by S. L. Naeole
Oliver opened his mouth and blurted the name out quickly. “Grace. Her name is Grace Shelley. She’s a student at Heath High School just up the road, one of mine, actually.”
The name on the man’s lips did nothing to calm Robert, and instead seemed to fuel the rage that boiled within him. I could feel something inside of him turning thick and hot, as though hell itself was simmering just beneath his skin and threatened to boil over and consume everyone and everything in its rage filled path.
“Wh-what are you?” Oliver cried as Robert towered over him, his menacing presence blocking out the last of the sun’s rays.
“It doesn’t matter what I am. What matters is that you turn yourself into the police and make right the wrongs that you have done.”
“But I just did, didn’t I? I did that by confessing, you said to confess! I fixed it!” Oliver protested.
“No, you didn’t. Because of your cowardice, Grace turned in an innocent man, destroying his life and ruining her credibility. You nearly took her from me, nearly took her from her family, and the casualties keep piling up, Oliver. This is it, do-” Robert grabbed a hold of Oliver and dragged him back to the car. He stretched one hand towards the body in the vehicle and looked at Oliver once more “-or die. Make your decision.”
Oliver looked frightfully at his body in the car and at the murderous expression on Robert’s face. “What is she to you?”
“Who?”
“Grace. You said I nearly took her from you. What is she to you?” Oliver asked once more.
“She is my salvation. And she’s yours as well,” Robert replied, his voice nearly inaudible it was so sad. “Now…choose.”
Oliver closed his eyes and gave Robert the answer that he had been waiting for. Robert’s outstretched hand gently touched the body that hung limply in the car and once again, the blinding flash appeared, blocking out the scene before me.
As soon as the light dissipated, I was shocked to see that Robert was back at the school, his vision locked once more on a pair of students who were heading towards a rusty green car. He continued to watch as the car pulled out of the lot and then turned his attention back to the school.
A man appeared from out of the school. He appeared nervous, jittery as he headed towards his car, a dark brown station wagon that sat far apart from the other cars in the faculty parking lot. He looked around him, as though he were checking to see if anyone had followed him. When he was sure that no one had, he bent down and looked at the front end of his car. Robert focused his gaze and he could see the distinct dent in the front end that was littered with chips of paint that he knew came from my bicycle.
Robert jumped down from his perch, and only then could I see that he had been sitting atop one of the trees that fronted the school. He walked casually over to parking lot, his hands in his pockets, his jacket zipped up slightly.
The sound of his footsteps crunching against rocks and debris on the ground was the only sound as he made his way towards the man who still nervously flitted around his car. Robert’s gaze traveled down and he nodded grimly as he took in the brown shoes with black laces. The man was kneeling forward, his pants lifting up and exposing the white socks beneath the brown slacks.
“What are you doing there, sir?” Robert asked in a steely voice.
The man jumped up and grabbed his chest in surprise. “Oh goodness, you scared me there, Mr. Bellegarde. Robert—your name is Robert, isn’t it?”
Robert nodded calmly. “Yes, sir, it is.”
The man looked relieved as he took in Robert’s dark clothing and ruffled hair. “For a second there I thought you were someone else. Well, what can I help you with then, Robert?”
Robert pointed to the damage to the front end as he spoke. “That’s a fairly large dent there. Did that just happen? Did someone just run into you and leave without offering to help?”
The man coughed as he shook his head, the question obviously making him feel quite uneasy. “Um, no. No, nothing like that at all. No.”
Robert bent down to gently rub his fingers against the dented surface. “This looks pretty bad.”
He looked at the man standing next to the car and watched him as he began to run through several different possible explanations for the dent, none of them being anywhere near the truth. Robert motioned with his hand, a quick, undetectable flick really, and something suddenly crashed into the side of the car.
“What was that?” the man shouted as he peered around the hood. “Is…that a…bicycle?”
Robert walked over to twisted lump of metal and shrugged his shoulders. “It looks like something that used to be a bicycle, sir.”
The man heard the confirmation in Robert’s voice and he looked about ready to faint. Robert stood up quickly, already concerned that his plan was about to fail. Instead, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, blue cell phone.
He flipped it open and pressed three numbers before pressing the receiver against his ear. He looked at Robert and mouthed the words “I’m sorry” before he began to speak to the operator who answered the phone.
“Hi, yes, 911? My name is Oliver Frey and I have some important information regarding the hit-and-run accident that occurred near the Heath library back in September. What kind of information? Well, wow…I’ve never done this before so I don’t know how to…I’m…I’m the one that ran that young girl over. Yes. That’s right. It was my car. What color is it? Brown. Type? Station wagon. Yes, I’m at Heath High School, in the faculty parking lot.
“Am I alone? No. I have the young woman’s boyfriend with me right now. Yes, ma’am. I won’t be leaving. I’ve…I’ve run away from this far too long already.”
Robert felt a slight sense of relief at Mr. Frey’s words, but he couldn’t keep the anger that had begun to fester within him from growing at the sound of relief in Mr. Frey’s voice. He ground his teeth, the sound far too loud to be normal, but Robert didn’t care.
Mr. Frey looked at Robert’s expression and he handed the phone to him. “The operator would like to speak to you, to confirm that I haven’t run away.” He gave Robert his keys as well and then backed away from the car, his hand rubbing his chest as he looked at Robert with a pained expression. “There, now I can’t leave.”
Robert pocketed the keys and then placed the phone against his ear. “Hello.”
“Hello Robert.”
Robert lowered his voice so that Mr. Frey wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Mother, are the police on their way?”
“They’ll be there soon, son. This is a very good day for you, and for Grace, but Mr. Frey needs to complete his confession or else-”
Robert cut her off. “I know. Don’t worry. It’ll be completed.” He hung up the phone and then handed it back to Mr. Frey.
“Thank you, Robert,” he said as he took the phone and sheepishly stuck it back into his pocket. “I suppose you want to know why, right?”
Robert shook his head. “My guess is that you’re an alcoholic who tries to drown your troubles with Russians, Scots, and the French.”
Mr. Frey seemed shocked, but that shock soon faded as the reality of what he was doing, what he had done began to hit him. “I’m sorry, Robert. I should have done something other than run away, but I didn’t, and I’m ready to accept the consequences for that. I only wish that I could tell Grace, tell her that I’m sorry for what I did.”
Robert nodded brusquely at the apology and hid his clenched fists back in the pockets of his jacket. “You’ll get your chance.”
My homeroom teacher nodded with slow, sad movements. “I’ve been drinking for so long now, I use homeroom as my recovery time. It allows me just enough time to get over my usual hangover. I want you to know that I tried, Robert. I tried very hard after what happened to quit drinking, to give up this bottle of beast so that I’d never hurt another person ever again, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough.
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough now, but it looks like where I’ll be goin
g, it won’t matter. I’m done trying to run from this.”
Robert’s divine hearing told him that the police cars were on their way. Quickly, he asked the final question, the final phrase having not been said yet. “Do you have any remorse, Mr. Frey?”
The older man looked at Robert, looked at him with understanding eyes, and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Robert nodded and sighed with relief. “Good. It’ll be easier for you.”
Mr. Frey smiled. “Easier for me? You talk as if you know where I’m going, kid. I’m going to jail. They don’t have special cells for guys like me; just special punishments. It doesn’t matter; I’ve been avoiding this for too long, but at least I’ll finally be able to stop running. Please, tell Grace I’m sorry. Tell her family, too.”
Robert looked up as the sounds of sirens at full blast blared through the school’s front drive. Three police cruisers crawled to a stop in front of him and Mr. Frey and he stepped back as several uniformed officers walked up to them. They cried out orders that resulted in the teacher raising his hands above his head and bowing his head down.
The commotion brought out the teachers and students that hadn’t yet left the school building and they all gasped in shock as the mild-mannered, always comatose Mr. Frey was placed in handcuffs and then led to one of the awaiting police vehicles.
Several students approached Robert and the remaining police officers, all of them wanting to know what was going on. A handful of teachers were gathered near the teacher’s entrance, their heads shaking at the scene. Mr. Branke stood off to the side, a cigarette in his hand…unlit. The word soon spread around campus that the man who had hit Grace and then fled the scene had finally been apprehended, and that he had not only confessed, but that it had been Mr. Frey.
“Robert, is it true?”
“Hey Rob, I’ll bet you’re glad that the guy who hit Grace is going to jail!”
“Wow, Mr. Frey? Did you know about this, Robert?”
Robert looked at everyone surrounding him, their questions all hanging on their tongues, their eyes expectant and curious. “I’ve got to go tell Grace,” he said quickly, and the murmurs of agreement soon followed him. He did his best to maintain a human-like pace and climbed onto his motorcycle with the same forced passivity.
He took one look at the crowd that still gathered near the police cars and shook his head. Though none of them had dared to feel any sort of sympathy for Grace when she had laid injured in the hospital, or had sided with her when she had mistakenly implicated Mr. Branke for this very crime, they were all feeling quite glad for her now. He didn’t understand the human idiosyncrasies that allowed them to be so apathetic time and time again over the same thing, and then suddenly develop an interest as if it were pulled magically from thin air.
He sped off towards the house that held the only human who truly mattered in this world, the only one whose life he valued above his own. He quietly pulled up to the curb and stopped his bike in the spot that should have been occupied by the same rusty green car that he had seen leave the school.
He looked towards the door and he saw her through the window as she stood in the kitchen. He watched her eat, watched her laugh, watched her clean up and put away the dishes from her meal. He could hear her, she was humming. He recognized the tune and he felt an uncomfortable burning sensation in his throat as memory after memory of moments spent with her while that very tune was playing began to stack up in his mind, replacing everything else of importance.
His hand stretched out as he saw her pull her ponytail out of its constricting band. His fingers itched to play with her hair, something he had not done in what felt like far too long despite it only being days. When she yawned and placed her hand over her mouth to stifle it, he raised his hand to his own, the mimicked motion somehow comforting to him.
“You know, you could just walk in and ring the doorbell.”
He looked down to see Stacy standing there beside him, her hair a sweaty mess, her clothing…missing. “You’re in your underwear.”
She looked at her clothes and shook her head. “I’m not naked, you dork. This is a sports bra, and these are my work-out shorts. Trust me, I’m wearing far more clothes than you’d see at the pool. So, why are you standing out here anyway, looking all stalkerish and crap?”
Robert didn’t answer her and just kept staring through the window.
“Look, I know I’m being a real pain, but do you think that you could let me know how I can get in touch with Lark, or at least let me know when she’s coming back? This is kind of important.”
Robert turned his gaze to Stacy and replied, “I’m not about to bother my sister with your petty, human whims, Stacy.” Though the words sounded callous, I realized that he had not said them to be so. He waved at Stacy as she walked towards the house, but did not follow her despite his desperate need to do so, to be able to see and hear Grace’s voice, and to tell her that for now, at least, she was safe.
I opened my eyes as Robert pulled away from me, our contact broken, the vision gone. “Wow.”
Robert nodded. “Yes.”
“It was Mr. Frey,” I whispered in disbelief.
Robert’s eyes hardened into cold slate as he once again nodded his head. “He’s been watching you this whole time, sitting there while you worried about who it was that did this to you. If I wasn’t entrusted with his soul, I’d tear his heart out and send it straight to Hell with his head not too far behind.”
The dark anger in his voice should have frightened me—it would have frightened anyone normal, that’s for sure—but I felt a fluttering in my stomach because I knew that his reaction could only be so strong if he still cared for me.
“Of course I care, Grace. I love you. That doesn’t go away just because you or I are angry at each other,” he complained.
“I know,” I said softly. I had so much more to say to him, but this wasn’t the right time, not when something more pressing was demanding our undivided attention. “What will happen to him now? I mean, with…you know…you?”
“He has confessed to me, and for that, he has earned himself some extra time, but he needs your help now, Grace,” Robert said urgently.
I looked at him, confused. “Me? What can I do?”
Robert grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You can save him.”
FORGIVENESS IS DIVINE
“Me? How can I save him?” I asked as Robert pulled me towards the window. “And where are we going?”
“Grace, right now, what I need from you is to trust me. I’ll explain everything to you, but you have to trust me, okay?”
With the millions of things I had stored up inside of me to say to him, the countless words and phrases that were all clamoring for a chance to finally be said, the only thing that came to my mind was “always”.
Robert smiled at me and wrapped my arms around his neck. He scooped me up and then together we floated out of my window. He waited until we were several yards above my neighborhood before the dark, smoky mist began to appear at our feet, disguising our appearance in the night sky.
As we traveled past house after house, I kept feeling the need to ask him what exactly it was that I needed to do to save Mr. Frey, but I held my tongue. I didn’t care what it was. Right now, all I wanted was to pretend that nothing had gone wrong between Robert and I, that no harsh words had been said, and that we were simply two lovers spending precious time together.
That time will come.
Four words had never sounded so sweet. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime ago, I rested my head against Robert’s chest. The hollow sound that existed there provided me with a strange comfort, and I closed my eyes to it, allowing its silence to blanket me as we moved swiftly through the dark clouds.
As the lights below us grew brighter, it got harder and harder to ignore them. The noise as well became difficult to tune out and I knew that we were outside of Heath’s city limits. I just didn’t know where.
We’re in New
ark, just outside of the Police Station.
I braced myself as the ground drew closer, but Robert landed with perfect grace and skill. He had managed to bring us within feet of the building without being seen, but there wasn’t any time to stop and marvel at such a feat as Robert lowered my feet to the ground and removed my arms from around him. He clasped my hand in his and began to pull me towards the main entrance, his feet moving far too quickly for mine to keep up and I tripped several times before we made it through the doors.
It was only then that I realized I wasn’t wearing any shoes. I looked down at my feet and groaned at the damage my lack of speed had wrought.
“We can worry about your feet later. We have to help Mr. Frey,” Robert whispered into my ear before dragging me down a long hallway.
He pulled me through a door on the right and we soon found ourselves in a small room that had a tiny window covered by a grate. “Wait here,” he said in a stern voice that promised dire consequences if I were to disobey.
I wanted to ask him just where exactly I’d go with no shoes or clue as to where I was, but he had already left, closing the door behind him. In an attempt to make the time pass by more quickly, I began to inspect this room that Robert had brought me to, but it was as bare as my feet. Only a small, rectangular metal table and two cold, metal chairs decorated this room. The walls were gray, painted concrete with nothing adorning them to take away from the drab and dank atmosphere.
A florescent light hanging above my head was flickering in that annoying way that makes you certain that that’s where headaches are born. I closed my eyes, pressing against my lids with my fingers in an attempt to block out the bright pulses, letting up only when I heard footsteps approaching…and then passing by as they continued down the hall.
I don’t know how long I waited, but it was long enough for me to have fallen asleep on the cold surface of the table. I began to dream almost immediately, the cold and lonely room in the police station quickly morphing into the cold and lonely room in my own house.