45

The phone vibrating on my nightstand woke me up. Kalvin. All he texted was for me to start walking east on Grand by eleven a.m. He’d text the location then. He added: Happy New Year!

I hated mystery. It sounded like a setup but what could I do? I had to get this over with.

I thought I’d woken up before everyone, but when I peeked into the living room, the couch was empty. But Dad’s briefcase was still on the coffee table and he never left without it.

I heard a strange noise coming from behind Mom’s door. I pressed my ear to it and listened in.

Dad was snoring.

Whoa. Last night was crazy, but I guess I missed the real party. I know it happens—they always got sappy and sentimental on New Year’s Eve. Still, I didn’t want to visualize it. It probably didn’t mean anything.

I kept staring at Dad’s briefcase. It was the first time I’d seen it without him around. If I was going to do what Kalvin wanted, I’d need some protection. I kneeled in front of the briefcase, listening to Dad’s snores. I knew the combo: 9/6/98. My birthday.

I cracked the briefcase open, trying not to make any sound. And there it was—Dad’s gun.

It had been a long time since I’d held it, back when he took me those few times to a shooting range before Mom put a stop to it.

It was cold to the touch. Heavy, like it meant business. Dad kept it clean. It looked new even though it was at least ten years old.

I played with the safety, made sure it was on (first rule). I popped the cylinder and checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded. There was one bullet.

Then I remembered Dad’s bail bondsman motto: one bullet forces you to make a real choice—and to choose wisely.

There were no extra rounds in the briefcase.

That was a stupid motto. What if I had to use this and missed?

I tried tucking it into my pants, but it felt like it’d fall out. They made it look easy in the movies, but this wasn’t working. Finally, I just threw on my hoodie and hid it in my jacket pocket. I checked myself out in the mirror to see if it was noticeable. I was surprised to see I didn’t look scared.

I put a Post-it in Dad’s briefcase. It just said, “Sorry.” Anything more would only make it worse. I locked the case, grabbed a bagel, and headed out into the cold morning.

I moved uneasily down the icy street. Some people were out scraping off their windshields, others huddling at the bus stop with their shopping bags. To them it was just a normal Saturday.

Destiny answered my call on the fifth ring. She had been asleep. “It’s Saturday. Do you know what time it is? That’s why we text.”

“Sorry. I said I’d call, so I’m calling.”

She remembered. “What’s going on? It’s too early for this shit.”

“It’s not that early. I think the library’s open.”

“Fuck the library,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

“Destiny?”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say . . . well, I guess, thanks.”

There was a long pause. “What the fuck for?”

I laughed. “For being my friend. In the beginning. You know, when nobody else would.”

She grunted. “You coulda told me that later. Like at dinner. When we’d laughing about how nothing happened today.”

“I had to tell you now. Just in case. . . .”

“In case . . . what? What’s going on?”

“I made a deal, that’s all. And now I gotta do something. Alone.”

“See? I knew you’d pull this shit. When people say things like that, bad things happen.” She sounded awake now.

“You watch too many movies,” I said. “Besides, you got me in and out of enough trouble. I have to do this on my own.”

Now she knew she wasn’t going to win this argument.

“Erica. Just don’t do anything stupid.” She sounded worried. “OK?”

“Too late.” I didn’t want to get into it. “I gotta go, ’bye.”

“But—”

I hung up. Turned my ringer off. She tried calling again, but I ignored her.

I headed down Grand and started to feel bad that all I left my parents was that stupid Post-it.

I opened a new text message on my phone.

Mom Dad.

Im sorry I failed u. I know u tried. At least I didnt do drugs right?

Lame.

I switched over to the voice recorder mode and pressed Record.

It took me a few seconds to figure out what to say. Something like this isn’t like leaving a message saying that you’re going out to dinner. So I just began talking.

“OK . . . by now you noticed that I . . . took the gun. It’s for protection . . . just in case. I’m going to meet Kalvin and hopefully settle this so we can . . . get on with our lives. I decided even if we leave St. Louis, I don’t want this hanging over our heads. It ends today.” I paused it, trying to think where I was going with this.

“If something goes wrong, or if I end up in jail or the hospital or worse . . . just know that . . . I’m sorry for how things turned out . . . and that I wanted to do better. I wanted to do better by you, but even more by me.” I paused to gather myself.

“For a long time . . . I just felt numb inside. Now I can feel pain. I know I am alive. I want to keep it that way. If you are listening to this, it means the police gave it to you. I’m not gonna send it to you because then you’ll panic and be searching the streets. If you never hear this message, then things worked out, but just in case . . . I’ll say it: I love you. Yeah. Really.”

I wiped away a tear, then laughed that I was doing this. “If I’m reincarnated as something else, I will do better with my life. I know you tried, so now I will too. I can’t stop talking for some reason, so I just will. Stop.”

I saved it and kept the recorder mode open on my phone as I buried it in my pocket. I hoped nobody would ever have to hear it.

It started to snow again.