by M. Never
After a few, dragged out minutes, they start shuffling in—a bunch of men in dark green scrubs and cheap slip-on shoes. Okay, I won’t lie . . . I was expecting orange jumpsuits. What the hell do I know?
When I spot Ryan, my heart catapults into my throat. He doesn’t look thrilled to see me. At all. My soul crumbles into little pieces on the floor. Right at his feet.
We both pick up the phone when he finally sits down. It takes an eternity.
“Hey,” I breathe eagerly, but he barely even looks at me.
“Alana, what are you doing here?” Ryan’s voice is husky, strained.
“I wanted to see you. Give you some moral support.” I try to keep the mood light, but it’s a challenge, this whole situation is a total downer.
“You shouldn’t have come.” Ryan keeps his eyes trained on off to the side.
“Ryan,” I murmur, “please, look at me.”
He refuses to lift his head, so I wait patiently until he’s ready to draw his eyeline to mine. When he finally does, his big blue, radiant irises are full of so much pain and resentment and despair.
“I love you, and you being in here doesn’t change that,” I declare.
Ryan stares at me callously, and for the first time, he’s openly wearing the scars of his past. “I found Sean,” I go on, and his face perks up.
“Where is he?” Ryan pushes, leaning forward.
“Gone, for now. But my uncle has the sheriff’s department looking for him.”
“Where did you find him?” Ryan asks anxiously.
“Do you really want to know?” I bite my lip.
His expression darkens. He knows exactly where I found Sean. “Alana, you shouldn’t have gone there.” He scolds me.
“I shouldn’t do a lot of things, Ryan, but that’s never stopped me before.”
Ryan immediately drops his head.
“I didn’t mean you,” I clarify swiftly. “You’ve always been right.”
Ryan lifts only his eyes, and they’re cloudy with tears. “You’ve been the only good thing in my entire life, Alana.” He covers his mouth, determined to hide the emotion that’s escaping. My heart separates.
“Then, please, don’t shut me out.”
“I don’t know what else to do. It’s over. My fate is sealed.” Ryan rakes his hands over his face. “I’ve always known I’d end up here.”
“It’s not over yet, Ryan. I still have one card left to play.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He cocks his head up with the receiver to his ear.
“If they can’t find Sean, I’m going to talk to my father.”
“Alana, don’t you dare.” Ryan nearly lunges out of his chair. “Don’t you dare throw your life away because of me.”
“It’s no kind of life without you.”
“There has to be another way. We can appeal? Right?” Ryan grasps at straws.
I shake my head sadly. “Ryan the evidence against you is overwhelming. The decision will never get overturned.”
“So, how is you talking to your father going to help me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I can appeal to his emotional side?”
Ryan breaks down, shaking his head feverishly. “Alana, it’s over, just let it go.”
He’s completely given up.
But I haven’t. I can’t.
“Ryan, listen to me. Don’t get sucked down into a pit of despair. I need you—”
“Need me, for what?” he lashes out. “I’m stuck in here. In Hell. What can I possibly give you now?”
“Strength.” I match his opposition.
“What?”
“Strength. Your strength is my strength,” I state sternly. “Do you remember when we first met, how closed off I was? It drove you crazy.”
“I remember,” he mumbles.
“Do you remember what you told me?”
He pauses, his blue-eyed stare getting lost in the memory. “That showing emotion isn’t weakness, its strength.”
I nod. “You changed my entire life that day, and I don’t even think you realized it. I never meant to fall in love with you, but I liked who I was when I was with you. I like who I am now. And it’s because of you.”
Ryan frowns.
I don’t think I’m getting through to him at all.
“Ryan,” I whisper desperately. “Don’t walk away from me.”
His face falls, recognition written all over it. He asked me not to walk away from him, now I need the same in return. “I would never walk away from you, Alana. I did that once, and it almost destroyed me.”
“Then, please, stay strong so I can be strong. So, I can be strong for the both of us.”
“I don’t want you losing everything.” Ryan’s tone is laced with misery.
“It’s going to happen regardless.” I grip the receiver tighter. “The question is, are you going to be the one who picks up the pieces when it does?”
“I want to be.”
“I want you to be, too.” I put my hand on the glass and a buzzer suddenly goes off. Visiting hours are over.
Shit.
Ryan puts his hand to mine—one, thin, maddening piece of transparent solid separating us. Not being able to touch him is agony. I just want to punch through the goddamn window and grab him. Hold him, hug him, tell him everything is going to be okay.
Even when we both know it’s not.
I watch helplessly as the correction officers herd him and the other inmates away—all of them blending together like a green-clad mob, Ryan vanishing from my sight.
As I stand there, I feel unexpectedly cold, empty and desolate.
It’s the identical to the feeling I experienced when I watched Sean disappear.
And suddenly I’m alone, powerless, and want to fucking cry all over again.
I FRET ON the bench outside the courtroom. Today is Ryan’s sentencing hearing.
I know I shouldn’t be here, but I just can’t abandon him when he needs me most. I keep holding out hope, praying the sheriff’s department finds Sean in time. It’s 7:53 a.m., and Ryan’s court appearance is scheduled twenty minutes from now. Twenty-two minutes to be exact. Twenty-two minutes left for fate to decide how Ryan’s future—and mine—is going to play out. Life changing together or life changing apart, because even if I do confront my father, there’s no guarantee I can keep Ryan out of jail. I can, potentially, give up everything and get nothing in return. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. For Ryan, I would risk almost anything.
The double doors at the end of the long hallway swing open and the sound of high heels tapping vigorously against the marble floor echoes. I look up to find Emily and my uncle walking briskly toward me.
“Alana.” Emily hugs me once she reaches me.
“What’s going on?” I hug her back puzzled. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“Honey,” my Uncle John breathes a little too gravely, “they found Sean.”
“They found him?” Hope sprouts in my voice. He hands me a piece of paper, and I grab it. Unfolding it, I scan the report, my vision becoming blurry.
“He was dead when they got there.” My uncle tries to console me.
The police report reads: dead on arrival, suspected cause of death, heroin toxicity.
I crush the paper against my chest and stumble back, my uncle catching my arm. I try to get a grip, but the enormity of what I just read levels me.
Sean’s dead?
Sean’s dead . . .
The world crumbles around me.
Ryan. All I can think about is Ryan. This is going to destroy him. After everything he’s done for his brother. This is how it ends? How much can one person possibly take? And where will he mourn? Alone, in a prison cell, accused of a crime he didn’t commit.
No.
All at once my entire life falls away.
“Alana, where are you going?” I hear Emily ask from the edge of my thunderous thoughts. I don’t respond. I don’t even turn around. My legs just move
on their own accord.
There’s an extreme transformation of time as I walk. Everyone around me is moving at hyper speed while I’m stuck in slow motion. All my senses seem heightened—I can feel the slight breeze from the air vents above me, smell the floor polish percolating from marble beneath me, hear my pulse thump in my ears like a drum inside me, and taste the remnants of the last supper on my tongue. My last supper—a cup of coffee and a half-eaten granola bar.
I stomp up to the door of my father’s chambers and am met by his watchdog, Miles. A court clerk who is a miserable, little snivel of a man with an unhealthy predilection to sweater vests, and treats me exactly like the spoiled, rich girl he perceives me to be.
“Alana, you can’t go in there!” he snaps. “He’s about to go into court.”
“I know,” I snap back, surprising him. “That’s exactly why I need to see him.”
To my amazement, Miles backs down, but not without a contemptuous glare. I grab the doorknob, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I’m about to wash my entire existence out to sea.
I burst into my father’s chambers. “Alana?” He looks up from his desk immediately, perplexed.
“Daddy, I need to talk to you.”
He’s a little taken back, but keeps his composure, just like I’m attempting to do.
“What’s the meaning of this? I’m due in court.”
“I know. Daddy, please listen.” Shit, I should have prepared a little better, because suddenly I don’t know what to say. “Your first hearing, the guy. He’s innocent.” I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind. It’s not pretty, but it will have to do.
“What? Alana, this is highly irregular and completely inappropriate. I can’t discuss my cases with you,” he bites.
“I know that, but you don’t know the whole story, and you’re about to sentence an innocent man.”
“How do you know he’s innocent? And how the hell do you know him?” My father’s dark eyes are as cold as a block of ice.
“He’s a friend,” I stumble over my words.
“So, then you know I’ve already convicted him once on a very similar offense,” he relays condescendingly.
“Yes, I know, and he was innocent then, too. His twin brother used his identity, and Ryan went to jail for his crime.”
My father scoffs like that’s preposterous. Then a disturbed flash of recognition flickers across his face after I speak Ryan’s name.
“I’m not lying to you. He did it because he was afraid Sean would die in prison.”
My father sits behind his imposing desk a superior entity, stiffer than a statue of an ancient Judge of the Dead.
“And I suppose next you’re going to tell me the drugs they found on him were his brother’s, too?” he inquires superciliously.
“Yes!” I explode emphatically.
“So, where’s his brother now? Because it’s obvious this boy is feeding you a load of lies. Blaming his transgressions on someone else.”
“It’s not a lie,” I demand and my father pins me with his emotionless eyes. “Ryan didn’t do it, and Sean’s dead. He overdosed.” I wrap my arms around myself, the words scorching my lips. “I’m not even sure if Ryan knows.”
“Alana.” My father is clearly unmoved. My outburst having no influence on his impending decision. “He’s pulling the wool over your eyes, all he sees is a meal ticket.”
“Daddy—” I protest.
“Alana, enough,” he silences me, “this conversation is over. It never happened as far as I’m concerned. Now, go home.”
“No,” I growl.
“Alana, don’t push me,” he warns.
But I’m going to push him—right to his limit.
“You can’t do this. It’s wrong. He’s innocent.” I hold my ground.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He all but dismisses me—like always.
But not this time.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” I rise out of the shadows. Out of his inhibiting, black shadow.
“He’s trash on the street.”
“He’s not, and I love him!” I shout, my whole body suddenly seizing. There’s a tightness in my chest, and a strange feeling burning my eyes.
My father stands slowly, threateningly. “Alana, I am going to say this one last time. Leave. Never speak of this again, and I won’t retaliate.”
Retaliate? I’m his daughter, for Christ’s sake.
“You won’t retaliate!” I throw his words back at him, slamming my hands on his desk, my palms stinging on impact. I drop my head, trying to restrain the rapidly building emotion, but I can’t control it. It’s too strong. Too fast. Too overpowering.
The thought of losing Ryan utterly destroys me.
“I have done everything you ever asked me to,” I bubble tumultuously. “I’ve been everything you ever wanted me to be, and I know,” my chest heaves, “I know you wish it was me who died in that car accident instead of her.” My eyes are becoming glassier with every syllable. “But I’m begging you now, if you ever loved me—ever—please, don’t take Ryan away.” And as the words fall from my lips, so do the tears from my eyes. Huge, wallops of jewels that explode when they hit the desk, ricocheting tiny droplets all over my hands and the cherrywood finish.
It has finally happened.
I have finally been stripped bare.
I lift my head and look up at my father. He’s frozen in place, stunned by my outburst. His eyes like two huge, brown disks, flat and inanimate.
“Alana, you need to leave. Right now.” His voice is hoarse. “There’s nothing I can do.” He drops the gauntlet just like that. Just like my pain, and sorrow, and suffering is nothing.
I stand up straight with the tears proudly streaming down my face. It seems now that they’ve started, they won’t stop.
I look at him dead in the eyes. How is this man any part of me?
“I hate you,” I hiss. “And I’m done.”
“Done with what?” my father demands.
“Done with you. And done being your daughter.” I turn and stalk to the door, grabbing the doorknob. “Goodbye, Daddy,” I declare without so much as a second look. My decision is final. It’s definitive, decisive, and resolute.
I tear past Miles and back down the marble hallway of the courthouse, bawling the whole time. I walk into the courtroom to find Emily and my uncle sitting in the gallery. They both rise when they see me, Emily nearly tackling me with a hug. I sob into her shoulder as she holds me tight, my uncle rubbing my back. When I finally lift my head to look at them, I’m distraught. “I think I’m going to need a place to live,” I snivel.
They both nod feverishly, and Emily pulls me back into her arms. Suddenly, we hear the shuffling of feet and the closing of a door. I look up to see Ryan being escorted into the courtroom with a bailiff holding his arm. He halts when he sees me, a myriad of emotions darkening his beautiful face.
I’m sorry, I mouth. The tears starting again.
A moment later Miles announces my father. I sit down despondently next to Emily. She holds my hand as I just stare at the two most important men in my life—the one who never loved me and the one who always will.
“Have faith, Alana,” Emily encourages.
“Faith, Em? My whole world is about to come crashing down around me. I don’t think faith can help me now.”
We all stare at my father as he commands the bench, stately in his black robe and serious expression. Miles reads over the proceedings, recapping for everyone why Ryan is here. Once that’s finished, it’s time for sentencing.
My father looks around the room impassively before he speaks.
“Mr. Pierce, it’s disappointing to find you here again, although not surprising. You are unfortunately the product of your environment, and it saddens me that you were not able to rise above it. But I understand the difficulties, I see it in this courtroom every day. Waste that will recycle through the correctional system until it finally just d
issipates.”
I squeeze Emily’s hand as I listen to my father’s unconscionable testament. He’s twisting the fucking knife.
“I believe you deserve the maximum sentence, Mr. Pierce. This is your second offense, and I see a pattern beginning.”
My heart is rupturing beneath my chest. I’m not sure I can handle this. As I glare at my father, I can’t help but to think that Ryan and I have lived the last two and a half years in vain.
“Now that I have you back I’m not letting go of you again. . . . I need you. . . . You make me happy here. . . . I’ll always take care of you. . . . I’ll make love to you the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.”
I can’t comprehend how we got here. I have excelled in every aspect of my life. Risen to every occasion. I am programmed to succeed; my father made it so. Yet, here I am, staring defeat right in the face. Confronted with separation. Twenty years of injustice. Demise at its best. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it except watch as the next five minutes goes up in flames like a fatal car crash in the middle of the road—my spirit and emotions left burning in the wreckage.
“With that being said,” my father declares dissatisfied, “some recent developments have come to light.” Looking straight at me, he states, “I understand you are in a relationship with my daughter.”
My body stiffens as Ryan glances back at me dumbfounded.
“Don’t look at her, son, I’m the one talking to you,” my father asserts. “Do you admit to being romantically involved with my daughter?”
“Um, yes, sir,” Ryan responds stunned, but confidently.
“Is it still going on?”
“Yes.”
