“You know you can’t tell a soul that, don’t you?”
“I know. After today, we move on. I can’t keep thinking about everything that’s happened.”
“Come on, I want to take you and Elsa somewhere.”
Somewhere is a house for sale. A white painted two-story house out in the suburbs, a neatly trimmed lawn, a white picket fence. It’s lovely.
“This is where my family moves to on the twenty-sixth of this month. My brothers can finally have their own room and go to a school where they don’t have to walk through metal detectors to get to class. I was planning on taking the job in a few weeks when they were settled but I saw it in your eyes last night that you couldn’t truly accept me if you thought I was still a Dog.”
“When I was in county, there was this woman called CeCe. She used to tell me people see everything in your eyes. Mine were red and puffy, full of fear, and she taught me how to look out for myself.”
“I’m glad she was there for you.”
“I never saw her again after I was sentenced. I’ve often wondered where she is but…”
“But…”
“What do you see in my eyes now?” I ask instead.
“I see strength and an amazing power that I underestimated. I see I’m going to have keep my bad boy ways buried deep because you’re not afraid to leave me behind. I see everything you were meant to be.”
“You see a lot,” I choke out.
“When it comes to you, I see it all.”
And I see the future clearer than ever and he’s a part of it.
“I start by going back to college and picking up where I left off. I set out to finish what I started.”
“Anything you want, babe. Anything.”
“And maybe one day we’ll have a house like this ourselves?”
“You’ve gotta give me a chance to make legit money, babe.”
“I have a trust fund, you know.”
“I might be going straight, but I’m not going to let you pay for everything. Our house, then it’s my money that pays for it.”
I get it and I smile.
“Besides, I would’ve thought you’d want something bigger.”
Looking out the window at the house, something tugs at me. “Nah, I want a home just like this.”
I picture us setting off for work in the morning, coffee in hand, dropping Elsa off at school along the way. I see sprinklers watering the lawn in the summer. I see Christmas decorations in the windows with snow covering the ground. I see a life here. Our lives.
“Everything is always changing.”
“Change can be good.”
Nodding, I look over my shoulder and Elsa is fast asleep. My life in one car. I came so close to losing it all, but I refuse to let it bring me down. I went through Hell to get here, and I’d do all again if it meant we arrived at this very moment.
Epilogue
Amelia
Ihang the last bauble on the Christmas tree, turn the lights on and step back. It certainly beats the miniature tree the C.O.’s had in their little office last year. It was more depressing than not having anything. I would’ve preferred to flow through the holiday with no decorations and trick myself into believing it wasn’t happening. It’s been a few weeks since I was released, and the memories are still vivid that I’ll be doing something and forget I’m at home. I sent Lori a holiday card. In all the years she’s been locked up, she’s not received anything from the outside. She has no one. I can picture the lines at the top of her nose deepening when her name is called on mail day. Then her smile when she opens it and sees I haven’t forgotten about her. It’s not that I miss her, but it’s obvious she’s not around twenty-four seven anymore. A part of me feels for her that she’s still there and I’m not. If there’s one thing I’ve learned is that even in the worst of situations, everyone is still human. Some don’t act like it and there’s no desire to help them in anyway, but monsters aren’t real, just humans. Lori’s past will haunt her for the rest of her life, but it’s her humanity that fuels the guilt each and every day. She can’t ever right her wrong, she believes her serving her time in prison for the rest of her life is what she has to do, and she will do it because of her guilt. I’m not going to spend my life allowing the bitterness of injustice to gnaw at me anymore. There’s nothing I can change about it and to live with happiness and peace in my heart, I have to let it all go. I doubt I’ll forget but I can move on.
