Chapter 9 A Break
467 Words
I didn’t press call.
My finger hovered over 911 until my hand started shaking too bad.
I dropped the phone in the grass between us.
Elias didn’t move to pick it up.
He just watched me. Like I was a grenade.
“48 hours,” I said. My voice was raw.
“What?”
“You have 48 hours,” I repeated. “To go to the police. To tell them everything. With me.”
I swallowed. “If you don’t... I will. And I’ll tell them you ran too.”
He nodded. Once.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” he said again. Softer. “I deserve that.”
The river was loud between us.
I should’ve felt better. I didn’t. I felt hollow.
“Why did you stay?” I asked. “After you figured out who I was. Why didn’t you just leave town?”
“Because you were alone,” he said. Like it was obvious. “And he was hurting you. And it was my fault.”
He kicked a rock into the water. “I thought if I could keep you safe for a little while, maybe it would count for something.”
I picked up the phone. Put it in my pocket.
“I’m going home.”
“Can I walk you?”
“No.”
He didn’t argue. Just nodded.
“I’ll be at the station in 48 hours,” he said. “I promise.”
I walked away. Didn’t look back.
---
The next 48 hours were hell.
He texted once: _“I’m here. I’m not running.”_
I didn’t answer.
I packed a bag. I called my boss. I stared at Lila’s keychain until my palm had marks in it.
I kept waiting for him to disappear. For it to be another lie.
Hour 47. Knock on my door.
It was him.
Showered. Clean shirt. Hair wet.
He looked like he was going to a funeral.
Maybe he was. His.
“You ready?” he asked.
I nodded. Couldn’t speak.
We didn’t talk in the car. Didn’t talk in the elevator at the precinct.
At the front desk he said, “I need to make a statement. About a hit and run. November 14th, three years ago.”
The officer looked up. “And you are?”
“Elias Carter,” he said.
Then he looked at me.
“And this is Lila Martin’s sister. She deserves to be here.”
They took us to separate rooms.
As they were walking him away, he turned back to me.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
And then he was gone.
_I sat in that plastic chair and waited to see if the man I was starting to love would be taken away in handcuffs._
- Writer
