The Lock Artist
Page 37
Funny how it works out, huh? Because of Gunnar’s double-cross, Sleepy Eyes ended up living. And in the end he was worth a lot more to me alive than dead.
Add it all up and I was sentenced to a term of imprisonment of at least ten years and no more than twenty-five. I was eighteen years old when I was arrested. Nineteen by the time I was finally sentenced. I ended up right here, and you should have seen these people for that whole first month, treating me like I was the amazing Houdini, able to escape from any prison in the world. Like I’d actually be able to break my way through my cell door, then the block door, then the wing door, and probably seven other doors before I got to the outside world. It was almost laughable.
But like I said, ten to twenty-five. Leaning toward ten, I’d like to think. And ten’s just about up. So now I’m in the zone, right? Any day now, I could get the news.
Any day now.
I’ve had a lot of time to think, of course. What else am I going to do? I play everything back and I see the places where I could have gone down another road. How that would have made everything turn out differently.
In the end, I regret most of it. But I don’t regret anything that happened with Amelia. I’d do it all again if it meant being with her.
I got my first letter from her about four years in. Yes. I say letter, but it wasn’t a letter at all. It was a page of comic book panels. Just like old times.
The first panel was Amelia wearing a wedding dress. I practically died right there, seeing her in that dress. Knowing that she was moving on with her life. Getting married to somebody else. I couldn’t stand it. I mean, why would she even send this to me?
That’s the kind of thing that was going on in my head, before I even got to the second panel. She’s looking at herself in the mirror, everybody fussing around her dress and not noticing how unhappy she is. There’s a thought bubble over her head. “Why can’t I forget him?”
She’s leaving the room in the next panel. Everyone running around behind her, yelling at her, asking her what the hell she’s doing.
She’s in her car. She’s driving somewhere.
She stops the car on Victoria Street. Yes, right by the old house. Where we spent that night drawing on the walls. This time, instead of going to the house she goes right down to the river. She’s slipping her big wedding dress over her head now. Leaving it there on the riverbank. Taking off the rest of her clothes. Yes. She draws the scene from behind, as she stands naked on the edge of the river.
Then she does it. She dives right in.
She’s in the River Rouge now. The dirty water so thick she can barely see through it. She’s swimming down, all the way to the bottom. As she does this, her legs disappear. Or rather, they come together and form a single tail.
That’s right. That’s what she drew.
She’s a much stronger swimmer now, with the tail. She can go anywhere in the river she wants. She can stay down there forever. But she’s looking for something specific. She’s looking for the safe.
Finally, she finds it. She starts spinning the dials. Another thought bubble over her head. “Good thing he gave me the combination.”
Crazy, I know. But I know exactly what she meant by that. I gave her the combination. Her and only her.
She dials the last number. She turns the handle and opens the door.
And there I am.
I’m an adult. Midtwenties, looking a little tired, but very much still alive. There are bars across the safe door. I am sitting in my miniature prison cell, inside the safe.
“What took you so long?” I say. Saying the words to her, out loud. Even though we’re underwater.
That was it. The last panel.
That’s how it began between us. Again.
We’ve kept this up for the past five and a half years. This is how we stay in touch with each other. It’s like we both live in this imaginary world where we can be together, every single day. It’s still not easy to be in here, believe me. But with Amelia waiting for me, I think I’ll make it.
I still haven’t said a real word yet. I’m sure as hell not going to try as long as I’m in this place. But when I get out…
The first time I see her again…
I don’t even know what the first word will be. But it’ll be there, waiting to come out.
After all these years, I’ll say something.
I know I will.
Steve Hamilton
***
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