by B. B. Hamel
“Good. Very good.” He gives me one more look before walking off, heading back upstairs.
I stand in the kitchen, shaking like a leaf.
Luke’s a free man now, but I can’t see him. It’s like everything I did just doesn’t matter. I can work all I want, but in the end, Luke Harper is just trash and my family will never accept him.
Although I don’t even know if he wants to see me. He’s been out for two weeks and I haven’t heard from him. I can’t really be angry about that. I didn’t write to him, didn’t call, didn’t visit. I didn’t even tell him when his son was born. I’m guessing his uncle let him know, but I can’t be sure. His mom passed while he was away, and I didn’t even send my condolences.
Five years and not a word. It killed me every single day, but I did what I had to do. I got my associate’s degree. I got a job. I took care of my son. And I didn’t give up.
Now he’s free, and I can’t even go see him. I’ve been waiting for him all this time, the only person that believed in his innocence, and yet it feels like he’s still in jail.
“Mommy, look! Look! Castle!” Max climbs to his feet and kicks the Legos, sending them scattering all over.
I sigh. “Max, you shouldn’t do that,” I say. “Don’t make a mess.”
“I don’t make a mess,” Max says, climbing up onto the couch. “I don’t mess, I don’t mess, I don’t mess.”
I sigh and smile to myself. Just like his dad, headstrong and stubborn. I head out into the living room to be with my son, while on the television the man that I helped free gives me that same familiar look over and over and over again.
3
Luke
The first time I met Avery Seller, we were in gym class. She was one of the most popular girls in school back then, sort of the queen of Coldwyn because of her daddy. I hated her, although I didn’t know why.
I just knew that I was a Harper, and we were somehow not good enough for the Seller family.
We ended up on the same volleyball team anyway. I thought she was going to be a real pain in the ass, the kind of girl that never even tries to touch the ball, just dead weight. It didn’t really matter, since it was only gym class, but still. Girls like that always pissed me off, just lazy and prissy, not my type at all.
Instead, Avery was all over the court. She set me up for a few good spikes, dug a few good defensive shots, and at one point, she dove for a ball that was dropping right on the line.
She hit the gym floor pretty hard. I was the first person to get to her.
She looked up at me with those big, gorgeous blue eyes, the eyes I’d come to obsess over, dream about, spend so much time staring into that I’d forget anything else.
“You missed,” I say to her with a grin.
That’s the sort of line that would piss off most girls, but not Avery. She just grinned right back. “But I almost got it, though.”
“Damn close.” I reach out and help her up.
“Luke, right?” she asks.
I nod. “And you’re Avery.”
“Get up to the net. I’ll set you up again.”
I hesitate before nodding and getting into position.
We bumped into each other a few more times in the hallways, after school, and finally we ended up at the first big party of the year together. That night sealed it for us, we spent the whole time talking, and when I finally kissed her, it was like magic.
We were inseparable after that. Everyone wondered why Avery Seller would be with a guy like Luke Harper, a bad boy from a bad family, a kid that’s more into cars than anything else. Everyone assumed I was stupid, even though I was in good classes and got good grades. In a town like Coldwyn, that stuff doesn’t matter. People only see what they want to see, and nothing more.
Avery wasn’t like that. Maybe that’s what made me fall in love with her.
I let another week pass. I look at Avery’s profile, I think about adding her, but I never do. I get a bed, a couch, a TV, some pots and pans and shit from a thrift shop, and I set myself up in my apartment. I go to work at the garage, I work hard, and I come home at night.
That’s all I do for that first week. That, and I wake up drenched in sweat from the nightmares.
They’re always the same. I’m trapped in a box, screaming, shouting, kicking, but nobody comes. I wake up, panting and shaking every morning, the feeling of the dream lingering, an all-too-familiar sensation.
The routine feels good. At least until that Monday rolls around, and I finish up work early.
I toss my bag in my truck. Before I can head out, Uncle Nick appears. “Where you headed?” he asks. “Got a date?”
I don’t miss a beat. “Always do.”
He laughs a little. “Good work today. You got another Ford in the morning.”
“All right,” I say.
“Have a good night.”
“You too.” I start the engine of my truck and pull out.
As I drive, I can’t help but smile a little bit. My truck was impounded as evidence, and it sat on that county lot for five years, just waiting for me. Nice of them to keep it, and even nicer of them to give it back to me. I guess that’s the only good thing to come of all this, if you can call it good.
My truck was my alibi, although nobody believed me back then. It’s a 1969 Chevy C10, lovingly and painstakingly restored over the course of my high school career. I had just finished it a couple months before I was arrested, and that night I was two towns over for a car show.
At least, I was supposed to be. The show got rained out, and I decided to spend the night in a shitty little motor lodge instead of driving back to Coldwyn. In retrospect, I should have just driven the hour back home, but I was tired and annoyed that the event was rained out, plus I had a few drinks at a local bar. I figured, what’s the worst that could happen? I sleep in late, head home in the morning.
Bad fucking luck, I guess. Because that show got rained out, nobody could verify my alibi. The only person that could was the motor lodge attendant, but he refused to admit that he saw me. The security tape from that night went missing, so the police couldn’t confirm anything.
I was screwed. It was my word against two witnesses. Both guys said they saw my truck, my distinctive Chevy C10 truck, hit poor Lucinda Chavez’s Honda Civic going eighty. She was killed instantly. And apparently I just drove off, without a single speck of damage.
Well, the prosecution argued that my knowledge of cars allowed me to repair the damage, which is insanely ridiculous. You don’t just repair the damage to a truck that old in only a few days, but nobody believed me.
So I went to fucking jail.
I turn onto Lake Drive, the main road that cuts through the Lake Estates neighborhood. This is where I grew up, where my family home used to be. That house was in my father’s family for years and years, though when my mother passed, my uncle ended up selling it. Can’t blame him, who knew I’d be getting out not too long later. I think he feels guilty about that.
But our place was always a stain on the neighborhood. We weren’t rich like everyone else around us, we just happened to have a house along with them. We couldn’t afford to upgrade it over the years, or even to maintain it all that well. Dad was lazy and Mom was drunk, and I was a kid, so the place went to shit.
I didn’t know Avery lived nearby. We never ran in the same circles in school. We didn’t even take the same bus, since the neighborhood is split in half practically. We were in our own separate worlds for so long, even though we lived just a half mile away from each other.
I drive slowly past my old house. It looks different. The new people are improving it, putting new shutters and windows in, and I think a new roof. Honestly, it looks a lot better. Grass is actually short for once. I should be more nostalgic, but I realize that I don’t miss it.
I keep on driving. I turn around and head back, but instead of going toward my apartment, I take a detour. I turn into the center of the neighborhood, toward the richer houses.
I sit there, staring out the window. Memories assault me. Walking down the street with her, holding hands, making plans for the future. We had to hide our relationship from her father and her brother, which was frustrating, but we made it work. We spent a lot of time down by the creek that runs through here, right through her back yard actually. We’d sit by the water and hold hands, kiss for hours, joke and laugh.
Those were the good times. Back before I was thrown into a hole like a dog, forced to fight to survive. I’ve grown a lot since then. I’m a totally different man.
But my son… he’s inside that house. Right now, I could get out and walk in there and see him. My flesh and blood.
I know I can’t. That’d be suicide. The Seller family would hang me somehow. Probably find some new murder to pin on me. I’m desperate to see her, to see him, to learn his name, to hear his voice, hear his laugh. I want to know what nicknames she uses for him, what stories she reads, his favorite shows and movies.
Banging on my passenger side window yanks me from my thoughts. “Hey, asshole.”
I look over and freeze. I’d never forget that face, those dark eyes, that square jaw. Avery’s asshole older brother. He’s five years older now, but he’s still the same cocky bastard.
I roll down the window slowly. “Hey, Thomas.”
“The fuck you doing here?”
I sigh. He’s still a fucking dick the way the son of a rich man can be. He’s entitled, and because he thinks he owns the world, he sees everyone as his plaything. He’s not above torturing people, bullying them, drinking too much, getting in fights. And he gets away with it, all because of his father. I hated him when I was with Avery, and he hated me too. I don’t know who disliked me more, him or his father.
“I’m visiting home,” I say.
He spits on the ground. “I heard they let you out.”
“That’s what they do when you’re innocent.”
He stares at me a second. “Yeah, well. You don’t belong here.”
I look around. “Don’t see any signs.”
“Seriously, Luke. We don’t want you around here.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Says who?”
“Says me.” He stares back at me.
“Get off my truck, Thomas.”
“Get away from my house. And don’t come back around here, or you’ll find trouble.”
“Yeah? What are you gonna do, use your daddy’s money to hire someone to beat me up?”
He grins a wicked, pug-like grin. “I’d gladly do it myself for free.”
I can feel the tension and anger in the air. I shouldn’t be giving in to him like this. He wants me to lose it, to freak out and fight him, that way it’d be easy to keep me far away from Avery. I know it’s a mistake to get suckered in like this, but I can’t help myself.
I turn to open the door. I’m going to stomp this fucking rich cunt into the ground and piss on his bones. I feel all the anger I have built up inside of me, the resentment and the hate for a town that ripped me to pieces, threw me in prison, and left me to rot. I’m so angry for the way people look at me, think about me, all because of something I didn’t do.
As I climb out of the truck and look up toward the house, all that anger suddenly goes away.
She gives me a little half smile and a wave. It’s that smile, so familiar it hurts. It breaks me right then and there.
Avery, the girl I love more than anything. She looks like herself, which means she looks fucking beautiful. She let her hair grow long, which I like. It’s slightly red, a little auburn. She’s got her deep blue eyes, full breasts, perfect hips. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jean shorts, one arm across her chest, holding her opposite elbow.
“Go back inside,” Thomas says, ruining the moment. He comes around the front of my truck, still looking for a fight.
But I’m not interested. I step toward Avery. “Hey,” I say, the word so inadequate to express all my anger, resentment, and love.
“Took you long enough,” she says back, a smile creeping up onto her lips.
I take another step toward her, but something blindsides me, and I stumble into the street.
4
Avery
“Stop it!” I scream, running out into the road.
Thomas is on top of Luke after tackling him to the ground out of nowhere. “Stay the fuck away,” he yells, trying to punch Luke in the face, raining down blows.
“Stop!” I scream again, grabbing Thomas’s shoulder. He shrugs me off, but it’s enough to give Luke enough room to roll to the side and shrug Thomas off. Luke scrambles away as Thomas gets to his feet and the two men face off at each other.
Luke’s eyes are burning with a hate I’ve never seen before in my life. It actually scares me a little bit, and I think that if I don’t do something, he’s going to kill Thomas.
“Stop!” I yell again. “Enough, Thomas. You asshole, stop!”
I get between the two men. The hate in Luke’s eyes softens a little bit, but I can still feel the anger radiating off him.
“I warned that fucking scumbag,” Thomas shouts. “I told him to stay away.”
“Enough,” I say to him. “You attacked him like a psycho for no reason.” I walk up to Thomas and push him, hands on his chest. He steps back, eyes still on Luke. “Enough, Thomas, go inside.”
“Not until he leaves.”
“Thomas, go the fuck inside, or I’ll scream. You want that? Make the neighbors all come outside?”
He finally looks at me. I can see the indecision in his eyes and the violent desire to still go over Luke. Finally, he steps back toward the house again.
“This isn’t over,” he says to Luke before turning and stalking off. He goes inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
I turn back to Luke, heart hammering. “Are you okay?” I ask him.
He nods. “Fine,” he says.
His lip is bleeding a little bit. I walk up to him and go to wipe it off, but he flinches away. That breaks my heart more than anything else. He’s never flinched away from my touch before.
But I guess he’s not the same guy that left me. I could see the differences on TV, but in person, it’s starker. He’s more muscular, leaner, tougher. His nose is slightly crooked now that I’m close enough to look hard, like it was broken and improperly set. His eyes are harder than I thought they’d be, and there’s no smile on his face, like he used to have every time I saw him.
I drop my hand. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know he’d do that.”
“I’m the sorry one.” He spits blood onto the ground. “I shouldn’t have come.”
I bite my lip and watch as he walks back to his truck. It’s the same truck he obsessed about five years ago, the truck that was his alibi. The truck that we used to spend so much time in together, where he’d fuck me deep and slow, whisper how much he wanted me in my ear, make me come like I’ve never come before or since. Memories spill out of me when I watch him walking toward that truck.
“Wait,” I say. “Hold on.”
He pauses at the driver’s side door. “Yeah?”
“Do you want to, uh, go for a walk?”
He watches me for a second and I think he’s going to leave. Instead, he shrugs. “Sure, whatever.”
“Come on.”
We start down the sidewalk together, and the weight of everything that’s happened is heavy between us. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and I hate this, I hate how weird it is. Because even though he’s different in a lot of ways, he’s still Luke. I’ve been picturing this moment for so long, five long years, picturing how things would be if he came back home.
It’s nothing like I imagined.
“How are things?” he finally asks, breaking the icy silence.
“Okay, I guess,” I say.
“Good.” He looks away, at the houses. “Feels we
ird, being back here.”
“Yeah?” I smile a little. “We used to do this a lot, remember?”
“I remember,” he says softly.
We cut down a little dirt path between two houses, through a little group of trees, and come up to the creek. We walked this path a hundred times together back then. It feels so familiar, though the icy discomfort is still there. We’re moving on autopilot, and I see a little smile crack along his lips when we step up to the bank of the creek.
“Not much changes,” he says, picking up a rock. “Thought maybe this would be gone.”
“Why?” I ask him, smiling.
He shrugs, tossing the rock into the water. “Global warming or whatever.” He grins at me and I laugh at his joke.
“A lot hasn’t changed since you left.”
“Yeah, I know.” He looks back at the water. “Like you.”
My heart starts beating faster. “I’ve changed.”
“Yeah, maybe, but not really.” He looks back at me with those eyes, and it strikes me all over again how different he seems, and yet the same. I must look that exact way to him.
“You haven’t changed either,” I say.
“Yes, I have. Got a little bigger. Seen some things.” He shrugs. “That’s what happens.”
I pause, not sure how to answer. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Your brother isn’t.”
I smile. “Yeah, well, he never liked you.”
“Dad too, I bet he’s pissed.”
“Told me not to see you,” I say. We start walking again along the path that snakes around the creek. “Threatened to kick me out.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Thomas is gonna tell him, but whatever. I’ll deal with it.”
“I don’t want to cause you trouble,” he says. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?” I ask him softly.
He doesn’t answer right away. I can see him working something out in his mind. Finally, he just shrugs a little. “Not sure, honestly. I told myself I wouldn’t…” He trails off.