Page 73 of Fight or Flight
“Jenny is in labor?” I question as soon as I’m inside the car, and Sandra peels off from the police parking lot.
“Yeah. The timing isn’t the greatest, but that’s life, right?” She says it in a normal tone, not her usual flirty, breathy one, and I give her a sideways glance.
“Sandra, is everything okay?”
“Hmm?” She checks the side mirror before joining the traffic. “I’m fine, Aidan. Just some personal shit I have to deal with. But that’s not why we’re here, right? From what I’ve heard, you’ve been busy breaking parole left and right.”
“So, what happens now? Will you drive me back to prison right away, or do I wait for a judge...” I stop mid-sentence when Sandra starts laughing.
“Drive you back to prison? No way! Why would I ever do that? You’re a good guy, Aidan. I’m so jealous of Claire, to be honest. Well, maybe not with the... you know, the things that happened. But to have a man set aside his future and risk his life to get her back, no matter the consequences? Oh my God, that is a dream come true. An amazing love story.”
She tries to sound like her usual self, but I still detect the pain in her voice when she says it, and for the first time, I actually wonder what makes a person like Sandra the way she is. I always thought she was a crazy nymphomaniac whose kink is fucking criminals. Now, as she’s sitting next to me, underdressed, I realize that it’s probably just an armor she puts on for whatever reason.
“Anyway, the way I see it is you got my permission to leave the state and went to look for your girlfriend who went missing. Then you found her, and the men who were holding her hostage attacked you. Brody shot one of the guards in self-defense, and that’s the end of the story. The rest was dealt with by the police, and now you’re free to go. I’m just here to give you a ride.”
“But Brody didn’t shoot him. I did,” I argue.
“What did you say? I don’t think I heard you properly...” Sandra puts a hand to her ear. “Did you just say he did shoot the guy? Yep. That’s right. He did, and it’s fine. He won’t be prosecuted for that. And neither will you. Your parole officer took care of that.” She sends me a wink and concentrates back on the road.
For a moment, I’m speechless. “Why would you do that for me?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. And because I like to see people get their happily ever after. You’re not the bad guy here, Aidan. Believe me, I encountered plenty of those. And I could never forgive myself if I was the one turning you into one.”
“Wow. Thank you.” I mutter, perplexed. And then have to ask, “Do you know how’s Claire doing?”
“Sorry, but no.” She glances at me and sees my frown. “I’m sure she’s fine, Aidan. She has to be, right? After the shit you went through, she has to be. Your story needs to have a happy ending now. I refuse to believe otherwise.”
Sandra concentrates back on the road, and I concentrate on the view out the window. God, I hope she’s right. As I watch us turning on an interstate, my eyelids get heavier and heavier, and before I know it, I doze off.
––––––––
THE NEXT DAY, I GET a text from Brody stating that they are back home and to stop by.
I have no idea what it means and if that implies that Claire is back home too, but I’m already on my feet and leaving my apartment before I even finish reading the message.
It’s not even fifteen minutes later when I knock at their door and wait impatiently. To my surprise, it’s Brody’s aunt Ruth who opens the door, the kid, Henry, closely behind her.
“Oh, hi!” I exclaim way too loudly and immediately lower my voice. “Um, Brody said to come?”
“Hi, Aidan,” the woman greets me warmly and envelops me in a hug. It’s the second woman giving me a motherly hug in two days, and I have to admit I don’t exactly hate it. “I’m glad to see you safe and sound.”
Still, I quickly step back and look around, searching the place, and right away notice that something is different. It takes me a second to understand what is amiss apart from the person herself. Her things. All gone.
I don’t know what my face showed, but Ruth steps into my line of sight.
“She’s fine, boy. Claire is going to be alright,” her voice is soft, and the smile is in place, but I take notice of the unspoken sadness in her eyes, too.
“Where is she?” I choke out and lift my head when I hear footsteps.
Brody comes down the stairs, looking just as bad as I feel, with dark circles under his tired eyes. His hair is a mess, and his shirt is wrinkled, but there’s one thing that shines through the image, and it’s the smile of an accomplished man with a great family life.
Something that I doubt that I will ever feel on my own face.
His happy expression fades a bit when he notices me, and he tells his aunt to take Henry and leave us to talk.
“How’s Jenny? And the baby?” I ask when I have enough of him staring at me with pity in the now silent room.
“Jen did spectacular. She’s sleeping with the baby upstairs. We have a healthy girl. Her name is Layla.” The pride shines in his eyes, and I wish I could be more expressive when it comes to how happy I am for them because I am.