Then There Was You(38)

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I said, “Okay, Ma. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she sobbed, unable to restrain the tears anymore. “Here’s Mitch.”

“Okay.” I heard muffled sounds as the phone was being passed to my brother.

“Hey Chris,” Mitch said. His cheerful voice did wonders for the ache in my chest.

“’Sup baby brother?”

“I’m not a baby,” he griped. He hated when I babied him.

“I know,” I laughed, “but you’ll always be my baby brother no matter how old you get. How’s school? Got a girlfriend?”

“Ew, no. Shut up.” His instant, appalled reaction had me chuckling. He was ten. I remembered being ten. Girls were the last thing on my mind, too.

He chattered on. “I got an award in art. The teacher picked my drawing to go to the county art fair.”

“Really? That’s great, Mitch. You have some real talent, bro,” I said, pacing back and forth in the three-foot span of the telephone cord. We both got our artistic side from our dad. Made me proud that we had that connection.

He giggled. “Oh yeah, I saw that girl.”

“What girl?” I asked, stopping dead in my tracks.

Suddenly aware that this was no laughing matter, he said carefully, “That girl that came over right before you left.”

I almost felt my heart rip through my chest. “Kaitlyn? Where? Did you talk to her?”

“Uh… no,” he paused as if he thought he’d made a mistake in telling me.

“And? You gotta give me something, Mitch. Anything.” I demanded, reaching out to the wall for support.

I could feel his hesitation, almost as if it were a living breathing thing traveling through the line, and instantly I wanted to punch something. “Uh… she was with some guy. She was holding his hand. They looked like they were in love.”

In love. Those two words sucker-punched me. Fuck no. She was not in-fucking-love with someone else. No fucking way.

The moments all came rushing back to me—when I first saw her by the gymnasium, when I sang to her in class, when I danced with her under the moonlight, and when I held my hand to the glass professing my love for her as she drove away.

“Who, Mitch?” I ground out. “Who was she with?” If it was Trevor I’ll fucking kill him.

“I don’t know,” he swore, talking fast to calm me down. “Not that football player though. He was tall. A lot taller. And skinny.”

The realization hit me like a tsunami. A wall of heartbreak slammed into me, knocking the wind out of me, sucking me under. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. Oh god, she moved on. She fucking moved on!

My heart splintered into a million pieces and I fell to my knees, letting go of the receiver. It dangled below the pay phone, spinning and bouncing on its long metal cord.

“Chris? Chris?” I heard my brother calling through the speaker.

I managed to compose myself long enough to tell him I loved him and to say goodbye, but the moment I heard the click, I fucking lost it.





I was standing at the sink washing dishes when I got the call. Quickly wiping my hands on a dish towel, I grabbed the phone on the third ring.

“Salem?” Officer Blevin’s panic-stricken voice boomed through the phone.

“Yes sir?” I asked, wondering why he would be calling my home so late in the evening.

“Salem, I need you to come quick! Come back to Fairbanks… it’s Chris… we can’t get him to calm down. We have him in segregation. How soon can you be here?”

I was slipping on my shoes that were lying by the back door as he spoke. “Fifteen minutes, Barry. Give me fifteen minutes.” I sure hoped the cops weren’t staked out tonight.

I hung up the phone and raced to the foyer to grab my keys out of the glass bowl on the lamp table. “I’ve gotta go back to work, Graham,” I called into the living room.

Graham looked up from his laptop. Surprised, he asked, “What? Why?”

“One of my cases needs me.” I didn’t have time for explanations.

Grimacing, his annoyance was clear. With furrowed eyebrows, he grumbled, “Whatever. What should I do with Alexis?”

I glared at him. I wanted to scream. Are you fucking kidding me? Completely exasperated, I barked, “You’re her father. You figure it out.” Slinging my purse on my shoulder, I snatched my jacket off the hook and opened the door. “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” I snapped.

Rolling his eyes, he huffed, “Try not to be too long.”

I slammed the door behind me, practically sprinting to my car.





I could hear the guttural roar of Chris’s voice the moment I stepped into the segregation ward.