by Cassie Beebe
THE FEAR WAS STRONG. It overpowered every other sensation raging inside him as he stared at the clock on the wall, watching each hand tick faster and faster toward his fate. He wished for the clock to break, as if that would stop time itself and free him from what was about to come, but his wishes went unheard.
“Jacob, you can head on back, now,” the redheaded receptionist said, holding open the door for him.
He didn’t thank her for the gesture. He was too preoccupied worrying about the livid man behind the door at the end of the hallway. He didn’t even have time to take a centering breath before Officer Millburn whipped his door open, meeting Jacob’s gaze with his icy stare.
He stepped aside wordlessly, and Jacob forced his feet forward, taking a seat at the desk.
The officer closed the door behind him with a gruff sigh and meandered back to his side of the desk. His chair let out a shrieking protest under his weight when he fell into it, and he turned his cold eyes on Jacob again.
Jacob had the whole morning to prepare for this. He even discussed his anxiety about the meeting during his session with Doctor Summers, once they were finished going over the travesty that was Friday Night.
His discussion with the doctor was unproductive. He relayed the whole event, from playing “I Never,” to everything he spilled to Jenna on their phone call later that night. He told himself time and again that morning that Doctor Summers wasn’t a magician, and he shouldn’t go into their conversation expecting her to provide some kind of magic solution that would turn back time and restore his friendship with Jenna. But despite that mantra of the morning, he still found himself sinking with disappointment when her encouraging platitudes did nothing to dissuade the aching in his chest.
Now, sitting across from the highly intimidating Officer Millburn, he was too distracted by fear to worry about such trivial things as Jenna hating him.
“So,” the officer began, leaning back in his chair and waving a hand across the space in front of him, giving Jacob the floor. “Care to explain yourself?”
Jacob took in a deep breath. He had practiced this, although there wasn’t much to practice. “There’s no excuse, sir. I forgot to set my alarm the night before, and I overslept, so I missed our meeting. I’m very sorry, and it won’t happen again.”
The officer stared him down, nodding slowly at his defense. He let him stew in his fear for a moment before leaning forward, folding his hands together on the desk.
“Mister Perry, what we’re doing here,” he gestured around the dusty, old room, “is very important. I expect you to take that seriously.”
Jacob wanted to ask what was so “important” about him sitting in a chair while a parole officer stared at him for twenty minutes, frowning, since that’s generally what their meetings consisted of. But he thought better of it.
“Absolutely, sir,” he said instead.
Officer Millburn appraised his expression, apparently determining that he was sincere, because he leaned back in his chair again. “Did you leave a urine sample with the front desk?”
For some reason that irked Jacob, the way he always referred to the frazzled young woman, overwhelmed with files and phone calls every day, as “the front desk.” But he bit his tongue again and said, “Yes, sir.”
“And will I find any surprises there?” he asked, glowering with skepticism.
A small sigh escaped Jacob’s control. “No, sir. I don’t drink, and I’ve never touched drugs in my life.”
The officer snorted, and it provoked Jacob’s irritation enough for the hold he had over his tongue to disappear.
“My father was an alcoholic and my mother was addicted to heroin, so no, I’ve never done drugs, and I don’t drink,” he snapped. “That’s not exactly a legacy I’d like to continue.”
A touch of something softer than his usual expression flashed across Officer Millburn’s face before he covered it with another surly frown.
The officer set his reading glasses on the tip of his nose and picked up Jacob’s file, perusing through it.
“Your parents still around?” he asked.
Jacob was surprised by the off-script question. “No, sir.”
“Hm,” he nodded, still looking at the pages in his hands. “Any family left?”
“No, sir. It’s just me.”
He pursed his lips at the papers in his hands, not seeming to be reading them. It seemed they served merely as a way to distance himself as they spoke, reminding Jacob that he was his authority figure, not his friend.
“Says here you’re from New York City. What brought you to Ohio?” he glanced at Jacob over the top of his glasses with a wry smirk. “Running away from something?”
Jacob blushed. “Well… sort of,” he admitted sheepishly. “But also running toward something. A normal life.”
“Normal,” he drawled the word slowly, digesting its flavor. “And what exactly does a ‘normal life’ entail?”
“Um… I don’t know,” Jacob shrugged, unprepared for the question. “A job…,” he trailed off. It was meant to be a list, but that was as far as his brain brought him. “I guess I’m still figuring that out.”
The man snorted a chuckle, and it set Jacob’s teeth on edge. “I’m going to school right now, trying to decide what I want to study, where I see myself in the future,” he said, beefing up his credentials.
Officer Millburn looked unimpressed.
“How did you figure out what you wanted to do?” Jacob snapped. The officer raised an eyebrow at his tone, so he softened his question. “I mean… what made you want to be a parole officer?”
Officer Millburn chewed on the inside of his cheek until his lips were puckered tight. “I had a brother,” he began, evidently deciding Jacob was worthy of a response. “Spent most of his life in and out of prison. He was an addict – heroin, crack, you name it. Brought our family to ruins too many times to count.”
He flipped absently through the pages of Jacob’s file, staring beyond the words as he spoke.
“Then, one day, he was released from prison on parole and assigned to an officer,” he said, nearly cracking a hint of a smile. “That man changed my brother’s life. He found his motivation, went to rehab, got clean, and hasn’t touched the stuff since.”
“Hm,” Jacob muttered, taking in the story. “So… that’s what you wanted to do? Help people find a new life?”
The officer closed the file and tossed it back on the desk. Still reclined in his creaking chair, he appraised Jacob carefully and said, “Those who aren’t too far gone, yes.”
Jacob fought an eyeroll, but he couldn’t help the irritated scoff that escaped his lips. He wanted to take it back as soon as it was out, but the damage was already done, so he decided to lean into the skid.
“Look, I don’t know what I did to make you deem me a lost cause, but with all due respect, sir, if what you want is to help someone overcome their past and their circumstances, to find a new life and become a better man, that’s exactly why I’m here. And to be honest,” he shook his head, ignoring the self-righteous expression on the officer’s face and pressing on, “I don’t think I need your help with that. But… whether I need it or not, it would be nice to have your support.”
The second his little rant was over, the panic set in and he took a discreet, deep breath to calm himself. Officer Millburn was staring at him with wide, affronted eyes. It took a long minute for the shock to subside enough for the man to pull himself together and form a response.
After that long pause, he leaned forward, flipping open the file on his desk again.
“You’re going to school?” he asked, scanning the page of typed notes.
Jacob took another breath. “Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “Major of study?”
“Um, I haven’t really decided yet,” he admitted.
The officer shrugged it off. “You’ve got time to decide.”
He looked through the file thoroughly, leaving Jacob to stew in anticipation over
what kind of backlash his mouthing off would warrant.
After a few minutes, Officer Millburn closed the file, placing his folded hands atop it, and let out a long sigh.
He looked Jacob in the eye, this time without his usual glower. “Jacob, what are you hoping to get out of this relationship?”
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. He had always been “Mister Perry” to Officer Millburn, and he certainly never expected to hear that question come out of his mouth. He had no idea how to respond.
“Uh… well…,” he trailed off, racking his brain for an answer.
He thought again about all of the stories he had heard from other patients at Bellevue or online forums, on the subject. The relationship they described was very similar to that of a therapist and their client, but he already had that with Doctor Summers. In truth, he didn’t think he really needed anything from Officer Millburn. He came to these meetings because they were mandatory, the only thing keeping him from spending his life behind bars, so he tried to make an effort as best as he could. But he didn’t need another therapist.
“Honestly, sir… If I could just get through these meetings without being close to a panic attack every week, that would be great,” Jacob stated in sincerity.
He thought the man would be offended by the statement, but to Jacob’s surprise, he actually laughed. Not a mocking chuckle, but a real, genuinely amused sound.
Jacob chuckled himself, letting go a bit of the stress in his shoulders.
“I think we can make that happen,” Officer Millburn rose from his chair with smirk and held an outstretched hand to Jacob.
He stared at the hand for a long moment, still flustered by the sudden change in the mood of the room. When he realized the man was going for a handshake, he sprang up from his chair and reciprocated firmly.
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
“Anything else I can do for you before I send you on your way?” he asked.
“No,” Jacob answered too quickly. Remembering his plans for his upcoming winter break, however, he said, “Oh, actually… um…,” he paused, hoping he wasn’t pressing his luck with the officer’s newfound reasonability. “Well, winter break is coming up soon, and I was thinking maybe I would take a trip to New York, to visit some friends.”
Officer Millburn nodded, waiting for his part in this plan.
“But the thing is, visiting day at Bellevue is Saturday, so…I was thinking, if at all possible, maybe we could move our meeting to Friday afternoon that week, so I can make it to New York on Saturday before visiting hours end? And then, the following week, I wouldn’t be back until late Saturday night. So….”
Jacob held his breath, waiting for the “no” that would ruin all of his plans for his trip. He cursed himself for not asking sooner or coming up with a good backup plan if he denied the suggestion.
“I’m sure we can figure something out. That’ll be fine.”
He stared blankly at Officer Millburn’s oddly agreeable face. “Really?” he asked.
The officer gave him a small grin. “I think it’s important that you keep in touch with your past,” he said. “The key to moving on isn’t to evade, but to power through. Drudge through the drudgery, and come out the other side a new man, yes?”
“Um…,” Jacob paused, utterly baffled by the unexpected encouragement. “Yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”
He nodded. “Good deal.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jacob said, and he headed for the door.
He strutted back to the bus stop feeling lighter than air. Apparently, Office Millburn saw value in a man’s ability to be firm and stand up for himself. Jacob only wished he had discovered that sooner in their relationship, but given that this partnership still had many years to come, he was just grateful to have turned that corner at all.
He still had a lot to worry about, but in that moment, he sat on the bus stop bench with his chin held high, breathing in the fresh air and reveling in the relief of not having to dread Saturday afternoons for the rest of his life.
Maybe Officer Millburn would even have some advice about how to handle the Jenna Situation. Surely, Jacob thought, he couldn’t be the first person to struggle with the stress of new friends discovering his old life. Doctor Summers was encouraging, of course, but she didn’t have the same experience Officer Millburn had. She wasn’t accustomed to working with people quite like him. He made a mental note to open up to Officer Millburn soon, hoping that his newfound support wasn’t just a one-time fluke.
He spent most of the bus ride back to campus worrying about Jenna, trying not to think about Jenna, forcing his mind to other subjects that inevitably reminded him of Jenna, and then starting the process over again.
Even homework couldn’t keep his mind from her. Every time someone walked through the library door, he would look up, simultaneously hoping it would be her and hoping it wouldn’t be. He was too distracted to get anything done, so after several hours of futile attempt, he left it all for the next day, grabbed a quick bite from the cafeteria, and called it a night early.
Even as he took his pills that night, he had no hope of sleep. And to make matters worse, he didn’t want to risk running into Jenna in the lobby if he decided to go for a walk or a midnight snack, so he just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering where he went wrong.
Would it have been better if he had told her sooner, or not told her at all? He cursed himself for letting his guard down so easily. One game of “I Never” – without even alcohol to blame for his slippery inhibitions – and he was spilling all of his darkest secrets without even an ounce of prompting.
He should have kept his mouth shut. Everything was fine before that stupid game. He had a good job, friends who enjoyed his company, good grades, and had finally figured out a path for his future at college.
Now, work was awkward, having to see Jenna’s uncle and him not knowing their relationship was on the rocks. His best friend was likely never going to look at him the same way again, and how could he ever be expected to build a career on helping other people when he couldn’t even deal with his own baggage?
And on top of everything else, he was wide awake at two in the morning, with nowhere to go. He sat up in his bed, rubbing a hand across his exasperated face. Trapped in a cycle of negative thoughts, he decided to turn to the thing that had often managed to break him out of that cycle before.
He got out of bed and sat at his desk, opening the bottom drawer where he had stuffed Maggie’s journal. The last time he read any of it was the night he decided to take control of his life, to start living and having new experiences. Ironically, it was also the night he helped Jenna home and she wiggled her way into his life.
Picking up the journal, he ran his fingers across the old, rough leather, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He knew what he would find there. He had read her story enough times to know that the next several entries were not happy ones, and they wouldn’t get any happier. He would read along as his sister’s life got progressively darker, until all her hope was so stripped away that she had no choice but to leave it all behind, unknowingly running straight into her death.
He sighed and dropped the journal on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Reaching down to close the drawer, he stopped when he saw the gold chain coiled up inside. He had stuffed it in there the night before, when everything around him reminded him of Jenna, and he couldn’t bear to recall her breath on his cheek and the smell of her perfume as she lay next to him by the pond and examined the necklace. He picked it up, turning it around in his hands until the tiny silver chicken lay flat on his palm.
His first birthday present from anyone besides his sister’s dismal attempts at festivity with a batch of over-baked cupcakes and a match lit on top, in place of a candle. He thought about the night the necklace was given to him, the same night he unintentionally confessed his sexual abuse aloud for the first time. The memory alone made him hot with mortification, and he wanted to push it out of his mind, shut it away
with the necklace and the journal in the desk drawer where it belonged. But it was already out, now, and the rest of the accompanying thoughts came flooding to his mind in an overwhelming wave.
He thought back to that first night. Staring at his sweaty old neighbor, whimpering under the duct tape that covered his mouth. The adrenaline coursing through his veins, mixing sickeningly with the anxiety of the desperate need he had to get back the powerful control he felt after he left his home for the last time, and the fear of knowing, already, that it wouldn’t come.
He had tried with Detective Perez. Killing again did nothing to bring back that feeling for which he yearned. But he thought, maybe… perhaps just one more try. One more attempt to cover up the pain and grief of his life with some illusion of control.
So, he decided on his neighbor. He was a special kind of evil, always watching with a knowing grin as he and Maggie headed for the bus stop, like they shared a special secret. So, he took him to his cabin in the woods, and tried one last time to find his control.
It was still a fruitless endeavor, but that time was different. That time, he had Sarah.
After the gunshots rang, he knew he should run. There was no reason not to, and the police were likely on the way. He couldn’t even remember, now, why he had called them. Probably just a twisted way to add an element of risk, a last-ditch effort to shake himself out of pain and into anything else. He would have settled for fear, at that point, because even fear was a greater comfort than grief.
He should have run. But he wanted to hear her voice again.
She seemed nice, reasonable. Not a cop, so that was an automatic plus-one in the “win” column. But more than any of that, she was there. And there was all he really needed at the time.
Of course, all of that was gone now. Sarah wasn’t there anymore, and he had to stop thinking of her that way, as his saving grace. Doctor Yang once told him that some people are in your life for “a reason and a season,” as if the cute rhyme would ease the loneliness once that season was over.
Jacob stared at the necklace in his hand again, turning the charm over and over. He toyed with the clasp, and it fell open easily between his fingers. He secured the chain around his neck; it was a part of him – she was a part of him – and this was where it belonged.
