CHAPTER 9
1377 Words
The prison smelled like bleach and regret.
Hope sat in the visiting room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. The room was cold. Sterile. Gray walls. Gray tables. Gray chairs.
Everything was gray except the hope she was holding onto.
She'd been waiting for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of staring at the door, willing it to open, willing him to walk through it.
And then he did.
David looked different. Thinner. Tired. His face was paler, his eyes darker. But when he saw her, he smiled.
It was the same smile. The one that made her heart skip. The one that made her forget why she was supposed to be scared.
He sat down across from her. A table between them. A glass divider. A lifetime of distance.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she whispered.
"You came."
"I said I would."
"I know." He leaned forward. "I just didn't think you'd actually show up."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I told you not to wait. Because I told you to move on."
She shook her head. "I can't move on. I don't want to move on."
"Hope—"
"Don't tell me to move on. Don't tell me to forget about you. I made my choice. I chose you."
He looked at her for a long moment. Then he said, "You're the most stubborn person I've ever met."
She laughed. It was a broken, wet sound. "I know."
"I love you."
"I know."
"I mean it. I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you in the back of that room."
"I know that too."
"Then why are you here? Why are you doing this to yourself?"
She reached toward the glass. Her hand pressed against it. He pressed his hand against hers.
"Because I made a promise," she said. "I promised I'd be here when you got out. And I keep my promises."
He smiled. It was a real smile. Warm.
"What if I don't get out?" he asked. "What if I'm in here for ten years? Twenty? What if I'm in here forever?"
"Then I'll wait forever."
"You can't do that."
"Watch me."
He laughed. It was a real laugh. The kind that made her forget where they were.
"I don't deserve you," he said.
"I know."
"You're supposed to argue with me."
"I'm not going to argue with something that's true." She smiled. "But I don't care. I don't care if you deserve me. I care about you. And I'm going to be here. Whether you like it or not."
He stared at her. Then he said, "I love you so much it hurts."
"I love you too."
They sat in silence for a moment. Then David said, "I've been thinking about something."
"What?"
"When I get out, I want to start over. I want to leave this town. I want to go somewhere no one knows me. I want to play music again. Real music. Not the kind that comes with deals and danger."
"That sounds beautiful."
"It sounds impossible."
"Nothing's impossible." She pressed her hand harder against the glass. "When you get out, we'll go wherever you want. We'll start over. Together."
"You really mean that?"
"I really mean it."
He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "I don't know if I deserve a second chance."
"You do."
"Hope—"
"You do. You made mistakes. But you're trying to be better. That's what matters."
He looked at her. His eyes were wet.
"What if I fail?" he asked. "What if I can't be the man you think I can be?"
"Then I'll help you try again."
She meant it.
And he knew she meant it.
---
The guard announced that visiting hours were almost over.
Hope stood up. David stood up too.
"I'll write to you," she said. "Every week."
"I'll write back."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She pressed her hand against the glass one more time. He pressed his hand against hers.
"I'll see you soon," she said.
"I'll be here."
"I know."
She walked toward the door. She stopped. Turned around.
"David," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Don't give up. Please. Don't give up."
He smiled. "I won't. Not as long as you're waiting for me."
She walked out of the prison.
And for the first time in months, she felt hope.
---
She went home.
She sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out a piece of paper. She started writing.
Dear David,
I know I just saw you. But I already miss you.
I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. I miss the way you look at me like I'm the only person in the world.
I miss the music.
I know you told me not to wait. I know you told me to move on. But I can't. I don't want to. I want to be here when you get out. I want to be the person who reminds you that you're worth fighting for.
Because you are.
I believe in you. I always have. And I always will.
Stay strong. Stay safe. And don't give up.
I love you. I'll see you soon.
Love,
Hope
She folded the letter and put it in an envelope.
She would send it tomorrow.
She would write another one next week.
And another one the week after that.
Because she'd made a promise.
And she always kept her promises.
---
Six months later.
Hope sat at the coffee shop.
The same one. The same corner. The same orange juice.
She was writing another letter to David. She'd written seventy-two of them. One for every week he'd been in prison.
She was telling him about King's first school play. About Elijah's engagement. About Victory's acceptance into university.
She was telling him about her life.
And she was telling him that she was still waiting.
She looked up. The door chimed.
And there he was.
David was standing in the doorway.
He was thinner. Older. His hair was shorter. He was wearing civilian clothes.
But it was him.
She stood up so fast she nearly knocked over her orange juice.
"David?"
"Hey."
"How—"
"They let me out early. Good behavior. Cooperating with the investigation." He walked toward her. "I came straight here. I knew you'd be here."
"How did you know?"
"Because you're always here." He smiled. "You're always waiting."
She walked toward him. They met in the middle of the coffee shop.
"You're back," she whispered.
"I'm back."
"I thought—I thought you'd be in there for years."
"So did I." He reached out and touched her face. "But then I remembered that I had someone worth coming home to."
She started to cry.
"I told you not to wait," he said.
"I know."
"And you waited anyway."
"I always keep my promises."
He laughed. "Yes, you do."
He pulled her into his arms.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too."
"I'm going to be better. I'm going to be the man you deserve."
"You already are."
"No, I'm not. Not yet. But I'm going to try. Every single day."
She looked up at him.
"Okay," she said. "Then I'll be here. Every single day."
---
She walked home with him. Not to her apartment. To the house he'd grown up in.
They sat on the porch. The same porch. The same swing that creaked in the breeze.
"I'm going to sell this house," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I need to leave this town. I need to start over. And I want you to come with me."
She looked at him.
"Where would we go?"
"I don't know. Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere we can be free."
She thought about her siblings. Her family. The life she'd built.
She thought about the man sitting beside her. The man who'd fought for her. The man who'd never stopped trying.
She thought about the promise she'd made.
"Yes," she said. "I'll go with you."
He smiled. It was the same smile. The one that made her heart skip.
"Really?"
"Really."
He kissed her. Soft. Sweet. Full of hope.
And for the first time in months, everything felt right.
- Writer
