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I did get to call Holly once I was seated on the plane but there was no answer. And now that it had taken off, I had to focus, get done what I had to do and get back, so it could be like nothing happened.
Jet lag kicked in hard already as the plane’s wheels touched down, though. The arrival announcement was bilingual, the flight attendant’s English only slightly accented, which was a trait common to our generation. Fighting though it all, which felt like walking through molasses, I went to face the inevitable.
The taxis were lined up as usual outside. Drivers were barking like carnies, vying for the weary travelers to become their customers. After I took my choice of vehicle, we headed out, my head still pounding to the rhythms of worry.
I couldn’t believe my brother had gotten himself into so much trouble. But the court of opinion had spoken. Opposing the legal institution with a lack of physical evidence was a tricky thing. Hearsay and blind accusations were all that was left to go on and opinions had been set before the first day in court.
They claimed he had been involved in an armed robbery just because he was the easiest punk kid the local mob could blame it on. But it hadn’t been him.
Another harmless rebel who had never hurt anybody, my brother had been pushed out down the river to make an example out of. In the old days, his head would be on a pike.
How civilized we now are, switching out the gallows for cages. A life-sentence in isolation was worse than death. Appeals were the only reprieve on the road to perdition.
Sitting in guilt and a suit, neither of which were his own, and adorned in new scars and a black eye, my brother waited. He was saintly patient, with no violence justified in his mind. The charges were a joke, to put a yoke around him.
Ten years were gone from his world, because they wouldn’t listen to me or to him back then. The prosecution had put up a distracting din. The judge was clearly on their side, turning down all reasonable requests to exclude testimony.
Charges had been added on like meat to a kebob, with twenty-one years always being the goal. No one expected the turn-over. A dastardly former witness, involved in a bit of everything, was struck down in an attack of conscience, bringing about a new trial, and my chance to finally tell the truth.
It was a privilege denied because of my youth at the time. Seventeen was deemed by the judge too young to take the stand, a cover for the fact that I knew the truth. Servants of the realm were patronizing me to oblivion, a favor I looked forward to returning, for my brother and everyone like us getting kicked down over the years.
“Now let me get this right, you say you were with your brother all that night?”
The prosecutor stood in her finery, coaxing herself to victory. Every move was predictable as a rookie chess player. What a shame for her, then, that I was a grand master.
“I say it, because it is true. We went to the fjords for some night fishing. There are pictures. You know what they say.”
“And what is that, Mr. Kristenssen?” she asked, her mask of civility slipping to the floor.
“Pictures or it didn’t happen.”
It appeared on the screen, big as life, thanks to my brother’s lawyer clicking a button. Dag Kristenssen, standing like a statue above the dark ocean, his fishing rod held like a staff beside him. His grease paint stylings were even brighter in the surrounding darkness. A date and time were neatly displayed in the lower right corner.
“Do you have pictures, Ms. Bjorgsdottier?” I asked the prosecutor.
“No further questions,” she quickly said.
And just like that, my brother was finally free.
Now that we could celebrate, I took the whole family out, so that Dag could enjoy his liberation. It was nice to see everyone, even if it was unexpected and I was anxious to get back to Holly.
“Are you going to stay a while?” our mom asked, as we devoured saucy ribs.
It was confession time once again, and on my day of reckoning as well.
“No, I can’t, I have to head back in the morning.
“Oh.”
I figured it was best to just rip it off and hope the pain didn’t last.
“I have a girlfriend.”
A chorus of cutlery struck porcelain plates, as gasps went around the room.
“Honey.”
“Is that a good idea, son?”
“Congratulations, bro.”
“I’m okay, Mom; yes, it is a good idea, Dad; thanks, Dag.”
“This is very sudden,” my dad said.
“For you and me both, but there it is. I love her.”
I hadn’t meant to confess that, but it had just come out.
“Does she love you?” my mom asked.
It was a fair question, with my history. Mom was just trying to save me from more mystery. It was far from simple, but I knew that Holly was the one for me, no matter what happened.
