“I’m fine, Patrick.”
“I know, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I smile even though he can’t see me. “What’s going on?”
He exhales deeply before speaking.
“I’m at the Courthouse. With Aaron.”
I close my eyes and catch my breath.
“Six months is the minimum penalty. The judge has allowed him to convert jail time into community service. You know, as an example to the community, a devoted brother, a trusted friend…”
Silence.
“I thought you’d want to know,” he adds.
“Thanks for telling me,” I say, feeling guilty.
“You should be here with him,” he says harshly. “This isn’t right.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sighs in frustration.
“I have to go now. The others are all standing on pins and needles. We’ll all be at the pub tonight in case you wanted to—”
“I can’t.”
“Ciara…”
“I can’t do it. I can’t see him.”
“Give him a chance and give yourself a chance.”
“Bye Patrick.” I hang up before he can say anything else.
I sigh in relief that Aaron won’t be going to jail because of me. Last week I found out that Mark was sentenced to eighteen months. It turned out that I was not the first girl he’s followed and tried to hurt.
On the one hand, it makes me feel a little better, because it would suggest that it’s not my fault, that I didn’t inadvertently lead him on. On the other hand we know that perverts like this live with us and around us and that no one is ever really safe.
I’ve always thought of life as if it’s a bright pallet of colors, warm tones, intense and inviting. I never thought of black as a primary color, at least not in my little daydreams. Dreams that I no longer have.
I get up off the grass and head off to work a little lighter in the head than I was before. But I have a ten-ton boulder on my heart.
—
AARON
Having come back from the Courthouse, everyone is there waiting at the pub, ready to hug me, happy that this story is behind us now. It’s true, I’m going to have to do community service for six months but it’ll be a cakewalk in comparison with doing time in jail.
The point is, without her in my life, it matters very little to me where I am. The only thing that keeps me moving is these guys, my friends, my family who are celebrating my freedom with me.
I seriously would not have a reason to go on without them. And the thought that they all still put their faith and trust in me, that they need me here, helps keep me on my feet and not to get sucked into a vortex since she told me that she could not love me.
So I get right to work because I need to keep my mind busy, not to dwell on her and her dead eyes, her voice reduced to little more than a mumble and the fear of being two steps away from me.
It’s my own fault that I have ruined everything. I pushed love away when I had it in my hand and now I’ve lost it forever. Because she’s not coming back and every day that passes without hearing her laughter confirms that depressing fact.
