All the Glory

by Elle Casey

  “Nothing. Just that he did it and he didn’t want to talk about it.” He paused as he grabbed the rectangular door handle. “I cannot understand how he could have come to this place in his life. I never imagined …” He stopped there, shaking his head.

  Even though it was really warm out, a chill settled into my bones. How much could I possibly know Jason Bradley when his own father didn’t even know him? Was this a smart thing to do? Visit him in jail? I knew my mother was going to shit a toaster when she found out, and she would find out, that was for sure. Nothing gets past her, like, ever.

  “Maybe we’ll find out how it all happened or why,” I said, not sure that we ever would.

  “Let’s hope so,” he responded, opening the door so I could go in before him.

  Chapter Ten

  WE HAD TO WAIT A long time before Jason joined us in the room that had all the same features as the one in the local jail but bigger. I texted Bobby pretty much the entire time, relieving Mr. Bradley of the chore of conversation. He was really stressed out. He kept staring at the door, waiting for it to open.

  When it finally did, I put the phone in my bag and stared at Jason as he shuffled in. He wasn’t wearing his own street clothes anymore. Now he was in a bright red jumpsuit with slippers on his feet. His eyes were bloodshot and his black eye looked even worse.

  Mr. Bradley started clearing his throat over and over. I caught his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he tried to control his emotions. It scared me because I wasn’t used to seeing adults look so lost.

  Jason sat down in his metal chair across from us and rested his hands in his lap. At first he kept his eyes down, but then he glanced up at me. “Thanks for coming again.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. So polite. So lame.

  He cast his eyes down.

  “Is your lawyer coming?” Mr. Bradley asked.

  “No. He’s got other cases.”

  I looked from father to son and back to father again. “Is he using one of those free lawyers?” I’d seen them on TV a thousand times, those court-appointed defense attorneys you get if you can’t afford a real one of your own. It was weird to realize that I knew somewhat how this system worked.

  “For now.” Mr. Bradley explained. “I have to see if I can get a second mortgage on the house. If I can, then we’ll get him a better one.”

  “Don’t bother,” Jason said, looking up again. “I told you there’s no point.”

  “Son, don’t say that.” Mr. Bradley leaned in closer, putting his arms on the table in front of him. “We can get you out of this. Self-defense or whatever it was, I know you’re not guilty.”

  Jason looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. “Of course I’m guilty, Dad. Don’t kid yourself. I fucking killed him, okay? I punched him over and over and he slammed his head into the desk. He never woke up. I did it. I’m a murderer.” He turned his head slightly to look at me, his anger simmering just below the surface. “You got that? A murderer. So you can stop showing up and feeling sorry for me.”

  I blinked a few times, letting my brain absorb not only the facts but the rejection. I kind of went cold, but only because the emotions were just too much to process on the spot like that.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked, sounding angrier.

  “Son…”

  Jason whipped his head over to stare his father down with a malevolent glare. “Just … shut up, okay, Dad? Sorry to say that, but shut the hell up. I don’t want to hear it.” Jason stood and looked over his shoulder at the door.

  “Sit down,” I said, not really knowing what I was going to say until I said it. “I drove all the way over here from school to see you, and you can at least have the decency to talk for two minutes.”

  Ha! There I was, sitting in jail ordering a murderer around! I was temporarily insane, apparently. But it made me appreciate on the tiniest level that sometimes we can be a different person in a split second when the pressure is on. Maybe that was what happened with Jason and the coach. It made me braver, fueled the fire that was burning in my chest.

  Jason looked down at me with an expression on his face like I was nuts, which to be fair, I probably was to say that.

  “Decency?”

  “Yes,” I said, sticking my chin out, “decency. Just because you’re a murderer doesn’t mean you don’t have to be polite to people anymore.” Or maybe it did, but this was the only argument I could come up with.

  Jason’s face went all wonky for a few seconds, like he was going to cry or scream or something … and then his features smoothed out and he kind of smiled. “You’re seriously strange, you know that?”

  I could sense Mr. Bradley looking at me, so I turned my head to face him. “Sorry. That was rude.”

  His eyebrows went up and he shook his head. “No, you were right on the money.” He looked up at his son. “Can you sit down please? We’re here to talk. No pressure. We can discuss school, or how you’re feeling, or football, whatever you want.”

  Jason dropped into the seat and scowled. “Not football. Do not talk to me about football ever again.”

  That told me more about what Jason was going through than anything else he’d said. No more football. The thing that had been the centerpiece of his life, of his teenage reality … gone. Poof. Like it never existed.

  The door opened and a man stuck his head in. “Hello! Mr. Bradley?”

  Jason’s dad lifted his head and his expression lightened up. He seemed happy to see whoever this was. “Oh, hey. You want to come in?”

  “Actually, I’d like to speak with you outside if you have a minute.” He nodded at Jason. “Hello, Jason. How’re you holding up?”

  Jason shrugged but didn’t say anything.

  “You okay in here alone?” Mr. Bradley asked me, standing in front of his chair.

  “Sure. No problem.” Only after I agreed did I realize I was telling him I was fine alone in a room with a self-proclaimed murderer. It probably should have freaked me out, but it didn’t. This was Jason sitting here before me, not some deranged psychopath. I did kind of wonder why none of the adults around me were concerned, though, especially since he admitted to the crime. But no way was I going to mention rules or whatever. Jason needed to know I wasn’t afraid, even if I might have been just the littlest bit.

  “There’s a guard just outside the door who’s watching,” the guy in the doorway said to me as if he’d read my mind. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

  I hated him in that moment since he gave voice to my temporary thoughts. And Jason heard it too, which made it ten times worse.

  “Of course I’ll be fine.” I scolded him with my squinted-up eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  They guy’s eyebrows went up, but then Mr. Bradley was standing in front of him and his attention was pulled away.

  A moment later Jason and I were alone in the room, him in handcuffs and me in a panic. I had no idea what to say to him. There were no words that could express my pity or my sadness over what had happened, and I didn’t even know what had happened.

  “I’d never hurt you, you know,” Jason said finally after a very long minute of silence. He sounded awkward. Embarrassed. Ashamed.

  I tried to laugh it off. “I know that. Please. As if.” I rolled my eyes, but my grip on my bag went tighter all on its own. Not that there was anything inside that would have helped me if he did decide to attack me. They’d searched it at the main door and pulled out my nail file and my mascara. I had no idea that mascara was such a dangerous weapon until today.

  Jason stared at the table for a while before he asked his next question. “Is everyone at school talking about it?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Everyone. It’s like the biggest news since Obama.”

  “Great.” He turned his head and stared at the side wall. “Brittney say anything to you?”

  “Brittney? No. I heard her talking to some guy, but whatever.” I wished as soon as the words were out that I’d kept my big mouth shut. Jason didn’t need
to hear what a b-word his girlfriend was right now.

  “She dumped me you know. Did it through my dad. Sent him a frigging text message.”

  I pressed my lips together trying to keep my opinion to myself, but it didn’t work. “What a bitch.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, well … can’t blame her, can you?”

  “Hell yes, I can blame her. Where’s the loyalty?” I did some sort of half-grunt, half-snort that Bobby would have roasted me for. So not lady-like.

  He stared at me for a long time after that. So long that I started squirming in my chair. But I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. He needed to see that I meant what I said.

  “Loyalty,” he finally said.

  “Yes. Loyalty.”

  “It’s a funny thing, isn’t it?” He cocked his head to the side a little.

  I frowned, not sure I understood. “I don’t know. Is it?”

  He nodded. “It is. Trust me. It is.”

  My heart started racing. I knew he was talking about the coach somehow, telling me something about what happened without actually saying it. “You’re a loyal person too, you know. I don’t know you that well, but I know that.”

  “Apparently not,” he said, sounding bitter.

  I took my bag off my shoulder and from across my chest and dropped it on the floor next to me so I could pull my chair in closer. “You are. And you’re a good person, Jason, so whatever you did, I know you did it for a good reason.” I desperately wanted him to believe that.

  He looked at me like I was an asshole, a scowl of disgust on his face. “How can you say that? I murdered someone. With my bare hands.” He held them up for me to see. The handcuffs banged against the metal table making a loud clatter.

  I shrugged, refusing to look at them, like it wasn’t the biggest deal in the entire world that he murdered someone, which it was.

  “Like I said. It can’t have been in cold blood. He said something or he did something that was wrong.” I prayed it wasn’t him putting Jason on the bench during the big game, because as much as I liked Jason and as much as I appreciated him defending my best friend all those years ago, that was not a good reason to kill a man.

  Jason’s eyes took on a faraway look and then went red. Tears welled up and then just fell down his face. He didn’t make a move to wipe them away.

  “I trusted him,” he finally said, his voice hoarse.

  “Everyone does,” I said in almost a whisper. “Did, I mean.” I cringed at my use of the past tense. What a jerk I can be sometimes.

  Jason turned what looked like fury on me. “We were wrong. We were all wrong.”

  The door opened and Jason’s father came in followed by that other guy, stopping our conversation or whatever it was that was happening in its tracks.

  Relief washed through me. Things had gotten suddenly intense, and I hadn’t been prepared. I wanted to know what he was talking about and then I didn’t, too.

  “Jace, your attorney wants to talk to you alone.” He looked over at me. “Katy, do you mind waiting outside?”

  I leaned down and grabbed my bag, feeling guilty over the fact that I was happy to be interrupted. Jason had sounded like he was about to lose it, and I didn’t want that for him. I didn’t fear for my safety, but I knew he was walking the fine line between sanity and not, and I didn’t want to be the one to inspire him over the edge.

  “Yeah, sure, no problem,” I said.

  As I was walking by Jason, I stopped and put my hand on his arm. I didn’t want to disappear without saying anything. I knew what he’d shared was a lot, and I’d keep those words to myself as long as I lived. I could do that for him. I could be loyal as hell when the need arose.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Jason,” I said, squeezing his forearm, sensing the strong muscles under the stiff material of his jumpsuit. “I’ll see you again real soon.”

  “Don’t bother,” he muttered.

  For some reason, I had this flash in my mind that he was Bobby and not himself. That’s the only explanation for my next move.

  I lifted my hand and bapped him on the back of the head with it. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, butthead. And you can stop being ungrateful while you’re at it, too.”

  I walked out of the totally quiet room leaving three stunned-into-silence men behind me.

  Chapter Eleven

  I LEFT THE COUNTY JAIL before Mr. Bradley came out. I was too embarrassed about losing my cool and assaulting his son to hang around and wait for him to appear. I chanted prayers all the way home that Mr. Bradley wouldn’t come by and tell my parents what I’d done.

  Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed without incident. Mr. Bradley never showed up, and Bobby agreed to wait until tomorrow to grill me about my visit.

  When I went to bed, I lay there staring at the ceiling, hugging my old teddy bear to my chest like I used to when I was tiny. I’d rescued him before bedtime from a bookshelf where he’d been banished a few years ago when I’d decided I was too old and sophisticated to sleep with baby toys.

  Not normally a very religious person, I was moved to break my normal routine of falling asleep to visions of sheep jumping over a line of monster trucks and prayed for my friend instead.

  Dear God. Can I call you God? I was a little worried about being too casual since we really weren’t on speaking terms, but I figured he wouldn’t mind in the end and kept on going. Anyway, I have this friend. You know him. He’s Jason. He broke probably your biggest rule or commandment or whatever you call it on Friday night. I’ve heard you’re a forgiving kind of deity, so I’m hoping that applies to him. I don’t think he meant to do it, or if he did, there’s a good reason for it. I know the rule is that there is no good reason to end someone, but I don’t really believe that rule. I mean, not that I’m in a position to judge, but I feel like I have heard of lots of monsters who don’t deserve to be here with people who, you know, don’t hurt other people or whatever. So if you could find it in your … heart or … whatever organ you use, if you even have organs, could you forgive him? Help him out? Let everyone see who he really is? Including me? That would be really cool. Okay … that’s all I have for tonight … high five … peace out. Oh, and thanks.

  I fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep where Jason’s face kept coming back up, floating before me with the red jumpsuit below it, him saying, I trusted him. I trusted the coach. I trusted him.

  I went ahead and classified it as a nightmare when the next scene in my brain was Jason being buried alive, with me standing there holding one of the shovels of dirt.

  Chapter Twelve

  TUESDAY WAS A RAINY, CRAPPY day. The perfect weather for my terrible mood. Not only was I tired from a partially sleepless and partially nightmare-filled night, but my car decided it didn’t want to start when I tried to leave for school.

  I called Bobby, irritated beyond reason. I couldn’t keep the snappishness out of my voice. “Can you borrow your mom’s car and come over here and get me?”

  “Well, good morning, Miss Merry Sunshine. And how are you this lovely day?” His voice was way too chipper, grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

  “My life is poop on a stick, thanks for asking. Are you coming or not?”

  “Let me see. Hold on.” I waited while he screeched down the stairs at his mother. He came back on the line a few seconds later. “She says yes, but we have to put some gas in it.”

  “I have five bucks.”

  “Done! said the king with a stroke. I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Make it five. I can’t be late.”

  “Bossy pants? Hello? Okay, fine. I’ll be there, but don’t expect me to be beautiful. You’re cutting into my regimen.”

  By regimen he meant the fifteen minutes he spends putting lotion and crap on his face every morning. He constantly worried about wrinkles. He says his mother’s face is like the map of the highways and byways running through the northeast United States and he has to do whatever he can to avoid that same fate
.

  While I waited for Bobby to show up, I texted Mr. Bradley. It felt a little strange doing it, but I forged ahead anyway. He didn’t seem to mind me visiting his son. Hopefully the slap-on-the-head situation hadn’t changed his opinion of me too drastically.

  When can I visit Jason again?

  Just as Bobby was pulling up to the front of my house, the answer came back.

  Next week. Monday again. 4:30. Meet you there?

  I texted back an affirmative as I went out to the car, getting in beside Bobby and hitting Send. I was disappointed it wasn’t today or even tomorrow, but decided I should be grateful he was letting me see Jason at all.

  “Who you texting, yo?” Bobby asked, using his best ghetto accent.

  “Jason’s dad. Setting up our next visit.”

  Bobby didn’t say anything for a while, which was a sure sign he had something to say. Otherwise, he would have been prattling on about nothing.

  “Go ahead and just say it,” I sighed out. “Stop playing like you’re not about to get all up in my bidness.”

  “I’m just worried is all.” He patted me on the leg. “You’re getting very involved, and right now the only ones who know that are Jason and his dad and me. But pretty soon people at school will know and then you’ll get labeled.” He looked over at me with concern in his eyes, the genuine kind, not the goofing around kind. It reminded me way too much of an expression I’ve seen on my mother’s face.

  My temper started to rise over the fact that he felt the need to chastise me, as if I were just a stupid little kid who needed adult guidance.

  “Labeled?” I did my best to keep my anger hidden. “Labeled as what?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Groupie or something?” He glanced over at me to gauge my reaction.

  I ignored his look, staring out the front window and trying not to get angry over the utter stupidity of high school people — a completely pointless exercise if there ever was one. It’s a fact; high schoolers be stupid.