No Recording
2739 Words
Alina’s POV
For the first twenty minutes, I kept looking at him.
I tried not to.
I really did.
Eyes on the road.
Hands on the wheel.
Act normal.
But every few minutes, my eyes drifted toward the passenger seat like I needed to make sure Malik was still there.
He caught me the fourth time.
“You keep looking at me.”
“I’m driving.”
“You can drive and stare?”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You definitely were.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Boy, please.”
He smiled and turned toward the window again.
I looked at him one more time.
“See?”
“Shut up.”
Malik laughed.
The sound filled the car differently than it ever had over the phone.
Everything did.
His laugh.
His breathing.
The little noise he made when he stretched.
Even his silence felt different because I knew it wasn’t caused by a bad connection.
He was simply sitting beside me.
Free.
The highway stretched ahead of us, and Malik seemed determined to look at everything.
Cars.
Billboards.
Construction.
People passing us.
At one point, he stared at a gas station so long I finally asked, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been looking at that store for five minutes.”
“I can go in there.”
I glanced at him.
“What?”
“If I wanted to, I could tell you to pull over and just walk inside.”
My chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“And buy whatever I want.”
“As long as you got whatever-you-want money.”
He looked at me.
I smiled.
“Welcome home.”
“You starting already.”
“You’ve been free an hour. I can’t let you get spoiled.”
He shook his head.
“Pull over.”
“For what?”
“I want something.”
“You have an entire convenience store in my console.”
“I want to go inside.”
That shut me up.
“Oh.”
He looked at me.
“I just want to walk in.”
“Okay.”
I took the next exit.
A few minutes later, I parked outside a gas station.
Malik reached for the door, then paused.
“You coming?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah.”
I smiled.
“Then I’m coming.”
Inside, I grabbed a drink while Malik walked every aisle like he was conducting an inspection.
He picked up chips.
Put them down.
Picked up candy.
Read the package.
Put that down too.
I followed a few steps behind him.
“Malik.”
“What?”
“You know we have grocery stores at home, right?”
“I’m looking.”
“You’ve been looking for ten minutes.”
“I ain’t been in a*****e in years. Leave me alone.”
I immediately shut up.
He caught my expression.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get sad.”
“I’m not sad.”
“You got that face.”
“What face?”
“That ‘my poor baby’ face.”
I laughed.
“I do not have a poor-baby face.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Well, I’m not pitying you.”
“Good.”
He grabbed a ridiculous amount of candy.
I stared at his arms.
“You plan on getting diabetes before we make it home?”
“I couldn’t get half this in there.”
“Malik.”
“Freedom.”
“That is not what freedom means.”
“Means it today.”
At the register, he reached into his pocket.
I pulled out my card.
He stopped me.
“I got it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I said I got it.”
Something in his tone made me put my card away.
He paid.
It was such a normal thing.
A grown man buying snacks.
But when the cashier handed him his change, Malik looked down at the money for half a second longer than necessary.
Outside, he took a deep breath.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
He looked around the parking lot.
“It’s weird.”
“What is?”
“Everything.”
I waited.
“Nobody watching where I’m going. Nobody telling me where to stand. Nobody asking where I’m supposed to be.”
His eyes met mine.
“I forgot what that felt like.”
I reached for his hand.
He squeezed mine.
Then his mouth curved into a smile.
“Still bought my own snacks though.”
“There he go.”
“Independent man.”
“With twelve dollars worth of candy.”
“Don’t hate.”
I laughed as we returned to the car.
⸻
Thirty minutes later, Malik started messing with my radio.
“Don’t change my presets.”
“You got terrible music.”
“My music is fine.”
“Who listens to this?”
“Me.”
“Exactly.”
I slapped his hand away.
He caught mine.
Instead of releasing it, he brought it to his mouth and kissed my fingers.
My entire attitude disappeared.
I hated that.
“You can’t just kiss me every time you’re getting on my nerves.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“Because that’s manipulation.”
He grinned.
“Worked though.”
I snatched my hand back.
“I can’t stand you.”
“You love me.”
Unfortunately.
I didn’t say it.
Malik reclined his seat slightly.
“I’m hungry.”
“You just ate half a convenience store.”
“That’s snacks.”
“What do you want?”
He thought about it.
“A burger.”
“A burger?”
“A real burger.”
I glanced at him.
“With fries.”
“Anything else, Your Majesty?”
“A shake.”
“You’re doing a lot.”
“I been locked up.”
“You’re going to use that excuse for everything, aren’t you?”
“For at least six months.”
I laughed.
We found a restaurant near the highway.
Nothing fancy.
That seemed right.
Malik didn’t need candles and white tablecloths.
He needed normal.
We sat in a booth near a window.
He picked up the menu.
“Damn.”
“What?”
“These prices.”
I laughed.
“Welcome to 2026.”
“Twenty dollars for a burger?”
“Inflation.”
“They robbing people legally.”
“Pick something.”
He eventually ordered the biggest burger on the menu, fries, wings, and a milkshake.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You judging me.”
“Absolutely.”
When the food arrived, Malik went quiet.
He looked at the plate.
Then at me.
“Go ahead.”
He took one bite.
His eyes closed.
I burst out laughing.
“Is it that serious?”
He held up one finger.
“Don’t talk to me.”
“Malik!”
“Give me a minute.”
I laughed harder.
He took another bite.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“I missed food.”
Watching him enjoy something so ordinary made my eyes burn again.
I looked out the window.
“Alina.”
“What?”
“You doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Getting emotional.”
“I am not.”
“Look at me.”
I did.
He reached across the table.
“I’m good.”
“I know.”
“I’m here.”
“I know.”
“Then smile.”
I smiled.
“There she go.”
I squeezed his hand.
After a few minutes, he said, “This feels like a visit.”
My smile faded.
“How?”
“Sitting across from you at a table.”
“Oh.”
He looked around.
“But nobody watching.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
“No vending machines either.”
“Thank God.”
“And I can do this.”
He leaned across the table and kissed me.
Quick.
Soft.
Completely ordinary.
My heart reacted like he’d done something illegal.
When he sat back, I stared at him.
“What?”
“You can’t just do that.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
I stopped.
Because what?
There wasn’t a rule.
There wasn’t an officer.
There wasn’t anybody telling us what level of affection was appropriate.
Malik smiled slowly.
“Exactly.”
I shook my head.
“You’re going to be a problem.”
“I been telling you that.”
⸻
Back on the highway, we got quieter.
Not uncomfortable quiet.
Thinking quiet.
Malik rested his hand on my thigh.
Nothing s****l.
Just there.
Warm.
Present.
I covered it with mine.
Then I noticed something.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“We haven’t heard it.”
“Heard what?”
“The recording.”
He frowned.
Then realization crossed his face.
For years, nearly every phone conversation had begun with an automated warning reminding us that our words belonged to somebody else too.
This call is subject to monitoring and recording.
There had always been somebody listening.
Maybe not literally every time.
But potentially.
Our relationship had never truly had privacy.
Until now.
Malik looked at me.
“Ain’t nobody recording us.”
“Nope.”
“Ain’t nobody about to say we got sixty seconds left.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“So I can talk as long as I want?”
“Technically.”
“Technically?”
“You still have to shut up eventually.”
He squeezed my thigh.
“Always ruining moments.”
I laughed.
Then his voice softened.
“What are you scared of?”
The question came out of nowhere.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why are we getting serious?”
“Because we can.”
I looked ahead.
He waited.
I knew Malik.
He wasn’t letting it go.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
I sighed.
“You really want to do this today?”
“Especially today.”
I swallowed.
“What are you scared of?”
He asked again.
I could’ve given him something easy.
Adjustment.
Money.
Parole.
Finding work.
His family.
All legitimate fears.
But none were the fear sitting deepest inside me.
So I told him the truth.
“I’m scared we were better at missing each other.”
His hand went still.
I immediately regretted saying it.
“What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what I said.”
“No. Explain it.”
I took a breath.
“We’ve spent years loving each other from a distance, Malik.”
He listened.
“We knew how it worked. You called. I answered. We visited. I went home. We missed each other. Even when we were arguing, there was always distance between us.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
“Now there’s no distance.”
“That scares you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because what if wanting this was easier than living it?”
He didn’t answer.
So I kept going.
“What if we built this huge idea of what being together would be like because we couldn’t actually have it?”
“Alina—”
“What if you get home and realize you don’t like my routines? Or my house? Or the way I live? What if I realize I don’t know how to make room for somebody anymore?”
“You made room for me.”
“Physically.”
I looked at him.
“Emotionally is different.”
He stared at me.
I turned back toward the road.
“I’ve been independent a long time. I’ve made every decision. Handled everything. Slept alone. Woke up alone. Raised my family. Worked. Paid bills. Fixed problems.”
My voice lowered.
“And I wanted you here so badly.”
“But?”
“But wanting somebody beside you and learning how to live with somebody beside you aren’t the same thing.”
Silence.
I hated it.
“Say something.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, stop listening so hard.”
He laughed quietly.
“You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
His thumb moved against my thigh.
“You want to know what I’m scared of?”
I nodded.
“That you think I don’t know all that.”
I looked over.
He was staring straight ahead now.
“You think I expect to walk into your life and everything just fits.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“I know your life kept moving while mine stopped.”
“Malik…”
“It’s true.”
His voice wasn’t bitter.
Just honest.
“You learned how to live without me physically there. I learned how to love you without being able to do anything for you.”
His jaw tightened.
“You had bad days, and all I could do was call.”
I stayed quiet.
“You needed somebody to hold you, I couldn’t.”
My eyes burned.
“Something broke at your house, I couldn’t fix it. You were tired, I couldn’t take something off your plate.”
He looked at me.
“You think that didn’t bother me?”
“I know it did.”
“Nah. I don’t think you really know.”
His voice softened.
“I’ve been scared this whole ride.”
“You?”
“Yeah, me.”
“About what?”
“About whether I’m enough out here.”
That confession landed somewhere deep.
I reached for his hand.
“You don’t have to prove everything today.”
“I know.”
“Or tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“You just have to be here.”
He looked at our hands.
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
I squeezed his fingers.
“We’re probably going to get on each other’s nerves.”
“Already happening.”
“Malik.”
He smiled.
“You started it.”
“We’re probably going to argue.”
“Definitely.”
“There may be days when I need space.”
“Okay.”
“And days when you need it.”
He nodded.
I swallowed.
“But I don’t want us to be afraid of the hard parts.”
“Me either.”
I looked at him.
“So what do we do?”
Malik lifted our joined hands.
“One day at a time.”
“That sounds suspiciously mature.”
“Prison gave me wisdom.”
“Prison gave you audacity.”
“That too.”
I laughed.
And just like that, the heaviness lifted.
Not disappeared.
Lifted.
Maybe that was what freedom would look like for us.
Not pretending everything was perfect.
Having enough room to tell the truth and stay anyway.
The GPS announced we were forty-three minutes from home.
Malik looked at the screen.
“Forty-three minutes?”
“Yep.”
He became quiet.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He looked at me.
“Maybe.”
I smiled.
“There he go.”
“Don’t start.”
“Big Malik nervous?”
“You enjoying this too much.”
“Absolutely.”
He leaned closer.
“Keep playing.”
My stomach fluttered.
I focused very hard on the highway.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
That little smile appeared.
“Eyes on the road, Trouble.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed.
I turned the music louder.
His hand returned to my thigh.
Mine settled over it.
And we kept driving.
No countdown.
No recording.
No officer waiting to interrupt us.
Just miles disappearing beneath the tires.
For the first time, Malik and I could say everything we’d spent years swallowing.
We could argue without a call disconnecting.
Laugh without hearing a warning.
Sit in silence without wasting precious minutes.
We could finally learn each other without a clock.
Maybe that was what scared me.
Maybe that was what excited me too.
I glanced at him.
He was watching the road ahead.
Home getting closer with every mile.
For years, I’d known exactly how much time Malik and I had together.
Thirty minutes.
Two visits.
One Sunday.
Now?
Nobody had given us an ending time.
And somehow, that felt more intimate than anything we’d done yet.
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