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7
Even though we’re exhausted from staying up late and waking up early this morning, Charlotte and Annalisa have a great time roasting Aiden when he pulls up in front of my house in his new, albeit temporary, ride. I can only giggle at his discomfort when Annalisa asks him where the soccer team is, causing Aiden to huff and shake his head, then get in the minivan and wait for them to run out of jokes, an annoyed expression on his face.
The jovial mood dies down quickly as Aiden turns onto the highway and we head south, toward where Luke is being held. Annalisa wraps her arms around herself and stares out the window at the passing trees, and even Charlotte doesn’t have any comforting words to offer her. I try to channel my inner Noah and think of a joke that will break the tension, but my mind comes up short. Instead, we settle into a quiet that’s punctuated only by the soft music playing on the radio.
Two hours into our journey, Aiden, looking in the rearview mirror at Annalisa and Charlotte, asks softly, “Do you think they’re sleeping?”
I twist in my seat. “Anna?” She doesn’t stir and neither does Charlotte. “Yeah, I think they’re sleeping.”
Aiden nods, and I take the silence as an invitation. “Do you think he’s innocent?” I ask.
“I guess anything is possible. Doesn’t look too good for him, though.”
I know Aiden’s glad that his stepfather’s dead, and as long as he’s not the one who killed him, he doesn’t especially care who did.
Eventually, we pass a sign for the jail, and I turn around to wake Annalisa and Charlotte up as we near it. When Aiden parks, we hop out to stretch. Annalisa looks paler than usual as she stares up at the imposing building.
“You ready for this?” I ask her.
Resolution settles over her face. “Let’s prove my brother’s innocence.”
We sign in and go through security checks, but eventually we have our visitor passes and are ready to go see Luke.
One of the guards tells us it’s two at a time only, and Annalisa grabs my hand without hesitating and pulls me forward. We follow the guard into a big room with a bunch of metal tables with metal chairs attached, armed guards at strategic positions around the room.
He points us to an empty table, and we sit. I shift in my seat, trying not to look too uncomfortable. Something about this place just gives me goose bumps. I feel like everyone’s looking at us, though I doubt anyone actually is.
I fidget with the visitor’s pass hanging from a lanyard around my neck. People are talking to their loved ones in soft voices all around us. At the table beside us, a woman who looks like the inmate’s mother sobs as she holds his hand across the table.
Annalisa’s leg is rapidly bouncing up and down as her foot taps the floor anxiously.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Peachy,” she replies.
I lift an eyebrow at her and she sighs.
“The last time I saw him, I stormed over a table in the middle of an ice-cream parlor to get away from him. I don’t know how he’ll feel about seeing me.” Yeah, that was when he contacted us and told us that he thought he’d killed Greg but didn’t remember doing it, and begged Annalisa’s forgiveness but she wasn’t having any of it. It feels like forever ago but it’s only been a couple of weeks.
“He put you on his visitation list. He wants to see you.”
She pouts, so I continue, “All he wants in this world is his sister back. He’s going to be so incredibly happy to see you. He’ll be even happier that you want to prove his innocence and get him out of here.”
Her leg is still bouncing.
“He doesn’t even believe his own innocence.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” I reassure her.
Her leg stops bouncing and her intense blue eyes are focused on the other side of the room. Luke’s behind the door opposite to the one we came in from, staring at us as the guards remove his handcuffs.
His expression is a mixture of hopefulness and disbelief, but there’s a weariness there as well. He looks mostly the same as the last time we saw him, but older, if that’s possible. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes giving him a haunted look.
The guard moves to the side of the room, and Luke stays standing on the other side of the table, as if unsure whether to embrace Annalisa or not. A guard makes that decision for him by yelling “No touching!”at another group two tables down from us, startling all three of us.
Annalisa gives nothing away, looking him over with a blank face. After a few awkward seconds, he sits down in front of us.
“You look like shit,” Annalisa says, breaking the tension.
“Yeah. Jail does that to you.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.
“You still look better than you did when you were using,” she deadpans.
I stay quiet, almost afraid to make a noise and draw attention to myself. Maybe Annalisa should’ve done this without me. I feel like I’m intruding on a private family matter.
“They didn’t tell me who my visitor was.” He changes the subject. “I hoped it was you.”
Annalisa shifts uncomfortably in her seat, as if the thought of talking about her feelings makes her sick.
“You are my brother,” she says finally.
Luke hesitates, treading carefully. “Yes. But I thought you wanted nothing to do with me?”
Annalisa’s hand clenches into a fist, and I can just imagine the feeling of her long, black nails digging into her palm.
“I may have been . . . overly mean.” She pauses, considering her words. “But I’m not apologizing. You fucked up when you walked away when mom died. You fucked up when you chose drugs over me. And you definitely fucked up by landing yourself here.”
Luke opens his mouth to say something but she beats him to it. “But you were trying. That day at the Tracks was the first time I saw you sober in a long time. You wanted to make it right between us.”
She looks away from him, the muscles in her jaw working as she clenches it. I know that face; she’s trying to stop herself from crying.
“And I think I do too,” she admits quietly.
Luke’s eyes light up at the admission, hopefulness settling over his expression as he takes in her words.
“Yes,” he says, almost too quickly. “I’ll do anything, Lise. I swear, I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you, even from in here. I’m sorry I’m such a fuckup. I’m sorry I’m in here instead of out there, doing what I can to be there for you. And I’m especially sorry that I let you down, again.” He boldly reaches across the table and grabs Annalisa’s clenched hand. “Even if I’m in here for life, I’ll never stop trying to be the brother you deserve.”
I bite my lip. Don’t you dare cry. Don’t you dare cry! This is not your moment to ruin.
