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"But I also came here to say that I forgive you."
And at that, John Sterling's unyielding blue eyes lifted. At one point, I was sure that he had had a similar sparkle, a similar charisma as Brandon. Before years of violence, drugs, incarceration, and personal deterioration had taken their toll.
"You forgive me," he repeated, with an accent so thick it almost sounded fake.
Brandon nodded, and squeezed my hand again. I squeezed back. He wasn't in this alone.
"I can't forget," he said. "This isn't an invitation into our lives. You've done too much, damaged too much. But I can forgive you for the past. Life's too short to hold onto that anger, and I've got too much good in mine––" he glanced at me warmly––"to risk messing it up with things I can't let go."
Sterling looked between us like he was trying to decide something. He opened his mouth revealing stained molars with large black fillings. Then he closed it and nodded his head.
"Okay," he said.
Brandon frowned. "Okay?"
Sterling rolled his eyes. "What are you, a fuckin' parrot? Yeah, okay."
He reached back with one hand and gripped his neck, the action emphasizing biceps that still bulged, even after years in prison.
"I ain't stupid. I know what I did, and I'm payin' for it now, one way or another. I don't think just because you came in here, we're gonna have a relationship all of a sudden. Honest, I don't even know how we'd even start doin' somethin' like that. So I wasn't expectin' your forgiveness, but if you wanna give it..." Sterling trailed off with a shrug that somehow seemed anything but nonchalant. "Sure. I'll take it and welcome."
Before Brandon could answer, a short alarm bell rang out, and one of the guards announced that visiting hours were over.
"I'll try...um..." Brandon grasped again for the back of his jacket, clearly unsure of what to say.
I didn't even know what to say myself. "Nice to meet you" seemed completely inappropriate.
"Don't worry about it," said Sterling.
He reached out as if to touch Brandon, who flinched visibly. In response, the older man recoiled, and I wondered if maybe he really did understand just what he had done.
"See you around, kid," Sterling said as he stood to leave. He glanced back at me, all leering gone. "You too, Red. Go make me some cute grandbabies."
And then he shuffled out of the room in a line behind several other prisoners. We watched as he disappeared behind the thick gray doors. He didn't look back once.
~
Outside the prison, while Brandon and I waited for David to pull the car around, I stayed close, watching and completely unable to decipher what was on Brandon's face as he looked at the prison gates behind us.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow.
He glanced at me with a queer smile. "Yeah, I think so. I was just thinking..."
"About what?"
"About...how close I came to being here." Brandon chewed for a moment on his lower lip. "Slip of fate. That I met Ray and Susan. Stan. Miranda." He paused. "You."
"You would have never ended up in there," I said as we looked back at the nondescript building together.
"'Murder...just a shot away'," Brandon quoted.
"The Rolling Stones?" I cited, unbelieving. "Are you actually listening to something else besides Springsteen, Mr. Sterling?"
Brandon just grinned, a thousand-watt smile that lit up the otherwise cold gray day. He tossed a heavy arm over my shoulder and pulled me tight into his side so he could kiss the top of my head.
"Gotta start somewhere, Red," he said, and proceeded to hum––in a very off-key pitch––the refrain to "Beasts of Burden."
The song transported me back to a night almost a year ago now––a freezing, stormy night when the city had been covered with snow. When I'd fled a bar full of entitled, egotistical young men and found myself trapped in the home of a lonely, isolated, soulful tycoon. Never in my life could I have predicted where we'd have ended up.
"You know, the more I think about it, the more it doesn't matter," Brandon said with one last look at the prison before we got into the car. Then he turned back to me, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. "Any path I take leads to you, Red."
Oh, how he was right. Any direction we went did lead back to each other. There was nowhere else to go.
I pulled him down for a brief kiss, relishing the way his lips lingered on mine for a minute, warm against the chilly December air.
"One more stop," Brandon said. "And then we can go home."
~
