“The kind who spends her days with a one-eyed cat or out with friends. When it’s dark outside, you walk the centre of the sidewalk to avoid both the street and alleyways where those who’d harm you may hide. If you take a bus, you sit close to the driver. You clock into your job on time and probably even stay late without requesting overtime pay. You hand in all yourassignments on time and get high marks. You enjoy Saturday mornings in your favourite café and spend a mandated monthly dinner with your family. At night, you crawl into bed in pyjamas, play on your phone or watch a show, and then you fall asleep, sleep safe and sound—and away from the bad guys of the world. Any of that right?”
Her smile slowly fades, which tells me I’ve hit the mark. Maybe not on every fact, but some of it. Between her demeanour and everything gleaned from her letters, I’d say most of that’s the truth.
Why she joined the program is still a question mark, but it may be nothing more than a good girl playing rebel. But it’s okay. Doesn’t make me like her any less.
The virtuous ones can be corrupted.
She swallows, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You learned all of that from knowing me for half a second?”
“Mostly from your letters.” My fingers drum on the tabletop, and I risk a peek at the clock. Time is speeding by too quickly. Soon, I’ll be hauled back to my cell and left with only my memories of her sitting across from me.
“Well, you’re right about some of what you said. Honestly, I never thought about walking in the centre of the sidewalk at night, but that’s a smart move. I’ll do that next time.”
See, I won’t harm you. I’ll protect you.
“I keep one close friend, and do visit her often, yes, but I spend most of my time with Millie. When I’m not in class, that is. I clock in on time at work, but never stay late. Handing in my assignments on time only helps my marks, so yeah, I do. Didn’t pay all that tuition to fail. Spending every Saturday at a café sounds expensive, so definitely not, though there is a nice one around the corner from my place I’ll pop into occasionally. My family doesn’t live in town, so I only see them once every couple years, which means no monthly dinners. You prettymuch guessed my night routine exactly, but picture a cat beside me. Maybe,” she pauses, staring at a tattoo on my neck, “you shouldn’t judge a person. Half of my appearance is to purposely give that impression to people. It’s called defence.”
I know all too well about playing a role that isn’t real. You don’t make it out on the streets without some kind of fake persona to keep others away, so yes, Aspen made herself even more perfect.
“Sorry.” Words spoken so infrequently over the years, if ever. “If we’re judging by appearance, what’s your take on me?”
More of that pink fades away as her eyes take an almost comical dive towards the cuffs that prevent me from reaching any farther than the middle of the table.
“You give so little away in your letters, so it’s kinda hard to answer, but knowing what I do… You’re someone who was handed a shit situation. You’re never cruel in your letters, only inquisitive. You seem more interested in my life than talking about yours, which indicates shame. You assume no one wants to hear it, but I do. You keep your head down in here because you’re smart and you’re playing the game. You’re playingeverygame there is, actually. You’re resourceful—someone who’d be able to spin anything to come out on top. Any of that right?” She finishes with a cocky smirk and leans a bit closer.
For the first time in a while, I laugh. Loud enough to gain the attention of nearby tables and a sharp warning from Bennett, but I can’t help myself. Not only did this woman nail the truth, she did so without a sign of fear. Without caring about the consequences of what that ramble could eventually lead to.
This is why, as my laughter fades, I throw her a smirk—one that’s a bit wolfish, a bit cocky, but full of malice too. “That psych degree of yours is paying off. Good job.”
Something flares in her gaze with the compliment. A gentle fire I make note to stoke at the next chance.
For now, before I focus entirely on that, I add, “Hard to say all that when you have no idea what I did to get thrown in here.”
“You’re not a violent offender; you wouldn’t be allowed to be this close to me. You probably fucked up and got caught along the way, but it might have been an honest mistake.”
It was a mistake getting caught, yeah, but she’s right about not being a violent offender. At least, the law didn’t catch me on charges of violence. It doesn’t say my hands are bloodless, though. Stained, although fading after years in this place.
“So anyway,” she continues breezily, cocking her chin so her hair falls farther down her back, “that’s why I became a pen pal. I’m not scared of you, even if you want me to be.”
She’s right.
“Everyone needs a smile now and again, and I’ve come to provide.”
Oh, Aspen, if only you knew what your smiles have created. What my fixations make me capable of…
“Am I the only one you’re writing to?” I better fucking be. Her words are for me and me alone, and I’ll kill any other fucker.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
We end up in a stare off, which she easily crumbles with a huff. “Do you get visitors often?”
“Never.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I prefer it.”
