everything, I felt ready to go to work.
The drive to work was the same as always. I sat for twenty minutes in stop and go traffic. Everyone looked thrilled to be in a Monday rush hour. People were honking, arguing, yelling and playing music too loud. The day felt right to the world.
I arrived at the parking garage and walked to the building. We, the employees, were issued badges that most of us kept in our wallets or purses. Mine was in my wallet, and when I swiped it on the scanner like usual, nothing happened. After four tries, I called my boss, and he let me in.
I sat at the desk and powered everything up. A meeting reminder popped on the screen telling me that, in five minutes, that same boss wanted to see me in a conference room. Things were not looking good.
The room was small, like the one where I met the lawyer for our first negotiation. This one had two paintings of dogs on the wall and multi-colored paneling to cover the rest of the space. The patterns prevented my eyes from settling. My boss walked in two minutes late. He sat down from me on the diagonal.
“Are you wondering why your badge was shut off?” he asked. He wasn’t wasting any time.
“Sure.” At this point, anything would push me past the limit, and caring did not make any sense.
“After the recent developments, we think its best that you take a little bit of your sick time.”
‘I have three days left.” We were nearing the end of the year, and it was a true statement.
“Now you have thirty. Thirty days of disability. What do you think?”
“And why would I take this?” I sensed what was coming.
“We think it’s better than you coming in. The clients would feel better, and so would your coworkers.” He still smiled for some reason. I mentally inventoried my coworkers to think who would have told him to give me the temporary axe.
“Like who?”
“Now you know I can’t get into the specifics. It’s just not working out.” He stopped smiling. That was the kiss of death. He pulled a clipboard from his lap and handed it to me. The front was piece of paper to sign. He told me it was a release form and acceptance of the terms offered. I would take the company minimum for long-term disability and recover from my trauma. They even had a write up from a fake psychologist. I signed the form.
“Do I get to clean out my desk?”
“We’ve taken care of that. Your personal items are at my desk.”
“Well, I think we’re finished,” I said and stood. He tried to shake my hand, and I walked right by him. I felt the blood rush to my face. The rage was new and something I hadn’t felt since that night with Bryan.
I saw a printer paper box next to the boss’s desk, and it was half full with pictures and small trinkets of my time there. I lifted it up and turned to the door. The feeling of all the eyes in the room was not pleasant. I heard the boss walking behind me. Before we arrived at the double glass doors, my limit finally came. People were craning their necks. Conversations stopped. The eyes of the area were settled on me. Time seemed to freeze. I heard the drop of the box, and then I heard the sound of it hitting the floor. I remember seeing the art on the walls and taking it in one last time. As I turned, I felt the vibration in the floor from the boss stopping. The air from the vents froze, and I faced him.
“One more thing,” I said. I landed a right cross to his eye.
I made it to the car and off the facility before security could find me. Something about driving away from it was freeing. I’d quit three jobs in my life and felt the same great release each time. I don’t know why this one was different. It just felt better. When you finally decide to get in touch with the rage inside, it makes you even more human. The barrier between my idealized self and reality was thinning. I didn’t know which side was winning out, but it did feel like becoming whole. Val wouldn’t be home, and the prospect of a day to myself was scary, but it would be a good time to reevaluate everything coming up to the trial.
The house was quiet when I pulled into the garage. The feeling of mid-morning sat over everything. Growing up, I would spend the summer days at my grandparents while my mom worked. Marking the passage of each day was something I became very good at executing. The mornings felt new. The afternoons still held a chance of possibility. T
he nights, for a child unable to do anything, were the end of the line.
This moment existed directly in the realm of chance. I felt great, being out of the hands of faceless corporate America. I made coffee in the kitchen and grabbed the novel that I was working my way through. After the coffee finished, the book ushered me into a home on the couch for a few hours. An hour into reading, I started to nod off. I put the book on the coffee table, put my feet on the couch and started a nap. In the beginning of a dream, the phone woke me up. The caller ID stated it was from a correctional facility. This didn’t feel right, but I picked it up.
“I knew you would answer,” Julia said. I almost dropped the phone.
“What?” It was all I had at the time.
“I’m impressed. I really am. You’re good at betrayal.”
“I’m good at it? Let’s not forget what happened here.” I felt courage coming up to the surface.
“No, let’s not.” I didn’t like the way she stopped after that. “I just hung up with your friend.”
“I thought you had one phone call.”
“That’s funny. I explained everything to Shawn. He is going to refuse to testify.”
“What’s there to explain?” My voice shook.
“Oh, how about using him to get your way out of trouble? How about him almost being killed?”
“You’re lying, like you did before. I know the truth about you.”
“Do you now? I’ll let you enjoy your time and this trial. We’ll talk again after I’m free.” The receiver clicked, and the dial tone sounded in my ear. I put the phone back on the table and dropped down onto the couch.
After a minute of thought, I picked up the phone and called Shawn. He didn’t answer.
I explained things to Val, and she, to my surprise, was okay. She didn’t enjoy my actions at work, but there wasn’t anything that would change. I told her about the phone call. She wanted me to call the police or the lawyer or the jail. Someone had to stop this from happening. She said Julia had no right to be calling. I agreed, and I could see her getting emotional. She called her boss that night and took a long weekend so we could spend time together. The time was needed, and I enjoyed every minute.
Chapter Forty-Four
Leading up to the Trial
I wish I could say here that having time off was a bad thing. I wish I could tell you that I hated all of it, but that would be a lie. The paychecks kept coming as I knew that the forced vacation was illegal and would report it if the checks stopped. Val was back to work by the time the trial came around, and I was on a routine of waking up late and preparing myself for everything with relaxing as much as possible.
The phone call from Julia scared me, but I rationalized it away. There was no chance she could have any more influence from prison. She did so much when she was free, but those walls and bars had to limit her power, didn’t they? In terms of Shawn, I knew he was angry before, and she could be persuasive. I would have to go over there as soon as possible. A few days after the phone call, the chance came.
I started to scout his place in the down time. I noted the day he arrived from the hospital. A daily routine was easy to track when you had the time to watch. The day Erica decided to go back to work, my pulse rate rose. I knew the time was finally there. It was a Wednesday morning when I decided to take my chance.
I waited until he was home alone, and I walked across the street. The day felt like all the others, calm and surreal. It felt like walking through bath water. His house looked like it did every other day. I made my way to the door. By this time, it was nice to not see any more surveillance vehicles on the street. I knocked on his door and waited.
After an eternity, I heard some shuffling inside. The door creaked open, and Shawn looked out around its frame. He ushered me inside. He was not a pretty sight. He stood in a shirt and gym pants with a bandage still wrapped around his throat. His eyes were large dark circles, and he drifted through the house like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Have a seat.” The words squeaked out when he spoke. He talked in a hoarse whisper. I thought I noticed the bandage rise with his exhales, but I forced the thought out of my head.
“How are things?” I asked. He led me into the living room. The couch was dented from constant use. A few snacks were laid out across the room. A trash can sat next to the couch. A set of supplies from the hospital was on the coffee table with a pile of gauze, bottle of painkillers and a cold pack. He was ready to stay in one place for a long time.
“How do they look?” A series of coughs racked him. For the first time, I noticed his weight loss. Compared to the man I met for the first time, this was a skeleton of his old self.
“Have you talked to anyone interesting recently?”
“Julia? Of course. She called you too.” He wasn’t looking into my eyes. The fact that he knew this was not comforting.
“She did. She should not be a factor anymore. She told me you weren’t going to testify.”
He turned to look at me. “I’m reexamining my motives,” he said. He kept his stare at me to read some kind of response.
“What’s to change?” I felt my temper come up, and I tried not to let it loose. “We know how things went.”
“You could have told me.” He repeated himself louder, and the amplification put him in pain. He winced, and a spot of red showed through the bandage on his neck.
“We’ve been over this.” I tried to stay patient.
“I’m tired. Did I tell you that? Tired of the lying, tired of the violence, tired of everything. I just want to be normal again.” Something small changed in his eyes.
“We all are. You know that. This trial is the end of things. A few weeks, and we are done. We aren’t even suspects.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“What do you mean?”
“She said she told the defense lawyer everything, and they plan to use it all. It will be a game of who do you believe, and the grieving widow always wins out.” He coughed, almost to accent the point.
“You can’t see it that way.”
“Why not? She hasn’t lied yet.” He was right.
“Look, we’ll get through this.”
“I held my child today.” A tear rolled down his face. His words, already choked by his wounds, choked even more by his emotion. “I almost lost that. That one thing, more then everything else, your lie almost took from me.”
I had nothing to say. “Will you testify?”
“I’ll be there. I don’t know on which side, but I’ll be there. I think it’s time you leave.” He gestured a hand in my direction.
“Talk to me.”
“I said get out.” This act was getting annoying.
“Talk to me. What are you doing?”
“Don’t make me force you out.”
“That’s a lot coming from a guy with a hole in his throat,” I said. This was getting bad. He stood up off the couch. I didn’t see that he picked up the trash can that was next to the couch. He took two steps closer.
“Just leave. Why don’t you leave?” I didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction of winning on this one.
“Sit down. Come on. There is no need to make this complicated. Let’s just talk,” I said. He kept advancing on me. I started to walk backwards. I was closer to the door when I stopped moving. I put my hands up in a defensive motion. He swung the can. I ducked, and it hit the wall behind me. It dented and scattered bits of trash all over the floor. I took my chance and ran out of the house.
Chapter Forty-Five
Shawn’s Downhill Slide
The confrontation with Shawn occurred around two weeks before the trial. It only served to increase my nerves and reservation about the whole thing. The attention from the press had moved in a curved manor with the increased attention initially, t
hen backing off. Now as we neared the trial date, it was increasing again. They wandered in each day, looking for a comment or story line. Some serious news outlets would arrive along with the tabloids.
I spent these days writing notes, which would become the first draft of this story. I tried to get things in order and consider what would happen if Shawn flipped his story. I met with counsel more times. Val met with him, and even though she didn’t really trust him, she prepared to testify if needed.
Nothing really passed easily in those days. They all ran together, and the minutes slowed down. The novelty of doing nothing was fine until the paranoia set in. I jumped every time the phone rang, afraid it was Julia again. I found myself starting to watch Shawn’s house and wonder what he was doing. It was irritating to no end to realize that I had no influence on the situation.
Sleep started to gradually evade my nights. My mind ran overtime. I don’t know if you’ve ever had nights where your mind just would not turn off. It strays from the situation to anything; song lyrics, movies, imaginary friends. Val slept peacefully while my mental capacity tortured my time. I progressed through good outcomes and bad ones. About ten days before the trial, I started to watch Shawn’s house. It was innocent to begin with. I tried to read or watch television and found my eyes drifting up and out the window. Not that anything changed often, but I just had to look. I looked when a bird flew by. I looked when a car passed. I looked when a cloud passed. I started to keep a notebook and mark each visitor. It seemed that if I could keep track on things, maybe another bad situation would be ended early.
One night, I was standing at the window of the darkened living room. Val was in bed, and again, sleep was just not coming around. I lost track of time by the point this happened and was drifting off, dropping my head every minute or so and jerking back awake. I almost gave up when a pair of headlights came around the driveway and pulled into Shawn’s place. Two men in suits exited the car and went to the door. They did not even have to knock.