Chapter 6
The last time I saw Emily was in May last year. She was in town for work and asked me to meet her at that old barbecue joint near the south gate.
She'd downed three beers, her face was as red as a tomato, and she was giggling with her head slumped on the plastic table.
She said, "Alex, do you know I cried the day you got married? I cried the whole night.
"My mom said I was being silly. I guess she's right.
I helped Emily into a cab. She was half-asleep, her hand clinging to my sleeve, fingers gripping tight, and she mumbled something.
I didn't catch it.
Wait, no. I did hear it.
She said, "If things ever get rough, come back."
At the time, I thought she meant going back to my hometown.
But thinking about it now, she was asking me to come back to her.
I rolled over and stared at the little light on the ceiling that never went off. The light was harsh and blinding.
It had been fourteen months and seven days. I never told Emily about what I had done.
But with her personality, maybe she already knew.
No secret ever lasted long in our neighborhood, especially something that hit the news.
I wondered if she'd come to see me.
I wondered if she'd be disappointed.
I wondered if she'd chew me out.
The thought hit me hard, leaving a dull ache in my chest.
I closed my eyes.
I told myself to forget it. I had to survive these three years first. Everything else could wait till then.
*****
On the eleventh day, David showed up.
David was a lawyer I'd known for six years. He was thirty-five, skinny, and always rocking a dark gray suit.
His tie never had more than two colors, and not a hair was ever out of place, just the right amount of gel, so it looked sharp without being greasy or limp.
He talked slow, every word measured out like he was using a ruler, but whenever he spoke, he made people shut up.
I didn't trust many people, but David was one of them.
When he sat down, he pulled three documents out of his briefcase and lined them up neatly in front of the glass partition.
"Brian's injury report is out," David said.
"Go on," I replied.
"Both of his knees are shattered, tibial plateaus crushed, ACL and PCL torn, medial collateral ligament ripped, and the nerve in his right leg is messed up too," David rattled off the details in a flat tone, like he was reciting a menu.
"The official verdict is severe injury, second degree," he added.
"Yeah." I nodded. "I figured as much."
"And as expected," David said, flipping the page. "Richard Coleman got the top orthopedic team in Betrico to take a look. The verdict is: with long-term rehab, Brian might be able to walk with crutches on his left leg.
He shot me a look. "As for the right leg, it's messed up for good."
A faint smile tugged at my lips. "That's a bit better than I expected."
"A bit better?" David raised an eyebrow.
"Honestly, I thought both his legs were shot. The fact that he can still hobble around on crutches means he's luckier than he deserves," I said.
David was quiet for a couple seconds, then pushed his glasses up. He was probably used to me talking like this.
"Let's get down to business," David said, tapping the second document. "Richard's furious. He's filed a complaint with the prosecutor's office, demanding the harshest possible sentence for intentional injury causing severe harm. Plus, he's suing for civil compensation."
"How much?" I asked.
"He's asking for 6 million dollars," David replied.
I laughed, not out of mockery, but with a sense of release, like finally seeing my opponent lay their cards on the table.
"David, did you put out the word about the letter of forgiveness?" I asked.
"I did," David said, meticulous as always. "I had an intermediary put out feelers to the Coleman family's lawyers. If Brian's willing to sign a letter of forgiveness in the criminal case, my client is willing to offer reasonable compensation."
"What was their reaction?" I asked.
David said, "Richard's words were, 'Make Alex Rivers pay with his life.'"
"Alright." I leaned back in my chair. "Just him blowing off steam. Give it some time."