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Until both Clarissa and Shauna, and this house, are but a distant memory.
28
SHAUNA
When the Uber pulls into my former neighborhood, it’s both surreal and heartbreaking. I wish I had told Emile sooner. I wish I had said something about my weird situation. Knowing him now, he would have understood. I know I am able to finally tell myself that risking my life by blowing my cover would have been worth it with Emile by my side. That man is all I’ve ever dreamed about.
My house, although rather clean and just the way I left it, seems dead and gone. It fills me with a longing I cannot shake, the feeling that whatever I had here once is never coming back. Everything has changed, and it can’t be unchanged.
It doesn’t help that I have no idea where Emile is. I keep looking for him out the window, but his truck isn’t even home.
I try to lounge back and watch some TV. It’s some show about two pairs of aging ladies yelling at each other over a fancy dinner. Normally, I would have laughed, but I’m too anxious right now. I still want to have an honest conversation with Emile, though the damage is probably done.
Being restless, I go outside and look across the porch to Emile’s house. I’m no longer protected by agents, so I’m vulnerable here, but I feel rather liberated. I can’t let fear dictate my life.
I let my body take over, and before I know it, I’m walking toward Emile’s house. If he isn’t here, I’ll leave a note or something. I can’t wait any longer. I enter the enclosed porch with the hanging ivy and knock on the large wooden door.
The door opens, revealing Marcel.
My heart races as I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to finally unburden myself.
"Hey, Marcel," I begin tentatively, my voice betraying my anxiety. He looks at me intently, offering me an inviting smile. "I need to talk to you if you’re willing. Just a minute of your time."
Marcel opens his eyes wide, giving me his full attention. "Of course, Clarissa… er, Shauna, is it? Look, I know things are… well, you know. But I’m still happy to talk to you. I just want you to know that." I smile, certain Emile must have mentioned more than a few things about the crash. Of course, he did. They’re best friends.
I pick at the side of the door frame. "I think I owe you some kind of explanation so here it goes. You remember that time Emile asked where and how I grew up? I told him I'd been traveling the world with my parents, living this grand altruistic adventure."
Marcel's eyebrows quirk in curiosity. "I do recall that. It sounded quite impressive. What's this about?"
I inhale shakily, the weight of my deception pressing heavily on me. "I made it up, Marcel. The truth is, I've been in witness protection, though I’m sure Emile’s said something already."
Marcel grins. "I might have heard a little about that. Honestly, it kind of sounds exciting."
I nod, my heart pounding. "And then some. It's not as glamorous as you’d think, though. I was involved in something... dangerous. There were some mobsters after me, and I had to go into hiding to stay safe."
Marcel's gaze remains fixed on me. “I get it. Of course, I do. But couldn’t you have just told him? I mean, he wasn’t going to rat you out to the mob.”
I sigh, my guilt and shame washing over me. "I thought it would be a way to protect Emile from whatever danger I was in. I don’t know. The whole thing was a mess, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. I shouldn’t have even gotten close to him at all.”
Marcel leans back, his fingers steepled in thought. "So you regret approaching him?"
My voice is barely above a whisper. "No. I regret ruining it. Meeting him was the best thing that ever happened to me, but I let the circumstances stomp all over that. Now he probably will never want to talk to me again, and I could care less that I blew my cover. I should have blown it sooner.”
Marcel's expression softens, and he reaches out to place a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We all make mistakes. What's important now is how you handle it. You need to talk to Emile and come clean about everything."
I swallow hard, my nerves still frayed. "But where is he now? I need to find him."
Marcel offers me a comforting smile. "He started the boat trip that he was always talking about. He’s going to be at a port in the Everglades next. If you hurry, you can catch him and make him listen to you. Hold on.”
He turns to open a small drawer in a little entry table nearby. Scribbling something down on a piece of paper, he then hands it to me. “This is the name of the port. And underneath is my number if you need to call me. Go find him.”
Relief washes over me, and I manage a small smile. "Thank you, Marcel. I'll talk to Emile and make things right. It's time to face the consequences of my actions."
Marcel gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “He’s a stubborn man, but just make him listen. I have a feeling it won’t be that hard in the end.”
* * *
As the sunbegins to set, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. I shield my eyes from the setting sun as I watch a familiar boat pulling up to the dock. I wait patiently for him to come closer. Emile’s eyes meet mine when he comes within reach, but he looks away uncomfortably and starts to dock, pulling rope.
