Infinity: Based on a True Story

by Shanora Williams

She resorted to the easiest moneymaking tactic when she was fired from her job—becoming a drug dealer.

  Dad wasn’t pleased with what Mom was doing, but he saw no other way to keep a roof over our heads during that time. He hunted for jobs but no one would hire him.

  Mom went missing more and more, and Dad withered away. He barely smiled for us anymore. He just… sat in the same spot on the sofa every day, staring at the blank wall across from him.

  Then, one day Sonny and I came home from school and Dad wasn’t sitting in his usual spot on the couch. I told Sonny to start her homework and then I went to their bedroom, and there he was. Lying on the bed, ensnared by the very thing Mom was so happy to sell.

  A needle stuck out of his arms. He kept saying he wanted to “try it and see if it would make him feel better.” Turns out that wasn’t his first time trying it. He went overboard with it, which resulted in one thing.

  Death.

  Dad wasn’t weak, but he loved Mom… only she didn’t love him the same way anymore. She treated him like less of a man—like he wasn’t a great father for keeping an eye on us while she scampered off and was soon tossed in jail.

  We were on our own since then, spending some of our days with Aunt Jessie until Mom got jealous about it and told her never to come around us again.

  When Mom was sentenced to ten years in prison, somehow she won the right to have us sent to live with our grandmother or in a group home instead of living with Aunt Jessie.

  Aunt Jessie treated Sonny and me like princesses—like we were her own girls. She couldn’t have kids of her own, so she took us in with open arms and did a terrific job helping us when our parents were too stoned to do anything.

  She was better than my mother was, and I think Mom knew it. What she did was more of a statement to Aunt Jessie. She wasn’t doing it because she felt it was the right thing to do. She was just being a bitch.

  Unfortunately Aunt Jessie died six months after Mom was sentenced. I heard it was peaceful. She died in her sleep. She’d developed a really bad case of pneumonia and didn’t know it. I didn’t even know until I broke Sonny and me out of the group home and went straight to her house.

  Grandma Lane had passed weeks ago, which was the reason we were sent to the home.

  I hated the group home, because, after only a month of being there, they tried to split my sister and me apart. I couldn’t have that, so I made a vow that I would take care of Sonny for the rest of my life as soon as I turned eighteen—do whatever it took to keep her head on straight and never let her down like our parents did.

  From what I remember, Dad was a great father, but I don’t think Sonny remembers much about him. I know he was a great one because I can remember the times he took us out for flavored, shaved ice and then to the park every Sunday.

  He hardly had two pennies to rub together, but he always saved up enough for us to do that. As we got older, it turned into getting ice cream and going to the movies.

  Mom never wanted to come.

  Back then I don’t think I cared much. Dad felt like more than enough.

  So far, I think I’ve kept my word. Sonny is a great girl with a good head on her shoulders. She respects herself, a little tough in the core, but that’s a good thing. No one admires a pushover.

  I know I can be tough, and it may have been rude to tell the woman that bore me to stay out of my life when she came to see me in the hospital, but I had no tolerance for her bullshit or ignorance. Enough was enough.

  She had the idea in her head that she’d start selling drugs again. She had no life. She had already started heroin and crack and she hadn’t even been out of prison for six months.

  She swore she’d get clean in the letters she sent me. The sad part about it is, deep down, some part of me believed her. That was my mistake, though.

  She broke that promise.

  I couldn’t trust her.

  Trusting her would have been putting my heart on the line. I was tired of being betrayed by her. The only way I would be able to keep my feelings and my heart safe was if she was no longer in the picture.

  After that day in the hospital, I never heard from her or saw her again.

  She was gone. Just like that. Within the blink of an eye. A snap of the fingers. Like fucking magic.

  Sonny thinks she’ll show up, but I know she won’t. My mother knows she fucked up with us—that she doesn’t deserve us. She doesn’t want the burden of my death on her shoulders.

  She doesn’t want to have to deal with Sonny’s tears when she comes to the realization that she was never there, that the only person that was ever there for her baby daughter was me.

  She doesn’t want to face the blame.

  She fucking sucks.

  I despise her… but I really do wish things had gone differently back then.

  Then, maybe, everything wouldn’t have turned out so bad.

  * * *

  Sixteen hours later I’m grabbing the handle of my suitcase and dragging it on its wheels as I walk to my front door. I take one final look around my home, cherishing every small fixture, every family photo—everything I may not get to see again.

  Something familiar catches my eyes and my body straightens as I walk towards it. Staring down, my heart catches.

  The picture frame on the table below contains a black and white photo. The photo is of John and me. I pick up the frame, examining the photograph.

  He’s looking down at me lovingly, his eyes peaceful. I have on the perfect wedding gown, my hair neatly pinned up. It was a wonderful day. I was laughing as he said something to me, my hand clasped in his, our eyes connected.

  My eyes burn from unshed tears. In that moment, two years ago, I was the happiest I’d ever been. I had just married the man I was excited to share the rest of my life with. A gracious, protective man that always put me first.

  I’ve called him a dozen times and I’m running out of time. Every time I call, he gets caught up. I’m too afraid to just spring it on him out of nowhere. I know that I will be back before he returns. Our trip won’t be very long.

  I just need that confirmation… but at the same time I don’t want to let Max down or regret turning down the flight.

  I take out my cellphone and give John one last call, hoping he answers. Praying he does.

  But he doesn’t. So, I do what I should have done before. I leave a voicemail. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Probably because I know John is terrible with listening to them, but hopefully if he sees it’s from me he’ll listen to it.

  “Babe, I’m going to Paris. It’s a last minute trip but Dr. Barad said it was okay for me to go. I know you won’t be to happy to hear this,” I laugh, “but I’ll call you again as soon as I land. I love you. Call me back or leave a voicemail if I can’t get to the phone. Good luck out there! I love you!”

  I feel horrible for not telling him who I’m going with. But he’ll call back and he’ll ask and I’ll tell him who I’m with. He won’t be too happy about it, but he’ll get over it. John trusts me, and I would never hurt him.

  This trip is for me to get away—to stop betting on which day my life will end. Everyone dreams of doing something spontaneous in their life. Fulfilling a dream. I think I deserve at least some of that.

  I hang up and the door swings open behind me. Max barges in, grabbing my suitcase as I slide my phone into my clutch.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  I nod, turning with haste as I reach for the handle of my suitcase, taking it from him. “I got it.”

  “You sure?” he asks, raising a brow.

  “Yep. Come on, Grant. Don’t wanna miss our flight!” I rush out of the door and he follows closely behind me. Once it’s all locked up, the alarm set, he pulls off and it’s now when my pulse catches speed.

  Reality curveballs me.

  I can’t believe I’m really doing this. Although Dr. Barad gave me permission to go, even he said that the OPX might not work the entire time—that I’m close
r and closer every day to my lungs giving out.

  But even though he tells me the truth of it, he wants this for me, too. He wants me to live before I actually die. He hardly even knows me and he cares.

  Don’t do anything crazy.

  Don’t do anything crazy.

  Don’t do anything crazy.

  Those words… they ring in my head. Chime. Playing over and over again like a broken record. I promised I wouldn’t, but that promise has already been shattered.

  It’s crazy for me to travel hours away from home—away from my doctor and the love of my life. It’s fucking insane, but it’s what I want. I can’t keep denying myself happiness. Maybe he’ll finish the competition early and he can fly here…

  I sigh.

  What the hell am I thinking? That would never work.

  I’m hoping once John hears my voicemail, he’ll understand and won’t overact. I hope he accepts my reasons once I get the chance to explain—this trip I really wanted before finally resting in peace.

  If he does, I will be able to claim harmony. I will be ready to go. I will be okay and I know he will be too.

  I know he wanted to share a trip like this with me one day so maybe he should fly here. Maybe he and Max can make amends for my sake.

  See. I think everything will be all right.

  What am I so worried about? Everything will be okay.

  The man sitting next to me, with a smile so big—the one that has yet to stop talking about the places we’ll explore when we arrive—will be okay, too. Maximilian.

  He’ll be fine because he’s given me something I’ve always wanted. He’ll be proud of himself, and that will outweigh the heartache and pain. The loss and my absence.

  He will move on peacefully.

  That’s all I can ask for right now.

  My phone rings, interrupting Max’s chattering.

  John

  Yes!

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but we need all cellphones and electronic devices shut off. The plane is about to take off.” The flight attendant touches my arm, smiling kindly as she looks from my phone, to the tubing in my nose, and then into my eyes.

  “Oh. Yes. Right. I’ll shut it off right now.”

  Damn it, John. Why couldn’t you have called five minutes sooner?

  “Come on, Shakes.” Max slouches back in his seat. “Tell the hound you’ll talk to him in three days. This time is all yours.” He thinks John already knows I’m on this trip with him.

  I smack my teeth, prepared to turn my phone off but the text I receive from John surprises me. Actually, it terrifies me, but only because I can’t respond to ease his worried mind.

  He’ll wonder. Get curious. It’ll mess with his head, maybe even the meetings he has while he’s down there. He won’t able to focus because he’s too worried about his sick wife.

  John: WTF are you thinking, Shannon!? Paris??? Are you crazy?! Do NOT go on that trip!

  “Damn it,” I breathe, shutting the phone off as the flight attendant walks past, eyes hard on mine, scolding.

  I tuck my phone into my backpack, swallowing thickly as I call for the attendant and ask for a bottle of water before take off.

  She nods and goes to the back. I turn to look at Max. His eyes are already closed, but immediately they pop open.

  He reaches across, placing his hand on top of mine. I glance down at his hand, how his skin is about two shades lighter than mine, like light brown sugar.

  I look back up. He’s already looking at me, his eyes gentle, his body lax. He leans my way, murmuring, “Don’t let him change your mind about this,” in my ear. “This is your chance at living. At freedom. Be strong.”

  My face goes blank as I face forward, accepting my water from the attendant that comes by again. My body now feels hot. By the look on the flight attendant’s face as she handed me the water, I’m sure I look even more flushed than usual.

  I look out of the window, watching the ground move as the plane starts to move forward.

  When we’re in the air and the thick clouds pass by us, I close my eyes with the turbulence, gripping the arms of the chair, realizing that going on this trip with Maximilian Grant may not be the wisest thing to do right now.

  I mean, I know it isn’t, but this is Paris we’re talking about. Paris! How could I turn down a calling to I place I have dreamt of my entire life?

  Jesus. What was I thinking?

  Maybe I shouldn’t live this out and risk it all.

  Maybe I’m better off dying in the safety of my home.

  Chapter Twenty

  Present

  The plane ride didn’t turn out to be so bad.

  Max had no choice but to get first class seats so I had plenty of space. Other than his obnoxious snoring, it was okay. I don’t know how he slept. I couldn’t.

  It was hard containing my mix of anxiety and excitement. It’d been a while since I flew on a plane. The last time I did was when John and I flew to Colorado to spend the weekend at the mountains.

  John…

  He’s all I’ve been able to think about. I’m sure he’s tried calling me dozens of times. I have to remember to call him first thing as soon as we get to our hotel so it doesn’t seem like anything’s wrong.

  Fortunately, I upgraded my phone plan for international calls and text.

  The airport is crowded, Max pushing through the people with my arm hooked in his, our bags strapped together.

  “This is fucking insane,” he mutters as we finally reach the glass doors. For a moment I think we’ve finally hit a clearing, but I’m wrong.

  Outside the airport is a flood of people waving their arms in the air, flagging down cabbies. They’re practically pouncing on top of each other.

  “Wow,” I say, eyes broad. “This is wild.”

  “Tell me about it.” Max pulls his arm out of mine, whipping out his cellphone and checking something.

  “What are you doing?”

  He momentarily disregards me, and after spending about two minutes searching, he slides his phone into his back pocket, reaching for my hand with one of his.

  “This way.” He turns to the right, pushing through the crowd and rushing across the pavement. When we’re away from the people flagging down cabs or hopping into their personal vehicles, Max makes his way toward a bridge.

  “You good?” he asks me, looking over his shoulder, prepared to stop.

  I nod my head, continuing the walk. “Surprisingly, I’m okay.”

  “Good.” We cross the steel bridge, the rocky pavement making the bottoms of my shoes feel weird. It’s a beautiful spring day in Paris. I am already in awe of this lovely city.

  When we finally make it across the bridge a staircase appears, leading down to a tunnel.

  “The Metro?”

  He grins. “Way better than waiting hours for a cab, right?”

  My eyebrows shift up, amused. “Smart.”

  We carefully walk down the stairs and Max stops in front of the map, checking our destination. When he figures out where we are we proceed down the hallway, meeting at revolving silver turnstiles.

  He digs in his pockets, sliding in a few euros, collecting our tickets, and then walking through with my hand still in his.

  I was absentminded for a second, clinging to him to get away from the crowd, but now that we have a little more room to breathe, I release his hand, doing my best to keep it casual.

  Of course, he notices, looking at me briefly but not saying anything. Instead, he keeps it light, walking ahead and stopping a few feet away from the tracks.

  He drops his bag but hangs onto the handle of my suitcase, spinning it on its wheels as he says, “Well, we made it. What do you think?”

  “Hectic already,” I breathe out, adjusting my tubing.

  “That’s just the airport. Paris is a 24-hour city. Never a dull moment, so I’ve been told.”

  “Well, what are we going to do first?”

  “First,” he says, releasing the handle and walk
ing towards me to adjust my backpack, “you’re going to get some rest. We’ll check in at the hotel, you can freshen up and eat—whatever you wanna do, so long as it doesn’t require a lot of movement. I feel like that was already too much walking, across the bridge and down the stairs.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m fine. Look at me?” I hold my hands out.

  He lowers my arms, pinching one of my cheeks. “Your cheeks are flushed. You’re tired. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  I bite into the corner of my lip, sighing. “I just need to sit, that’s all.”

  He quickly leads me towards a vacant bench, allowing me to sit and then going back for our bags. When he’s back, he sits beside me, shaking his head.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You aren’t the girl I met four years ago, Shakes. You can pretend to be her, but I’m just going to ignore it. If I’m moving too fast for you, let me know. I can slow down. This trip is for you.”

  “I can keep up.”

  He flattens his lips, giving me a stale face. “I’ll move slow, that way you can feel like you’re beating me. How’s that?”

  “Fine.” I take out my bottle of water, chugging it. “But when I disappear because I’m moving so fast, don’t come looking for me.”

  He chuckles, his head dropping, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. Finally, the train comes whizzing by, the brakes squealing as it comes to a complete stop.

  Max collects our bags and then helps me stand, walking to the train with his arm draped over my shoulder.

  Once inside, I take the last empty seat in the back. It’s jam-packed, leaving Max to stand in front of me, shrugging.

  “We can trade,” I offer.

  “Please.” He smirks when I roll my eyes. “I’m good, Shakes. Take it easy. Enjoy the ride.”

  And I do. I know he’ll be okay, so I pull out my phone, holding it up for a signal. I don’t get one single bar in this damn tunnel.

  “Shit.”

  “What’s up?”

  “No signal,” I murmur.

  “Wanna try mine?”