Like Lana

by Danielle Leonard

  “Where is it?” I ask. She inches past me and Demit, motioning that it’s outside. We follow her to the front step where she bends over, raises a flat stone from the garden, and lifts the knife wrapped in a green kitchen towel.

  “Here.” She hands it to me. I take it and pass it to Demit. Lowering the gun, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “God, Lana. You say I’m crazy?” Alysa says. “What the hell. I was only joking about telling the cops. I didn’t mention the knife at all.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I just want to put all this behind me,” I say, lifting the gun up, I shake it in my hand. “There are no bullets in it, anyway. It’s completely harmless. See?” I aim the gun at her and pull the trigger.

  “Don’t!” Demit yells.

  A shot comes out, jerking me back. I step one foot behind the other to catch my balance. Alysa drops to the ground, crumpled over the front walkway. Blood spreading across her white shirt and a pool of red creeping across the stones beneath her. I drop the gun, stunned, as Demit leaps to Alysa’s side, pressing the green kitchen towel against her chest.

  “Oh my god,” I’m too shocked to move. “I didn’t mean to,” I say, almost pleading. “I thought there were no bullets. You said there were no bullets, Demit.”

  “Oh fuck, Lana,” Demit says in a coarse whisper. Blood soaks through the towel he’s holding.

  “Is she dead?” Tears spill down my cheeks.

  “No, she’s still breathing, but barely.” Demit hasn’t looked up at me yet.

  “She’s going to live,” I say. I have to say it. I have to believe it. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to shoot her.”

  Demit finally looks up at me. “It was an accident.” He reiterates, locking eyes with me. “Call nine-one-one.” I nod and pull my phone from my pocket, dial emergency. Tell the operator someone has been shot. We need an ambulance. Here’s the address.

  “Do you think they’ll know it was an accident?” I ask. “What if I go to jail? For Fitz’s death, Stu’s death? And…”

  “She’s not dead,” Demit says. I look at Alysa. Her eyes are closed and her chest is no longer heaving.

  “Save her Demit,” I cry. “Don’t let her die.”

  Alysa’s head slumps to the side as Demit tries to lift her onto his lap. He presses his ear to her mouth, then looks up at me. There’s still a beat.

  “You have to go,” Demit tells me. “Don’t stop at your house. Just go. I’ll meet you in the field behind the coffee shop under the hydro lines. You know where I mean?” I nod.

  “But what about Alysa?” My voice sounds tinny, as if it’s coming through a cheap speaker.

  “An ambulance will be here soon. They’ll rush her to the hospital and then we will see if she survives.”

  “Will I go to jail?”

  “Maybe.” He cocks his head to the side. “We can’t take the chance. You need to go.”

  “Just run away?” It doesn’t seem right. But neither does going to jail. I can’t think straight, so I do as Demit instructs me. “You’ll meet me?” I ask.

  A woman in red track pants and a navy jacket walks by with a dog and stops to stare. “Oh my god!” she yells. I don’t take a second look at her. Picking up Demit’s bike, I ride as fast as I can away from the scene. You said there were no bullets. The phrase plays over and over in my mind. I can’t think of anything else as I pedal to the field. There’s no space for any other thoughts.

  ***

  “I’m going to jail,” I say matter-of-fact.

  “No, it was an accident,” Demit reminds me when he shows up at the field fifteen minutes after me.

  “But this doesn’t look like an accident. Nobody will believe me.”

  “That’s why we have to get out of here. We need to go.”

  “But where?”

  “We need to disappear.”

  I shake my head. What does he mean? Go where? There’s only one place for me now. I’m going to jail. I’m going to spend the rest of my adulthood in prison.

  “We’re going to get in my mom’s car and drive. I told her I need to borrow it. She doesn’t know that I’m taking off, but once we cross the border, I’ll leave the car somewhere and let her know where to get it. I have friends in New York City. Hopefully they can help us out until we come up with a real plan.”

  I finally understand what he’s telling me. “You mean, I’m going to be on the run? Like a fugitive?”

  Demit nods. “Yeah. Like that.” The fog in my mind clears just enough to understand what he’s saying.

  “You’re coming with me?” I ask.

  Demit nods again. “I can’t leave you, Lana. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Ever.”

  Chapter 22

  Starting at the End

  We walk along the sidewalk until we reach the middle of the bridge. Snow drifts around us as we take in the skyline of downtown Buffalo. I never went back home, never said good bye to my parents. It wasn’t worth the risk to get clothes and my passport. Instead, I emptied my bank account and Demit grabbed clothes for both of us before we drove toward the U.S. His sister’s passport, incredibly, got me across the border with no problem. My last blog post was published a few hours ago. Demit and I decided to leave the website live for now. There isn’t anything on it that I need to worry about. It’s simply the truth.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” Demit asks, pulling his from the pocket of his jacket.

  “Got it, here.” I lift it up. My mom sent dozens of texts over the past two hours. First demanding me to get home, then pleading with me to come home, then asking for a simple return text.

  “We have to get rid of the phones. We need to disappear.”

  My throat tightens as I nod. Demit wraps his arms around me and pulls me so close against his chest that I begin to believe there’s hope somewhere in our future. We separate long enough to send our final texts. I finally respond to my mom, telling her that I’m fine. That it was a horrible accident and I will reach out again in a bit. I don’t tell her what a bit really means because I don’t know, myself. I’m about to shut the phone off when one final text pops up.

  Love you

  I turn to him and lift my face to meet his. He kisses me so sweetly that it eliminates my sadness long enough to lift our phones over the railing of the bridge and throw them in.

  “It’s just you and me now,” Demit rests his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. We stare out into the grey water until the soles of our feet are frozen. And, we have no choice but to move on.

  The End.

  About the Author

  Danielle Leonard is an editor, writer, yoga teacher and mother. Her articles have appeared in various Canadian newspapers and magazines. She is the editor of a lifestyle magazine and lives in the Toronto area with her three teenage sons, dog and cat.