Lifers (28 page)

“Jordan, I’d like you to leave now,” said Mom, her voice struggling for control. “I need to talk to my daughter, and your curfew is far too close.”

His face twisted with anxiety, and I thought he might argue, which would have made things worse.

“It’s okay,” I said, quickly touching his arm. “I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He kissed me quickly on the cheek. “I love you,” he said, softly.

Mom’s eyes bulged, and I was pretty sure an aneurysm would be her next trick.

Jordan closed the door quietly behind him.

“Way to go, Mom,” I said, coldly. “I can’t believe you’d threaten him like that. He’s trying
so
hard.”

“Then he should have thought about that before he slept with my daughter!”

“Really? You want to play the parent card? I’m over 21, Mom. In fact I was 24 a few months back, if you remember. Yes, I drink alcohol. Yes, I’ve gambled in dens of iniquity. And yes, I’ve had sex with a really nice guy who just needs a break.”

“You silly, silly girl!” she shouted. “You’re the first female who’s shown him any interest—the first he’s seen in eight years, and you’ve been using him for your own gratification. I’m ashamed of you! I cannot believe you’d be so thoughtless and selfish. Now he thinks he’s in love with you!”

My face flushed with anger and guilt. In one way she was right: it had started out as gratification, but it had become much more than that.

“You’re so wrong!” I hissed. “We … we have something special. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m willing to find out.”

She fell back against the wall. “Oh no! You … you’re in love with him, too!”

“God, Mom! No! Yes! Maybe, I don’t know. But what if I was? Does it really matter that much? He was a kid! He made a mistake. Yes, it was a terrible, terrible mistake, but he’s paid for it now. He’s trying to move on with his life. He deserves a fresh start. Surely, you of all people understand that?”

I saw her touch the crucifix she wore around her neck and take a deep breath.

“Has he told you … about himself? Everything?”

“Of course!” I snapped.

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

“It bothers him, Mom. But what I want to know is why does it bother you so much? Isn’t forgiveness kind of in your job description?”

“For pity sake, Torrey!” she said, beginning more calmly, but her volume increasing rapidly. “He’s a criminal. Not only did he kill his own brother, but he nearly killed another prisoner in a knife fight. He’s violent! You can’t trust him. You’ll never know when he might turn on you. You can’t be with a man like that! No!”

I shook my head at her disbelievingly.

“Didn’t you teach me that charity begins at home? Maybe this is a little too close to home, Mom. Or should I call you ‘Reverend’?”

She sucked in a deep breath.

“Go to your room!”

I laughed out loud. “With pleasure. Night, Reverend.”

I strode up the stairs, anger and disdain trailing in my wake. So, she was ashamed of me. Well, I was damn well ashamed of her. Fucking hypocrite!

I sighed. Everything had been going so well.

Before Jordan had left, I’d planned on taking a shower. We’d gotten plenty sweaty over the course of the afternoon. But now, I reveled in the fact that his scent was all over my skin, on the sheets of my bed, filling my pillow with the smell of his soap and sweat and sex.

I picked up my phone and called him. He answered immediately.

“Torrey! Are you okay?”

I laughed thinly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What did she say? Did she … will she …” he took a deep breath. “Is she going to stop you from seeing me?”

“Hell, no! Jordan, I’m an adult. She doesn’t get to make that sort of decision. I mean, I’d understand it if you wanted to break it off because of your work…”

“No fuckin’ way!” he said, his voice loud and clear. “I’ll find somethin’ else. I’m not givin’ you up. No chance.”

“So we’re good,” I said, as tension seeped from my body.

He sighed softly. “Yeah, we’re good. God, I miss you already. I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms and see your beautiful smile when I wake up.”

I grinned and hugged myself, his words making my body tingle.

“Oh, you’re not missing much. I’m really not a morning person. I’m usually grumpy when I wake up.”

He tried to laugh, but it was forced and uneasy.

“I’m really sorry about what happened tonight, sweetheart. I didn’t want you and your momma arguin’, especially not because of me.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It would have happened sooner or later.”

He sighed. “I guess. Can I see you tomorrow? I could come by the coffee shop later like we discussed?”

“Yeah, that would be good. Sleep well, Jordan.”

“Night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

The phone felt lifeless in my hands. I threw it onto the bedside table and fell asleep with the memory of Jordan all around me.

Jordan 

I didn’t want to worry Torrey, but her momma’s threat was freaking me out. I
had
to have a job as a condition of my parole. Without work, I’d be on the fast train back to prison.

Hulk had said he could pass some business my way, but that was a couple of weeks’ work at most. I needed to show I had a steady income. I was close to losing it all.

I’d been pacing up and down, waiting for Torrey to call, desperate to hear from her after I’d left earlier in the evening. I was praying that her momma wouldn’t be able to talk her out of seeing me. I felt flayed by even the possibility of it.

The sheer relief when I heard her voice—I felt like I could breathe again. Her momma hadn’t persuaded her against me, and we’d arranged to meet tomorrow. Just hearing her say the words was immense.

It had been one helluva day. My emotions were still bouncing all over the place from everything that had happened.

Visiting Mikey’s grave had been a huge step for me. The weight I’d carried around for years seemed to have finally lifted. I could even believe that Torrey was right, and that I didn’t have to live under a rock for the rest of my life. I didn’t think I was free and clear either, and if I had to spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins, then I’d sure as shit do it, no questions asked. But I knew Mikey had loved me. That was one constant that hadn’t changed. As the river of my life flowed around me, my brother’s love was the one thing I could rely on. I could still remember what that felt like—my brother had my back, no matter what. We were a team. And teammates wouldn’t let the other one suffer if they could help it, right? I
owed
it to him to make something of my life. By shaking me hard enough, that’s what Torrey had made me see.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, taking a long, hard look at myself for the first time in years. Could I really be the man she saw? Could I have the future that was so tantalizingly close? Could I live for me
and
Mikey? Maybe Torrey was right. Maybe I owed it to him to try … to live a good life, a big life.

Yeah, I could try. But I needed to change. I needed to accept what I’d done and find a way to live with it. Something I hadn’t achieved in eight years. But now … somehow I needed to start again. I hoped it would be with Torrey, but if not … I wanted to live.

It was a goddamn revelation.

I dug through the bathroom cupboard until I found Mikey’s clippers. The charge had long since gone, but I plugged it into the wall socket until the tiny red light told me they were useable. Then I set the length to half an inch and watched my shaved hair fall into the sink. It looked a lot blonder than I’d realized. Huh, weird.

I was stunned when I saw the finished result. I looked like him. Like Mikey.

There was a shocked gasp behind me, and I turned around to see Momma staring at me in horror, her face white with anger.

“Don’t you dare!” she hissed. “Don’t you dare look like him!”

My heart shuddered in my chest.

“Momma, I … I didn’t know. I never realized…”

“You just had to find a way to make it hurt some more, didn’t you!” she shouted, shaking an accusing finger at me. “Why did you have to come back here? Why couldn’t you let us all rest in peace?”

I heard my father’s footsteps pounding up the stairs, and he caught her as she collapsed sobbing.

“Haven’t you done enough?” he shouted. “Why do you keep on hurtin’ her?”

My voice was calm and quiet when I replied.

“I hurt her by bein’ alive, Dad.”

He looked up and met my eyes. I think for the first time I saw some sort of acknowledgment in them. I didn’t know what, but it meant something.

“Clean up the bathroom,” was all he said, as he led her away.

I don’t think any of us slept that night. I lay on my bed, listening to the soft hum of voices from the TV downstairs. Occasionally, I heard a chair scrape across the floor or footsteps on the stairs. Along the hallway in her room, Momma cried for hours. You’d think the tears would have run out years ago. Maybe she had a lifetime supply.

My eyes were dry, burning with tiredness, but sleep was a long way away. Before dawn, I pulled on a pair of Mikey’s old running shorts that weren’t too big, and headed out. It helped sometimes. A bit. The cottonwoods loomed out of the darkness and the road was a paler patch of ground ahead, leading me onward. Memories flickered behind my eyelids: me and Mikey, Mikey and Momma, Torrey, school, home, Dad, the junkyard, prison, Torrey, the trial, the grave, Torrey, spinning off the road, the upside down car, Mikey’s body, blood, the hospital, Torrey, Mikey playing football, Mikey falling from the tree, getting drunk, getting stoned, making love, Torrey, Torrey, Torrey.

Daylight was filtering through the trees by the time I limped home—back to my parents’ home. My body was burning, but my mind was clearer.

I took my turn in the shower and dressed more tidily than usual. I rolled up the cut-offs and stuck them under my arm. I hoped I’d need them later, assuming I still had a job.

Instead of avoiding my parents, I headed into the kitchen to get some breakfast. As soon as Momma saw me, she left the room. Dad looked up at me, almost apologetic.

“Give her some time,” he said.

It was the most personal thing he’d said to me since I got back. I nodded at him, and we ate in silence. It wasn’t completely uncomfortable.

After I rinsed out my cereal dish, I reminded Dad that I’d be visiting my parole officer in town. It was irritating, but better than one of the random home searches. Sometimes they could be around for a couple of hours going through every drawer, cabinet, medicine chest and storage space.

“Do you want me to go with you for that?” he asked, out of the blue.

I looked at him in surprise. “Um, that’s okay, Dad. She’ll just want to talk about how it’s goin’. The usual.”

“And how is it goin’?”

I leaned against the sink and looked at him.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said, at last. “Will you tell me?”

He pointed to one of the kitchen chairs and I sat down, curious as to what had brought on his sudden interest, although it left me feeling a little on edge.

I waited for him to speak.

“You’ve been runnin’ again,” he began. “You used to do that … before.”

“Yep. It helps clear my head. It helps to be outside—away from … you know…”

“Good … that’s good.”

We stared at each other across the table.

“And workin’ for the Reverend? How’s that?”

“Well, it was okay…”

“But it’s not now?”

I sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dad. I’m not even sure I have a job anymore.”

His jaw tightened perceptibly. “What did you do?”

A pulse of anger jolted through me.

“Yeah, that’s about right, Dad. What did I do. It’s always what I did, isn’t it?”

“You must have done somethin’ for her to fire you!” he snapped back.

Rage burned my throat, but I forced myself to control it.

“She doesn’t like me seein’ her daughter.”

He blinked a couple of times. “That’s it?”

“Fuck, Dad! What? What did you think? Not as shockin’ as you thought, is it? I’m datin’ her daughter. Big fuckin’ news! But no, Reverend Williams is not happy about her only daughter bein’ with an ex-con. So last night she questioned whether or not she still wanted me to work for her. I don’t know. Maybe I’m screwed. Maybe I’m on my way back to prison.
I don’t fuckin’ know!
”

I stood up abruptly, knocking my chair over and needing to get out of the house. I tore open the front door and headed for my truck. I was fixing to get the fuck out and go see Torrey, when I remembered I had a meeting with Officer Carson.

I couldn’t help pounding the steering wheel in frustration.

I started the engine and forced myself to drive slowly. Getting in a wreck was not going to make this suck-ass day any better.

I was still wound up when I arrived at the Regional Parole Office on the edge of town. I’d just signed in when Carson came out to meet me.

She took one look at my tense expression, and the friendly smile dropped from her face.

“Calm down, Jordan,” she said, her voice firm with authority.