* * *

When the fateful day arrived, I think it must have been a Saturday, the May sky was blue with a radiant glow and the daffodils were dancing. Marti picked me up at half past two and we drove to the other side of town together. I noticed Marti’s hands were wet and slid all over the wheel every time she turned. I spun the volume wheel until the radio was loud enough to make dogs bark. Somehow Taylor Swift’s dramatic relationship rantings made the flow of conversation easier. I hummed along to the annoying tune and talked school nonsense.

  “Did you finish the story assignment for creative writing?”

Marti shook her head. Her eyes were on the road, but her mind was somewhere so far away that I couldn’t follow. I kept a lookout for traffic and potential road hazards, but we seemed to be the only car on the road. Literally on the other side of the tracks, the road was full of potholes.

  “Did you?”

I jumped. It had been a full five minutes since I’d asked the question and I’d given up waiting for an answer.

  “Oh. No. I started it. But I think I’m going to start over, ‘cause I have a better idea.”

  “Cool. What’s it about?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. Two friends maybe. I want it to be a happy story. Everybody’s been writing sad things lately and I feel like being different.” I smiled, reflecting on my idea. “What are you going to write about?”

  Marti motioned to the sheet of paper in my hand. According to Google Maps’ directions we were only a block away.

  “I think maybe I’ll write about something silly. Like a story about me and Leroy. You know, a girl and her puppy having adventures.” I tried not to sigh. Lately Marti’d been slacking on her creativity. But stress does that.

 “Sounds fun. Take the next right.” I directed, feeling my pulse like a war drum in my wrists.

  “Ok.” She spun the car around and slammed on the breaks. A cat was strolling complacently across the street. It looked scrawny and starved. And mean. I swallowed. In the yard of the house adjacent to us three really dirty and wild looking kids played with a hose. They stared at us as we passed.

Living in a neighborhood like this could make a person crazy. I thought.

 “Which one is it?” Marti asked.

 “13088. 14B. There.”

 We spied the number on a small gray house and Marti eased the Honda up to the curb.

 “Well here we are.” I said way too cheerfully. “You ready?” Again, she nodded breathlessly. “Well ok then.” I clambered out of the deep seat and slammed the door. The sound shattered the air, and made my heart skip a beat. We walked up the steps, me in the lead and Marti trailing behind. I rang the bell.

 

After that, a cloud of calm settled in around me and we waited.

* * *

“Are you sure you want to?” I asked Marti three weeks later. We hadn’t talked at all during the past twenty-one days, except for casual conversations at school about homework and graduation projects and can you believe Brandon and Amy are actually dating.

   It was funny. Miraculously, I somehow felt comfortable waiting around for Marti to speak.

 I didn’t worry, which was unusual for me. I knew she wasn’t avoiding me exactly. Just, when you tell someone everything     every deep little puckering worry that nags at you each night, every bloodthirsty wish, every haunting thought and desperate prayer      there is always a fear in the back of your mind: what if they tell?

  She’d known me forever. But it was the first time she’d truly trusted me, you know, as an older kid. We were eighteen now, adults technically, and she had trusted me with a big girl problem for the first time ever. It had to be a little scary for her. Heck, it was a little scary for me.

However, I was proud of myself. I’d been a little unsure whether or not to tattle to my mommy, but when I really thought and prayed about it, I realized that this was probably a natural way for Marti to act. Someone important had been robbed from her, so of course she wanted to know a little bit more about the robber. I kept my mouth shut. And I felt warm inside, confident suddenly for the first time in my life. I felt different. Fuller somehow. I was secure in my own abilities as a good friend.

 I had kept Marti’s secret, and I would reap the rewards for many years.

 That morning I could tell as soon as I saw Marti that it would be the morning I’d been waiting for. It was etched in her eyebrows that something was on her mind, and so when she said it, I wasn’t surprised.

  “I think I’m going to go visit.” That was all she said, and her voice sounded like a matronly housewife stating that she was going to buy ham for dinner instead of turkey.

  “Are you sure you want to?” I asked, also a little flatly.

  “Yes.”

  There was an awkward pause, a rare occurrence between me and my best friend.

 “Do you want me to go with you?” I queried. I was hesitant. Was it my place?

Marti stared at the ground and then nodded.

  “I think so, if you wouldn’t mind?”

I nodded too. I didn’t mind.

* * *

  “Hi, I’m calling to see if a Miss Shelly Price still lives in your complex?” I must be out of my mind!  I thought, even as I said the words into the phone.

  A muffled noise came from the other end of the line and the woman spoke thickly, “Just a minute.” I took the opportunity to glare at Marti and heave a shaky breath. I hate talking on the phone to strangers, period, but I think anyone will agree that this was probably the most nerve-wracking call I’d ever made or ever would make. Marti had asked me to do it, and for some crazy reason I’d said yes. I’d like to think it was because she was my best friend and I wanted to help her out in spite of my good, logical, nerdy sense. But in the back of my mind, I know it was because I was getting too curious for my own good, just like Marti. I wanted to know too. Who was Shelly Price, and what had her life been since Aunt Grace’s death?

  “I really appreciate this Meg.”Marti said seriously. My only reply was a grimace. The lady was back.

  “Miss Price? Yeah she’s in 14B. You want me to connect you?”

Marti shook her head violently.

  “No thank you.” I responded. There was silence, and somehow I couldn’t hang up. I could tell the lady was expecting an explanation. “I’m an old friend.” I added lamely. Oh crap, what the heck did I just do?

  “Do you want me to tell her you’re stopping by or something?” The woman slurred from the other side of the tracks. I could almost smell cigarette smoke through my receiver.

 “No thanks. You’ve been a big help. Thanks!” I slammed my thumb against my “End Call” button, thanking God that was over. Shelly Price was still alive in the world. She was living in a nasty apartment which obviously wasn’t too inconspicuous since two teenage girls with a phonebook had been able to track it down. She was still “Miss.” She was somewhere within reach. “There. That’s done.” I stated flatly, feeling like a pricked balloon that was getting pumped up again.

“Thanks, Meg. I owe you one.” Marti smiled. “Ok, I owe you a few.”

 “No problem.” I prayed that would be the end of my part in it.

But I knew it wouldn’t be.

* * *

Marti turned her face away, starring with that wistful grace only she possessed, out my window. Her profile was silver in the morning light. I waited. It was one of those times when words are too stiff to let loose. The moment is too young and frail and timid and light and new. If you throw words into it, it will shatter like glass, destroyed forever. So I waited. Marti’s eyes changed again, and the moment was over, escaped into history. I blinked.

  “Did you find out?”

She smiled, dreamlike and sad as a weeping willow bough.

  “No. I never got the chance. I figured the people probably wouldn’t tell me anything, so I was poking around the guy’s office,” She ignored my horrified face. “And I found some file stuff and figured out how to get in to the store room or whatever where they keep the old crap. But while I was in there, this guy walked in and caught me, so I had to say that I was lost and looking for the visitor room.”

 “That place with the phones and the glass wall that they always show on tv?” I barked breathlessly.

  “Yeah that place. So he took me in there and told me to wait while he looked up the phony name I gave him---“

  “What name did you give him?”

She grinned sheepishly. “Margaret Corey.”

  “Really? Really, Marti? You’re off on a penitentiary snoop and you tell them you’re there to visit me? Thanks. ‘Preciate it.” I rolled my eyes. She smiled again, with a bit more ease this time, and I could feel the atmosphere in my room relax and breathe a little bit smoother. “Well go on.” I commanded. “I’m anxious to hear how something as innocent as poking around a prison could turn so ugly.” This with another eye roll. Marti laughed outright and gave my knee a gentle shove.

  “Ok so somehow I was sitting there waiting, and I guess I heard that one guy, the one in the plaid, talking to the dude who chased us last night. His name’s Bently, somebody, and he was getting bailed out while I was there. I guess they were saying something about their next job that I kind of overheard.”

My mouth dropped again.

  “What?!”

  “Yeah so I ended up getting out of there fast, with them on my tail. I thought I lost them though. Anyways, I ended up getting stranded at this Shell station since I ran out of gas trying to outrun the plaid shirt guy. That’s where I met     “She stopped abruptly. “Well, his name’s Jason. He’s the guy who picked me up at the beach. He wanted to make sure I was ok. Again, I’m sorry about that Meg, I didn’t mean for you to get stranded or anything.” Raking a hand through her hair, Marti sighed deeply. “And that’s pretty much it I guess.”

 

Pretty much it? Yeah, sure. I don’t think so Marti.

I knew her better than that, and now I knew what she was trying to do. I couldn’t believe that she would give it up so easily.

  “How are you going to find out then?”

  “Find out what?” Her innocent gaze couldn’t fool me. I’d seen the same look the day she got caught for popping the pool.

“Who he is?” I said calmly.

 Marti said nothing. She held out her iphone. On the screen was a photo. A photo of a document. A document with the name Shelly Price on it.

  “Jason sent this just this morning. He is a she I guess. Her name’s Shelly Price.”

For Jared

I can't find the words to say
Only this ever growing ache
A fear I thought was gone
Came alive as you died
Shock and horror
At the irony of everything my stupid mouth was saying
My tears of "oh so painful agony"
Caused by little pebble problems
They all fall away
As I hear the news
And I can remember you
So young
So strong so full of live and love and jokes and your beautiful smile
And you're gone
And you're gone
I had so many chances, every day I thought I had to tell you the truth
Its too late
I can't breathe
I can't breathe

* * *

Marti sipped her coffee and took a deep breath.

  “Well?” I said, my eyes bugging out in a very control-freak-plus-no-sleep way.

Marti, also running on no sleep, twisted up her face and snapped, “I’m getting to it!”

I crossed my arms and legs and sat back.

  “The suspense is killing me.” I said it dryly, but in truth I meant it. I was itching for answers.

  “Ok, ok. So I went up to Dad’s but you remember he had a bad bout of vertigo over thanksgiving that he was still kinda dealing with right?” Yes I remembered.

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Well, he had a bad day, kind of a relapse, and he needed to rest and take it easy for a while. But he had some work related stuff that he needed to do. I can’t really say what it was about, but he asked me if I could run some files over to this guy at the county office. Some government doodad no doubt. I didn’t read it or anything, but…” She trailed off seeing my face. “Oh calm down dopey! I’m not wanted for unveiling some government conspiracy! So put your eyebrows back on your face and let me finish.” I complied, chugging some more mocha blend. “So anyways, I was down at the county office and, don’t ask me why, I sort of wandered into the prison.”

  “What the heck?” I was almost on my feet. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Marti’s gaze swept my carpet like a vacuum cleaner. She was avoiding my eyes, just as she was avoiding the truth. “Yes I do.” She looked up at me, her eyes suddenly full of fear and a strange helplessness I’d never detected in them before. “I’ve always wondered who he was. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s morbid and sick, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve always wanted to know his story. Who he was before. How he lived. What lead him there that night. More than that, as awful as it sounds, I’ve wanted to know how he paid, Meg.”

 The thing about best friends is there are times when you can somehow know exactly what the other person is talking about, without any rational clues.

Marti’s face was wild now, and I felt as if we’d been transported into some unreal place or mystical realm. In spite of her bathrobe and unbrushed hair, she looked like a regal queen, tall and majestic, whose soul was tortured by some agonizing pain: a pain that had settled somewhere deep inside, festering and growing until it had finally sprung back into the reachable trenches of her mind.

I shivered.

Who was he?

I knew.

He was the man who killed her mother.

Sweet surrender
Music trills and spills and winds up and out
Through my heart I feel you
Silk scarf, fluttering, flying through the Summer breeze
Wind gone cold with Autumn's call
But the rushing air so wild beckons me draw up away
I run,
I leap,
I fly away with the gulls out to the sea
A sea of gold
On shining glass
The distant shores cry out to me
Come closer!
Rest
You are safe at long, long last