by Devin Sawyer
“I have a court date next week. I’m going to plead guilty.” At this her face contorts and I can see how badly she wants to interrupt me, but I keep going, raising my voice just a little to show her I really need to get this out before she says anything. “I spoke with a public defender this morning and he thinks I could possibly get off on probation or do a short stay. A little something I learned about cocaine from him is that if we had powder cocaine rather than crack, I probably wouldn’t even be looking at a court date, maybe ticketed, some community service. Apparently, there’s an 18:1 disparity. So basically, those found with one gram of crack are charged at the same rate as those who are busted with eighteen grams of powder cocaine. It sucks really because no one in Glennville could afford cocaine so it pretty much targets your lower class to get heavier sentences.”
“That’s bullshit,” she cries out in an angry tone I hadn’t heard her take before. “You can’t punish someone for the exact same drug just because it’s in a different form. There has to be more laws against this.”
Her naïve nature is meant to be sweet and caring, striving for advocacy, but she doesn’t know what it’s like to live in a town where literally everyone is struggling. Some people never live with power on in their homes, don’t have running water, have holes in the exterior of their homes making summers exhausting here in Texas and winters not all that enjoyable either. I continue.
“My attorney is optimistic though because it used to be worse, it used to be 100:1 disparity and my attorney is hopeful they will go light on me since they just changed that law last year, maybe cut us a break.”
“No, Torren you need to be fighting this. We didn’t know about those drugs. We need to call Jeff right now.”
“I did. I did know. Look, Arianne, I did it. I knew they were there. Before we picked you up Jeff and I ran a deal in Glennville.”
She begins shaking her head and pulls her hands from mine. Something breaks inside of me. Like a water line that simply busts and pours out its contents, never-ending, a constant supply of water. This is no slow leak, but I continue, needing to get the words out. My heart rate is climbing and quickening. I wipe the sweat from my palms on my jeans. I feel the pressure of tears behind my eyes and they match the ones in Ari’s. I clear my throat and push on, willing the tears to stay behind my eyelids. I choke out the next part through a broken voice “I’m sorry, SO sorry. It went too far. And I promise to never let it get that way again.”
I soften, wiping at my eyes. I look to Ari, but she doesn’t look anything like the strong independent spunky girl I am used to.
“There won’t be a next time. You lied to me.” It’s a whisper that leaves her mouth.
“I…I didn’t mean to. It was more of an omission. I wasn’t proud of it and I was planning to talk to Jeff about stopping. I was just trying to help everyone I care about. I can’t let Jeff go down for this.”
“I was driven home in a cop car, Torren. What the fuck?” Her voice is rising and breaking. She’s been upset before but never at me. This is new territory, as she continues.
“I NEVER, not even once, thought you could actually be involved. I was sure that police officer placed them in the car, that y’all’s dislike for each other went far enough that he could be crooked and framing you, and now you tell me you did it? This is so fucked up. You could have ruined my life, Torren. You’re already ruining yours. You could do time for this. That will never come off your record. You have made one hell of a stereotype out of yourself. A true ‘boy from the wrong side of the tracks’ story.” She sighs. “You could have been someone.”
“I know, okay? I freaking know. Why don’t we talk about the other stereotype here? Privileged white girl thinks she can save the bad boy. Please, Ace, is that what you thought this was?” I huff out a frustrated breath and purse my lips to keep it all in. Ari doesn’t deserve to be yelled at. She’s done nothing wrong, but I want to fight for her and for us so badly that I feel my temper rising.
She blinks back tears that roll down her reddened cheeks. I reach to brush them from her face, to dry her eyes, and ease our riddled pain, but she pulls back and away from me and my anger flares alongside my fear. She’s pulling away. She’s running, she’s not fighting. I choose instantly to make a last ditch effort to show her my intentions are rooted in doing the right thing.
“I wanted you so bad, since the beginning even, and I don’t know when I realized it, Ace. I just want to be with you. I want to go and do whatever punishment they give me as quickly as possible and come back to you. I’m crazy about you. The worst part of last night was having to leave your side. I don’t have any previous offenses and I want to fight as hard as possible to not serve any time, but I know it’s a definite possibility. I want to be up front with you and I want us to get through all of it …together.”
“If you want to be up front, you’ll turn Jeff in. He’s the partial owner of the drugs and you’ll get a lighter sentence.”
“No—I’m not a rat. He’s not the one that got caught with them—I am. He’s been through a hell of a lot more in his lifetime than I have, and he doesn’t deserve this when I can save him from it.”
“I’m not going to stand idly by while you destroy your life, and I definitely won’t be waiting around while you sit in prison. I’m a senior this year, Torren. It’s my final year of high school. I can get out of this God forsaken town and go do anything I want from here, and I don’t even know if you are going to be a part of my life a week from now. We have no future at this point. We have a crock of shit.”
Her truth sears me. I won’t ask her to wait. I definitely won’t ask her to put college on hold. I could never do that to her. I guess I was hoping she would want me to be a part of it. Realization breaks through me. I pull my bottom lip into my teeth fighting back the emotion that feels as if it has lodged itself into my throat and made itself comfortable.
Tears threaten, but I don’t want them here.
“I’m sorry.” I try to express my sincerity with every fiber of my being, but the voice that escapes me only sounds weak and tired, it cracks with emotion as I speak. I don’t know why, but this only seems to piss Ari off further. I watch her face as it contorts from anger to one of hatred.
“I’m sorry you’re not smarter,” she yells and even though the neighbors are spaced out, I find myself looking around to assure no one is watching the scene that’s about to be made.
“I’m sorry that you’re clearly not right in the head,” she presses.
“I’m sorry that you’re a shitty boyfriend.” I was her boyfriend, the certainty she says it in shocks me. That would have made her my first actual girlfriend….
“And mostly…” She stops to take a breath and I can see the hatred filling her. Anger boiling over her and being masked with tears. “I’m sorry that we even met.”
I nod my head. Needing to get away, needing to escape, but not being strong enough to walk away from her.” She rockets toward the front door of her home. A home I never even made it inside of, a home that she lives with her parents in. Parents that I never got to meet, although I’m sure I’d have only been a disappointment to them too. I made her leave first.
Nothing feels right about this. I wasn’t expecting my world to fall apart in less than twenty-four hours. I walk down the road toward the highway and call Gavin to have him pick me up as I walk in the direction of home.
~
My trial comes five weeks later, on a Tuesday. I know Ari has returned to school, but I haven’t seen her since the day outside her house. I hope that the last five weeks have been easier on her than they have for me. I’ve wanted to pick up the phone to call her a million times, but I know in the back of my head it’s got to be her to make the first move. I need her forgiveness and not the other way around.
My dad sits next to me, dressed in the only suit he owns, and it’s a few years too old and a few pounds too small. We review the case with my lawyer one final time before going in to see the
judge. My hands begin to perspire, and I wipe them on my slacks not knowing what else to do with them. I wish, more than anything, I was spending the day learning ridiculous astronomy facts, or even working at the garage. My only relief is that after today it could all be over. I’m praying for a fine, and some community service, a probationary period that ends before Ari leaves town, which is unlikely as it’s a mere nine months before that happens. I stand and button my sports coat the way the lawyer had to show me to and we head for the courthouse with Dad driving me.
I stare out the window on the drive and try to pick out things about Layton I hadn’t noticed before. Initially, when we moved here, I hadn’t wanted anything to do with the town and its snobby attitude. The courthouse lays on the edge of town, I can only assume that it’s so the trash of Glennville doesn’t have to be dragged into town for their court decisions. The people of Layton wouldn’t take too kindly to that. I think about how Layton has been trying to redistrict the county for years. It’s a waste of their time really because most of the blue-collar worker roles like the electric coop, or city water, are Glennville residents. Pops pulls my attention away from this thought when I hear him clear his throat.
“I just wanted to tell you, that nothing about this makes me embarrassed of you.” His voice is thick with warmth and I’m grateful for the comfort he’s attempting to share with me.
“You made a bad decision, Torren, but you’re not a bad kid. You work hard, you’re smart, and you’re loyal to a fucking fault.” I stare at my hands in my lap, feeling like a failure even though I know he’s trying to express the exact opposite to me.
“Don’t think I don’t know about the role Jeff played in those drugs. I think it’s honorable that you aren’t a nark, but someday, son, you’re going to have to learn to set boundaries. Learn not to encourage bad decisions just because you want to support the person.”
“He deserves it,” I say. “He’s always been there for me. Always, even when Mom left and I didn’t understand what was happening, he seemed to get that I just needed someone to fill that for me, and because of him I never had to miss her. I never had to spend my youth searching out my mother, because I had a hell of a good father and just as good of a best friend. I shouldn’t have agreed to the drugs. I should have talked Jeff out of it too. I know that, I even knew it then. I just wanted him to see I would offer the same loyalty he once showed me and I never thought it would lead me here. That was stupid. I just thought maybe if he could control all the debt he was in he would come out of this bitter depression he’s been in since his dad passed.”
“I know ya did, but some people can’t be healed by others. Let’s get through today.”
“Promise me you’ll talk to Gavin about letting him stay on at the garage on the weeks he is home. He needs it.”
“Yeah.” Dad quiets. “I’ll talk to him. What about the girl?” Dad inquires. “Arianne?”
“Yeah, Ari. She hasn’t been around much if you’ve noticed.”
“Where does your loyalty lie to her? Why didn’t she matter as much as Jeff?”
“She does, she matters.” I feel defensive at his statement. “I just thought this might be easier for both of us for now… and I haven’t seen much effort on her part, so I guess my assumption was right.”
Dad mumbles something under his breath and I think it was something along the lines of “Kids are so damn stupid,” but I can’t quite make it out. I don’t respond with anything.
“She cares, Torren. I fucking watched the two of you make love-struck eyes at each other all evening at the dinner table. Plus, I saw y’all together weeks before that down at the coffee shop in town when I went to pick up dinner after work one evening. I could tell even then.” His revelation shocks me. He never mentioned anything to me. He probably assumed it was one of the floozies I typically hang out with. Despite Ari’s money, she’s never put off the illusion of the rich and famous in her ordinary jeans and graphic tees.
“Don’t leave a woman without explanation like that. You’re in a real predicament and she deserves your respect for the way she feels. She was much more involved in that night than you even realize, and I believe you owe her some respect for that.” I know he’s right. I hate that he’s right, because I still know I’ll wait for it to be her that reaches out. The truck eases into a parking spot, and I realize we’ve arrived outside the courthouse.
“Let’s go do this together,” he states, and I nod my head with as much confidence and appreciation as I can muster.
We walk the steps of the courthouse in silence and fear begins to take over my body. The security guards at the front scan us as we go through metal detectors and empty out our pockets. We meet my lawyer in the main lobby, he’s already waiting for our arrival. We head to the courtroom we are assigned, letting my lawyer lead the way and he seats us up front. The courtroom is nearly empty. Again, my lawyer preps me for the plan to take the stand, teaching and reviewing techniques. Just a few years prior this same charge would have been a mandatory five-year sentence and I’m shocked that a mere possession charge could uproot someone’s life for five years. That our justice system found that to be just. That our taxpayers would prefer to jail than rehabilitate. I’m sure society wasn’t expecting cases like mine to come through this court. I could still receive up to a five year sentence and I have no drug addiction to fight. I have many other addictions, loyalty to my friends and family, even money, it’s hard being raised in a family that doesn’t have much. But lately, my only addiction seems to be rooted in a petite, blonde haired, blue-eyed girl that looks hard and acts tough but is a big marshmallow inside.
I feel a pat on my shoulder behind me and I turn to meet Gavin’s eyes. They border on tears and that’s enough to break me. I want to take his pain because he doesn’t deserve to feel it because of my actions. I give him a quick hug over the divider that separates the audience from the court proceedings. The room has filled with a few people I recognize, Jeff being one of them. Aunt Haley is here, Dad’s sister, who drove in from Ft. Worth. I spin back around in my seat when I hear the door from the judge’s quarters open and we all rise to greet her.
My case is reviewed, and the county DA prosecutes my case, making points about the continued drug problems in this area, and ending with how it starts with convicting those who are using. I think he sounds like an idiot but maybe it’s because I’m not even using drugs. They will stop very little by putting me in jail, but unless I sell out Jeff, I’ve got no way to prove that. My arraignment was two weeks ago, and my lawyer encouraged me to plead not guilty. I am partially guilty though. I was, in legal terms, in possession of the drugs and I had even been with Jeff earlier in the evening when he sold them. I’m lucky that my charges were reduced to a mere possession, their earlier intent was to try me for distribution, or intent to sell, but since I wasn’t in my own vehicle, they had a much harder time finding the evidence to prosecute me with any of those claims.
My lawyer makes an argument that this is my first run-in with the law and for the most part, prior to this, I’ve been an upstanding citizen, minus a few fights on my records from when I was younger. He argues that I work a full-time job and help support my father financially in our home. I feel as if the case is going well. My lawyer is representing my stance appropriately and it seems madness to incarcerate me over these semantics. When he calls me to the stand, I only further his agenda and continue to talk about my role in the Glennville state championship. We discuss desire for trade schools in my future, although this was my lawyer’s idea and not mine. And lastly, after we have built my character, we discuss the facts. I was found driving a vehicle that was not my own and was described by an earlier drug bust as the distributing vehicle. I’m also questioned by the prosecutor and I do my best to deflect guilt the way I reviewed with my lawyer. They paint a picture of guilt by pure association. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. I’ve had that drilled into my head more times than I can count because that’s what you get taug
ht at schools and in towns like Glennville. I’m shocked there wasn’t a class on court proceedings. I was in possession of the drugs that night and I even claimed they were mine to the officer in order to prevent any questioning of Ari. I know how possession laws work, and unless someone takes ownership, anyone can be found in possession. I certainly wasn’t willing to risk an arrest on her record. I’m cornered by my argument, but I continue to deflect their questions. When the court session ends the judge even asks me a few questions, mostly about that night but sometimes she takes me off guard and asks about my friends and my job.
It’s been over an hour since the preceding started, which is a bit long for a standard drug charge. Typically, these things are wrapped up in twenty minutes, but the prosecutor and the judge finally seem content with the conclusion and I am allowed to return to my seat. I walk out of the small gated stand when the courtroom doors open on my walk back and I see a blonde angel enter the courtroom. I stop in my tracks, trying to breathe, unable to walk any further and finally, she sets the door quietly back at a resting close. I am paused mid courtroom and while it’s probably only been a second, it feels like minutes have passed since she entered, as I wait to see her face revealed. She turns, and I search out her wild eyes – I seek out the madness that awaits us, until she finally meets my gaze and our connection is immediate, as if the last five weeks haven’t existed. Our eyes speak things we can’t verbally say to one another. I try to convey everything to her. A voice clears, I shift my gaze to my lawyer, and I remember I have perched like a statue in the middle of the room. I move my legs again but take my gaze back to hers and the moment is broken. She is moving toward a bench in the back to take her seat. I take my seat next to my attorney, and in the back of my head I recognize that a voice is speaking, the judge’s, but I’m not able to focus on it. It sounds distant and far off, but nothing can pull my mind from her. She’s here. She came for me. She should be in school right now, but instead she’s sitting in this courtroom because of me. I hate myself all over again for the situation we are in. I begin to pray. I bargain with God. I promise him an eternity of loyalty and following if I could just escape these charges and hold her again. To get the chance to tell her everything, to get the chance to tell her how sorry I really am, how I never want to hurt her, but mostly how I love her. Fear washes over me with the things I never said to her and I begin to tick off a mental list in my mind. It is taking all my willpower not to turn around and find her eyes again, to feel that connection that fires every time she looks at me.