The Falling Kind (15 page)

              “So why do you do it?” I asked sincerely. He sounded like he had at least some small amount of conviction about it, knowing it was wrong.

              “I can’t turn my back on the only person who never turned their back on me,” he said with such an honest voice. “I think about it all the time. It weighs on me, heavily. I’ve seen things I don’t want to see, and I’ve done things I don’t want to do. But he’s done more for me than anyone else in my life. I don’t know how to walk away from that.”

              His loyalty to Harvey astounded me. I wasn’t sure I could do it. But at the same time, I hadn’t lived his life. No one had ever given up on me. I couldn’t imagine the bond they shared over that.

              “I think it’s more my doing than Harvey,” he confessed. “Growing up, by the time I was a teenager, I saw the kind of money he brought in. I knew that was the only thing that would ever get me out of this town. I begged him incessantly to let me in on it. He refused for awhile. I swear he genuinely didn’t want me involved in any of it. He kept telling me he wanted something more for me. Imagine that.”

              I crossed my legs in front of me and stared at him. Moments like this with Cole, when he was completely honest about his life – they felt so intimate and unspoiled. His words were heartbreaking, and I wished he had such a different story. But knowing how he became this person he was, it mattered so much to me. Beyond that, knowing how hard he was working to change his situation, that was the most inspiring part. He genuinely sounded like he wanted something different.

              “By the time I was eighteen or nineteen though, Harvey finally let me help him out with a few things,” he continued. “It was nothing big, just a few errands for him. But people started making comments about me, about my size. Like I was a threat to them if they didn’t do what Harvey wanted. I think that was the turning point for him. He realized he could use me, even just for intimidation, and that would help him out and he could give me a cut of the money which benefited me. It just got deeper from there.”

              “Have you ever told him no? To anything he’s asked of you?” I wondered how far his loyalty and obligation went.

              “Only once,” he replied hesitantly. He shook his head like he didn’t want to continue, but he didn’t hold back. “A couple years back, my dad was released from jail. He was barely out a week before he was busted for a burglary. Harvey asked me to take the heat for him. My dad has a pretty extensive record, he’s been in and out of prison since before I was born. Harvey knew if he took the fall for it, they would lock him up for awhile, versus if it was me, I would probably only get a few months sentence. He told me that if my dad went away for long, it would impact the ‘business’ and he couldn’t afford that, since my dad had some ties to people he knew. Whatever that meant. So he wanted me to confess to the crime.”

              “You look up to him like a father, and he asked you to go to prison for someone else?” I said astounded. He asked him to do it for his deadbeat biological father no less. Most things he said about Harvey before seemed so much more admirable. Obviously his business deals were one thing, but they way he took Cole in, I couldn’t imagine that conversation. How could he ask that of him? 

              “I understood where he was coming from,” he said with a shrug. “On paper it made sense. And honestly, if it was for anybody else I would’ve strongly considered it, especially if it meant a lot to Harvey. But not for my father. I couldn’t do it.”

              I could hear the emotion in his voice. It was sad and angry at the same time. “So that’s what your dad has been in jail for the past couple of years?”

              “Yeah, he was sentenced for four.”

              “Have you talked to him since he’s been in jail?” I asked quietly.

              “Once, but we only exchanged a few words.” Cole fell quiet and I looked up at the treetops above us, blocking some of the stars. It felt like such a private spot, like we were in the middle of nowhere. It seemed like a perfect spot to share these kinds of stories. I appreciated his honestly probably more than he realized, but I definitely wanted him to lead the conversation. “I was in twice. Just briefly.”

              “You went in to see him?”

              “No,” he replied, growing quieter. “That’s when I was
in
jail. I saw him as an inmate.”

              I was shocked, and had no idea what to say. I was not expecting that admission. He’d mentioned having some run-ins with the law, but for some reason I assumed that was long ago, maybe even back when he was a teenager. No wonder he didn’t say much when we first met. Honestly that would’ve made me run.

              “Say something,” he said softly.

              “I… you… why?” I stammered, not sure what to ask.

              “I was picked up for dumb stuff,” he admitted. “Wrong place wrong time, that kind of thing. I was only held both times for a couple nights. Harvey paid my bonds and that was it. The cops weren’t after me, they just wanted information.”

              “How long ago was that?” I wondered. When he originally mentioned jail time, I hoped for some story about how that was years ago and he’d changed his ways since, but clearly it had to be in the last couple years.

              “One was about a year ago. I saw my father that time, but we didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure he even knew I was there. The other time was maybe four months ago?” he estimated.

              “Cole,” I said quietly, not sure what I even wanted to say. He reached out his arms to me and pulled me in. “You were in jail just four months ago?”

              “Now do you understand why I’ve been putting off this conversation?” he asked sincerely. “I know it’s bad. And inexcusable. I’m not making excuses for it either, I can say all day long that it’s Harvey, getting me mixed up in all this. But at the end of the day, I know I have a choice. But I just… I can’t get out.”

              “Do you even want to?” I pulled back and looked at his eyes, trying to gauge his emotion.

              “I always said I did. I wanted to, but maybe not bad enough. And then I saw you at the clinic, and I’m telling you, something changed for me. You had this innocence about you. You’re more compassionate without reason than anyone I’ve ever known. You fix things, right? Animals, people… And I don’t know, I just… I want to be fixed.”

              “I can’t fix myself, so I don’t know what to do with you,” I said lightheartedly.

              “You could at least tell me your prison stories to make me feel better about myself?” he replied sarcastically.

              “So what’s your plan?” I asked, not sure what to even do with all of this information.

              “Honestly, my plan all along, even before you, was to do one last big job for Harvey, for the money, and then head out,” he explained. “Down the coast. Far away from all this. But now, here with you, I can’t imagine going anywhere. I feel so conflicted… About everything. But I know I have to make a change.”

              I wasn’t sure how to respond. It was as if he was looking to me for an answer, but I couldn’t have been farther away in relating to his situation.

              “If you could have everything you want, would you leave this place?” he asked seriously.

              “I don’t even know what I want,” I replied honestly. “I have nothing keeping me here anymore. School’s over, and even Sam is leaving next month, which I’m in denial about. But…”

              “What do you mean you don’t know what you want? I thought you wanted to run your own animal rescue sanctuary?” he asked, cutting me off.

              “Well I mean sure, that’s just a dream. Like an ‘off in the distant future’ dream. I’d also like 300 pairs of shoes and a boat and a pasta maker. But you can’t just
want
things. That’s not enough. Even a spoiled city girl like me knows that. No one gets everything they want.”

              “How do you know?” he asked with genuine eyes. “What if it’s possible?”

              “Are you telling me
you
believe that?” I asked with an amused grin. This entire conversation felt backwards.
I
was supposed to be the delusional naïve one. 

              “I never did before,” he replied. “My whole life suggests that’s an impossibility. But for a girl like you to give me a chance… If that’s possible? Then yeah, everything else seems easier than that.”

              “What are you saying?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

              “I don’t know, I just…” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “I just want to know that I can be enough for you. I mean, I know you can’t answer that right now. But I want to know what the right thing is to do. I can’t be good enough for you if I stay here. I know that. But I won’t leave here without you.”

              On the surface those words seemed like a boyish ideal – the whole “I’ll never leave without you” thing. It was dramatic, and let’s face it, usually not true. But I thought back to last night, when he promised me he wasn’t going anywhere – and sure enough, his words were completely literal. He didn’t leave my steps. I believed him in that moment that if I was still in the picture, he wouldn’t make it to California like he’d always planned.

              “What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

              “I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “Like maybe I’m holding you back?”

              He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You think
you’re
holding me back?” He continued laughing. “All I want is to be a better person for you. That’s what I want. But honestly I don’t know how to do it. It all weighs on me, like I just need
one
more big job. That’s it. Then I would have enough.”

              “Have enough? What does that even mean? What’s enough?”

              He got up and jumped off the back of the tailgate, heading inside his cabin. He reemerged with a small metal box, climbing back into the truck. He opened the box and handed me a business card and a couple brochures.

              “What are these?” I asked, browsing through them. They looked like plots of land for sale.

              “That’s what I’m trying to do. That’s the land I want to buy in California. It’s ten acres.”

              I studied the pictures. It was a beautiful open lot surrounded by a dirt road and trees everywhere.
Avocado trees.
I smirked as I realized it. The business card was for the realtor selling the property.

              “This is where you’re going?” I asked, looking at his face. He looked so happy as he talked about it.

              “I hope so,” he sighed. “But I’m not there yet.” He held up a huge roll of money. “I still need like, forty grand or so.”

              “Cole, what are you doing with all that money,” I said with a panicked tone. It was way too much to keep in a metal box somewhere in his house. “Have you heard of those places called banks? They handle that kind of thing for you,” I said sarcastically.

              “This isn’t the full one-sixty,” he responded with a laugh.

              “One sixty?” I repeated, clearly confused.

              “Yeah, I have a hundred and sixty thousand dollars saved up so far,” he shrugged. “But I need at least two hundred thousand in cash to make the purchase before a bank will let me finance the rest.”

              “You have a hundred and sixty thousand dollars just lying around your house? You can’t keep that kind of money tucked under your bed,” I urged. “You really are a crazy person.”

              “It’s not all here,” he smirked. “I keep it hidden in multiple places.”

              “Cole, seriously, you need a bank!” I repeated, wondering how on earth he thought storing large amounts of money in a dingy cabin was a good idea.

              “I can’t hand it over to a bank, they need a paper trail for that kind of money,” he explained. “I would be flagged immediately. I told you, it’s not necessarily from an upstanding source. The last thing I need is people checking into what I do. It’s not like this comes with tax forms.”

              “So you’ve been in jail, you’ve been violently stabbed and beaten on numerous occasions, you work in a chop shop, you handle drug money,
and
you’re committing tax fraud?” I said audibly.

              “Of all those things you’re really getting hung up on the taxes?” he teased. “Come on, Syd, I told you, I’m not perfect. But I’m trying to change. I swear.”

              “I’m pretty sure you’re on some type of FBI Most Wanted List,” I replied, only half sarcastically. “Cole, all of that is
really
bad.” I was trying to process it all in my head, but I just couldn’t. He wasn’t necessarily justifying any of it, he also knew it was wrong. And I believed that maybe,
just maybe,
he wanted to change. But he seemed so far away from my life at the moment. He was more like one of the Dateline episodes my dad always watched. But yet here I was, looking at him with stupid googly eyes just because he had a perfect handsome face and giant biceps. He was like quicksand.