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Our time is almost up. Others in the room are hugging and saying farewells, and I know I should too, but I want to linger here like this for a little while longer. A dad coaching his son on how to talk to a girl, as if we’re normal.
Nothing about us is normal.
“Internship is going well. I’ve got people at the firm who I think might write me recommendations,” I say.
My dad is less interested in this stuff, but he pretends, nodding and patting the table. He’s never said it out loud, but I think he feels guilty, like he hijacked my life’s goals by fucking his up. And maybe he altered my direction, but I’m happy with it. I want to go to law school. I want to help guys like him who made shitty choices but have truly reformed. Our prison system is so fucked; our mission got lost in the politics.
The buzz of the security door draws our attention to the emptying room behind us. I got here late. Our time was short.
“Damn,” my dad grumbles. He turns back to face me, and our eyes meet briefly, reflections of one another at two different stages of life.
“I’ll get one of those forms next time,” I say.
My dad cackles as he stands.
“You do that,” he says.
I round the table and take his hand. He pulls me in for a short hug, nothing to draw suspicion, but long enough that I feel his heart pounding behind his tatted chest. My dad tried really hard to be a longshoreman. A Southie who practically raised himself, he got caught up with the wrong crowd in the neighborhood. He saw dollar signs and a way to win my mom over completely. She saw a guy cutting corners.
Guess that’s another trait I inherited from my old man.
I wait until my dad winks in my direction before ducking through the security door, then file out with the other day-pass visitors. The cold is settling in, the wind blowing my hair over my eyes on my way out to the main gates. I do manage to clear it enough to glance inside the security booth as I sign the clipboard chained to the counter and turn in my pass. Taunting me like a first grader slobbering out a solid raspberry, the green Clifford’s box sits open and eaten from on the guard’s desk. I make sure to give the box a long, hard stare until the guard takes notice and barks for me to move on out.
I breathe out a laugh then tighten my coat around my body.
Fucking asshole. I hope he got a bad batch and spends the rest of the day in the shitter.
Chapter3
Brooklyn
Iwonder if my roommate Lily realizes how much I look up to her. I mean, yeah, it’s hard not to hero-worship your real-life hero, and Lily saved my leg, probably my life. But that’s not what has me in awe of her.
She battled some pretty aggressive demons after the accident. She’s got a long way to go—we all do—but she’s come so far.
“You should really try swimming laps with me sometime. It’s the best exercise!” She twists to hold the fieldhouse door open for me and Morgan, our other roommate, to step through. Lily is a competitive swimmer, and she fought like hell to get back in the water after our trauma.
“You’re probably right, but I’m not really down for swimming with the team and letting you guys lap me while I pathetically dog paddle my way across the pool.” My description is not far from accurate. I have a decent stroke actually, but nothing compared to the rest of the girls who work out with Lily.
“You wouldn’t be in our lanes. You’d have your own space.” She’s persistent. It’s been the same lecture and plea for the last three weeks, trying to get me to swim to build up my leg strength.
“Gee, you mean I’d be able to hide in the transparent water behind that floating rope that separates me from you all by a mere seven feet? Hmmm, let me think.No, thank you!” I hug my gym bag to my chest and push with my back through the women’s locker room door as Morgan and Lily follow.
“Nobody would pay attention to you. I promise,” she continues.
My shoulders crawl up to my ears before I let them drop with a heavy sigh.
“Lily—”
I feel a palm on my back before Morgan steps in front of me.
“What she’s doing is working for her, Lil. Let her be.” Morgan is more forceful than me, and maybe that’s what we need right now. Still, I don’t want to hurt Lily’s feelings.
“You’re right.” Lily nods, but I see the flicker of guilt and hurt in her eyes.
“Maybe down the road,” I add. Morgan shoots me a glare over her shoulder then rolls her eyes. She knows I’m only trying to keep Lily happy. I’m always playing politics.
Lily dresses out quickly and jets through the door to the pool area, leaving Morgan and me alone in the locker room. I feel it coming before she speaks, but it doesn’t make the tight squeeze in my chest ease at all.
