Just a Little Series (Part 1)

by Tracie Puckett

There wasn’t much solace to be found in a 6x8 holding cell.

  As I slouched lower on the wooden bench, I rested my head against the cold brick wall. I couldn’t stop thinking about Lonnie. I couldn’t believe I’d let myself cross that line. I’d betrayed Luke. I’d told Lonnie. The one thing he’d specifically said is that he didn’t want his father to find out why he really left. He didn’t want to hurt him. And I screwed it up.

  I could only imagine what he would say when he found out.

  Dammit, Julie, I could hear him yell. He’d twist his face in anger and hold a breath, biting his tongue so as not to say exactly what was on his mind. Can’t you mind your own damn business?

  But this was my business… somehow….

  All I could do now was pray that he would understand. He had to. It was too late. I couldn’t go back; it couldn’t be undone.

  Lonnie needed to know why Luke resented him. They needed an icebreaker, and I was okay being the buffer. Maybe now they could talk, and let bygones be bygones.

  “Julie.”

  Luke’s voice resonated. I hung my head lower; I couldn’t face him. Not like this. I could only imagine what he was about to say.

  “Julie,” he said again, his voice softer than before. I finally looked up to meet his gaze. He rested his forehead against the opposite side of the steel bars. He wore a grin, and then looked away to suppress a laugh. A moment later, he turned back and looked down at me. “Whatcha doin’ in there, kid?”

  “Thinking about what I’ve done,” I mocked Charlie.

  When he’d shoved me into the jail cell—slamming it and locking it behind me—he’d promised that I wouldn’t be allowed out until I agreed to apologize to Lonnie Reibeck for publicly humiliating him. Apparently I was supposed to be learning some kind of lesson as I sat and thought about my actions.

  Luke sidestepped to the door, inserted a rusted key, and turned the lock. He pushed the door open and motioned for me to come out.

  “I can’t,” I said. “Charlie’ll freak—”

  “Okay,” he said, coming inside. He shut the door behind him— latching it at the same time and joined me on the bench. “So,” he said with a little rasp in his voice, “whatcha in for?”

  “Disturbance of the peace.”

  “You guilty?”

  “Of course,” I said. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Bruno called,” he said. “He couldn’t quit laughing, actually. Said I had to come down and see it for myself.”

  “Lovely,” I rolled my eyes.

  “So,” he said, still trying not to laugh at my expense, “what exactly did you do?”

  “I caused a scene at the diner.”

  “Yeah?” he asked. “You want to elaborate on that?”

  I closed my eyes for a minute and then opened them slowly. I watched Luke, studying the sadness in his eyes. He was calm now, but it was clear he hadn’t heard what had happened. I didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

  The moment he learned what I’d done, he’d be angry. He’d leave.

  “I don’t wanna tell you.”

  I looked away, but Luke leaned forward to steal my gaze.

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll leave,” I knew there was more truth in that than anything. “You’ve mastered the art of running, Luke. And when I tell you… when you find out what I’ve done….”

  “Julie,” he said, taking my hand, “what happened after I left the diner?”

  I lowered my head, refusing to say anything. When five slow minutes passed and neither of us exchanged another word, Luke dropped my hand and stood up.

  “See?” I said. “I haven’t even told you yet, and you’re walking away.”

  He walked to the door. He reached into his pocket, pulled the key from inside, and threw it through the bars. The key slid at least ten feet down the hallway—far from reach.

  Now he’d done it. He’d locked himself in the jail cell with no way out.

  He turned back to me and shrugged, “I’m not going anywhere, Julie. Now tell me what happened.”

  I spent the next fifteen minutes reliving the conversation I’d had with Lonnie in the diner. I told him every detail that I could remember, except for the moment when Lonnie grabbed me. I didn’t see any point in adding fuel to the fire. Luke was already mad. If he found out that Lonnie had touched me… well, any plan he’d had to make up with his father would cease to exist.

  Luke was still standing. He leaned his back against the bars and watched me in silence.

  “I’m sorry,” I said for the hundredth time. “I know you didn’t want him to know the truth, and I never meant to tell him. But I couldn’t stop talking. I was so angry. So... hurt. I couldn’t let him sit there and act like your life didn’t matter. He owes you an apology, Luke. He owes you so much—”

  “Julie,” he said, holding his hand in the air to silence me, “it’s okay.”

  I blinked repeatedly for a few long seconds, “It is?”

  “Do I wish you’d respected my wish and let me deal with it on my own terms? Yes.” He pushed his fingers back through his hair and then stepped away from the bars. He walked over and squatted in front of me, taking my hands. “But if the tables had been turned, I probably would’ve done the same thing, kid.”

  “Really?” I asked, relieved that he wasn’t yelling at me or scolding me for not minding my own business. Instead, he was holding my hands, caressing my fingers, and looking at me with nothing but love.

  He finally pulled himself up and sat down on the bench next to me. I leaned over and rested my head in his lap, staring out at the opposite wall. He combed his fingers through my hair, and the soft stroke of his hand calmed my nerves. My heart found a rhythmic balance for the first time since he held me at the Fall Ball. My breathing finally steadied.

  I closed my eyes and enjoyed the touch of his legs beneath my cheek and his fingers in my hair. I don’t know how long we sat there, neither one of us speaking. It must’ve been a while because before I knew it, Charlie was nudging me awake.

  

  Luke was gone by the time Charlie retrieved me from the holding cell. I don’t know how he slipped away without waking me, or how he’d gotten out without a key, but he was definitely gone. My guess was that Detective Bruno had helped him escape, but I couldn’t figure out how I’d missed it. Either way, I was glad he wasn’t there. There was no telling how Charlie would’ve reacted to finding me and Luke locked in the same cell together.

  By the following day, I still hadn’t heard from Luke. It seemed like things were back to normal again.

  No calls.

  No texts.

  No Luke.

  Apple cinnamon candles were burning all around the house; it was my mom’s favorite scent this time of year. Since the anniversary of my parents’ death was quickly approaching, I’d been feeling very nostalgic.

  “It’s okay, Julie. It takes a few times to get it right,” Matt placated me. I doubted it ever took him more than one time to master anything in the kitchen. The first time I pulled mom’s secret recipe holiday cookies out of the oven, they were beyond saving. The bottoms were burnt black, but the tops were doughy and uncooked.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Mattie,” I said, dumping the cookies into the garbage. “Mom never ruined a batch—”

  “Let me help you,” he came over to my side of the counter.

  “No,” I said, reaching for the flour and sugar, “I have to do this.”

  I stared at the recipe for another minute. It amazed me how much I hated baking. Mom had always loved being in the kitchen; needless to say, she and Matt loved each other’s company during the holidays. And I knew she wouldn’t want to see me fretting over something so simple because it just wasn’t in my soul to be so domestic.

  Mom would want someone enjoying her recipes as much as she had, so I nodded and looked to my cousin.

  “You do it.”

  I pushed the recipe across
the counter until it stopped in front of Matt.

  “I thought you wanted to—”

  “This is your area of expertise,” I said, handing it over once and for all. “I’ll just keep wasting ingredients until I get it right, and God knows that could be forever.”

  “Really?” he flipped through the handwritten cookbook.

  “It’s all yours,” I knew there was no place safer for my Mom’s beloved recipes than in the hands of Matthew Little. “Honestly, I have no use for it.”

  Matt’s face lit up. He pressed an obligatory kiss to my cheek and darted toward the refrigerator for eggs.

  I left the kitchen with my head hanging low. I passed Charlie in the living room and nodded, but didn’t say a word as I headed for the front door.

  “Where are you going?”

  I stopped, already holding the door knob in my hand, and turned back.

  “To see Derek,” I said. “He’s been in a bit of a funk lately. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

  After all, he had every right to be a little down, didn’t he? It’d been his father who’d committed the terrible crime that robbed me of both of my parents. That night Derek and I both became victims of one very horrific event. It just seemed natural to be with someone who truly understood that pain. He needed me as much as I needed him.

  “So, if it’s okay?”

  Charlie nodded and looked back at his paper.

  A short walk across the lawn later, I stood on Derek’s front porch, knocking away. I waited in silence for two full minutes.

  Nothing.

  It wasn’t like him to ignore a knock, so I assumed he was out. His car wasn’t in the driveway, and he almost never parked in the garage. I rang the doorbell in case my knock wasn’t loud enough, but still no response. It didn’t dawn on me until the second ring that Elvis wasn’t barking. The dog always guarded the door when Derek was out. Wherever Derek was, Elvis must’ve gone too; there wasn’t a single sound coming from inside the house.

  Shrugging, I stepped down from the porch and walked to the garage. Looking through the small windows lining the top of the door, I immediately noticed it was empty. Not only was Derek’s blue Prius not parked inside, but the boxes that usually lined the far wall were also missing.

  I ran back up to the porch and started banging on the door.

  “Derek!” I yelled. “Derek! It’s Julie! Are you home?”

  I waited for a brief second and then ran to the window to peek inside. The house was empty. The few furnishings he’d had were no longer there. I hopped off the porch and dug up a spot in the flowerbed where I’d once watched him hide a spare key.

  I went back to the door, unlocked the bolt, and pushed it open.

  The reality of the emptiness stopped me dead in my tracks. My stomach felt as hollow as the room I was looking at. The house was vacant; there was nothing left.

  “Derek?” I asked, tears filling my eyes. “Hello?”

  My voice carried through the empty rooms, echoing off the naked walls.

  I walked slowly through each room.

  The living room… the kitchen… the bathroom… Hannah’s old bedroom—all empty.

  I turned the corner and faced the door at the end of the hall. Derek’s bedroom door was shut, but I didn’t have to open it to know what I would find. If the rest of the house was any indication, Derek’s room would be nothing but an empty void of space.

  I took slow steps to the final door, grasped the knob, and took a long, deep breath. Tears filled my eyes as I braced myself for the emptiness. But when I opened the door, something suddenly caught my eye.

  There was a box, a small, blue shoebox, sitting in the middle of the hardwood floor; it was the only thing Derek had left behind.

  I stared at the box for what felt like an eternity. My heartbeat was gaining momentum by the second. I closed my eyes and thought back to a day I’d shared with Derek in this very room just weeks ago.

  “Get rid of the box, Derek,” I’d told him. “You are not defined by the things your family has done. I know who you are, and this isn’t you talking. That box… everything in it… it’s trash. You need to stop holding on to it. You need to move on. We both do.”

  Sitting on top of the box was a white envelope with my name scrolled neatly across the front. Taking slow breaths, I suppressed the tears that came to the surface. I walked to the center of the room and sat down next to the shoebox, picking up the envelope. I opened it carefully, scared of what the letter inside might say.

  Julie,

  I don’t have to tell you what you already know. If you’re reading this letter, you can already see that I’m gone.

  I wanted to say goodbye, but I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t come up with a good enough explanation, and I knew you’d never let me walk away unjustified.

  I had to leave Oakland; I couldn’t stay anymore. The guilt has become too much for me. This house… the memories… it haunts me every day. I have to find myself again, Julie. I have no choice. If I want to survive this pain, I have to move on.

  You were right. This box—and everything in it—is holding me back. I can’t keep living with the ghosts of my past. I have to put all of that behind me now, and that includes you.

  Please understand that this isn’t personal. I care about you… so much. But I can’t face another day with the reminder of who I really am or the places I’ve been. I can’t look in your eyes one more time and see the hurt and pain that my family has caused.

  I need a new start… alone.

  Elvis is at the shelter; he’ll find a good home, I’m sure.

  I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch with the parade, but I have a world of faith in you. You’ll do great.

  Maybe someday we’ll meet again. I truly hope that’s the case. But now isn’t the time. I need to follow my heart. And so do you.

  Thank you for being the friend I always needed,

  Derek

  PS I hope you find the happiness you’re searching for, with or without Luke.

  I read the letter a second time and wiped away my tears. I buried my face in my hands and cried, letting my tears seep through my fingers and create a puddle on the floor.

  It was a pain I had yet to experience, the kind that I’d accused Lonnie of inflicting on his own son. It was the pain of being abandoned… by choice.

  Derek wasn’t really gone, but he had left.

  I dropped the letter to the floor and looked at the box.

  Why would he leave it? What did he want me to do with it? I didn’t want his memories.

  I pulled the lid off the box and caught a sob in my throat… because all I found was a pile of ashes; he’d burned everything that he’d collected over the years. The pictures, the newspaper clippings, the suicide note his mother left… it was nothing but gray ash lining the bottom of the box.

  My heart ached as I stared at what was left of Derek’s room; there was nothing but four walls, a single window, and a box and envelope on the floor.

  It felt foolish to mourn after someone who’d intentionally left me behind, but somehow I found the strength to smile. He was doing what he had to do. He finally trusted himself to be the person he needed to be.

  Derek had done many great things in the short time that I’d known him, but walking away was probably the most admirable thing of all.

  He was starting over.

  I picked up the box, the letter, and the envelope and carried them out of the room. I walked slowly through the house, taking the time to reminisce. As I stood at the front door, one foot already on the porch, I looked back in the house and nodded.

  “Thanks for the memories,” I whispered, finally stepping out and closing the door behind me.

  I kept the key; it didn’t belong in the ground. I wanted to keep it with me, just in case I ever needed it. Just in case I ever did run into Derek again… so I could give it back to him… and so he would always know that he could come back home.


  There would always be a place for him in Oakland, and he would always have a place in my heart.

  FIVE