Luke is nervous, I can see it in his eyes.
Don’t worry, I say as he comes into the meeting room. I’m not going to stab you.
Melany doesn’t translate this. My lawyer is sitting in a corner, making notes, not saying anything, just showing everyone she’s there. Showing Luke she’s there, mainly, I guess.
It’s weird seeing Luke here, under the fluorescent lights of the federal building. He looks drawn, gray, like he hasn’t slept in forever. His hand hangs by his side, in its white bandage. He can’t seem to meet my eye.
Hello, Luke, I say.
Melany translates this time.
Hello, he says. How are you feeling?
I blink. Great, I say. My mom is not my real mom. I’m some other person from who I thought I was. It’s fantastic.
Melany signs quickly.
I’m sorry, says Luke.
Don’t be, I say. Look at your hand. At least I stopped you getting killed with a rock. And it’s a good thing you don’t drink—otherwise you’d have had a massive overdose of codeine.
Melany lowers her eyebrows at me, like, what? I shake my head—forget it.
How’s the hand? I say, and Melany puts it onto the air as vibrations, and into Luke’s ears.
Not too bad, says Luke. Missed the artery. Some nerve damage, but could be worse.
I nod. I’m glad.
So…, he says. So, I wanted to let you know about something.
Okay, I say.
He doesn’t know how to begin. He sits down, and I don’t, and that just makes him more uncomfortable. He takes a deep breath, as if he’s going to have to dive deep down inside himself to bring up his next words; like pearls. See, here’s the thing, he says. The media want the story on you. My two days in the desert with—well, you know. But I don’t want to tell. I … I want you to have a life again, and I don’t see how you could, after all this, if people knew who you were. I mean … He looks over at Carla. You’re her lawyer, right?
Yes, says Carla, or at least I guess she does, I’m not looking at her.
So you’ll want to get some kind of anonymity for her? I mean, there’s been no photos of … Shelby, in the news.
We want to protect her, yes, says Carla slowly. I am looking at her now.
She might get a new name, a new identity? I mean, if and when she’s not living with her birth parents.
Ye-e-e-e-es, says Carla. She might. Her tone is like: Where are you going with this?
So, says Luke, and I see for the first time that he is very far from stupid. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That I wouldn’t blow it. I won’t, you know, say that you’re deaf or anything. I mean, that could really screw your cover.
Uh … thank you, I say.
You should see what they’ve offered me, he says. We’re talking hundreds of thousands. But you’re just a girl. You deserve a new life.
My mind is like this now, not blank, but like static, a de-tuned TV:
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I don’t know what to think about any of this. I hadn’t even considered the idea of a new identity, I mean I knew I’d be living with my real mom and dad for a month, but wouldn’t their names be public knowledge? Or maybe Luke is thinking of when I leave their house, when I’m eighteen … Shit, I think, he really is smart. I didn’t consider ANY of this.
Carla, it seems, has though.
I see, she says. You have been offered a lot. So how much do you want from Shelby to keep her story to yourself? To not reveal details, like her deafness? Here’s one thing I like about my lawyer: she doesn’t put ellipses of hesitation before my name, like she’s not sure if she should say it, because it’s not my real name anymore.
Luke looks appalled. He smacks the table with his bandaged hand, then curses. His face goes a little purple. NO, he says. NO. He turns to me. I just wanted to tell you, in person, that I would not speak of you. For any money. And that I’m sorry for what has happened to you.
Suddenly, without warning, I am crying; the tears are hot in my eyes, burning.
Thank you, I say. Thank you. And then I think of how I kept thinking he was a douche, how I laughed at him inside my own head, at his awful stories, his weight, his lazy half-blind eye, which even now is looking at me milkily, sadly. Guilt is a twisting kitten inside me. I’m so sorry, I say, and this time I say it with my mouth. I’m so so sorry.
It’s not your fault, says Luke, totally missing my point. You didn’t know who she was.
No, I think. No, I didn’t.
Luke levers himself up from the table. Well, that was all I wanted to say, he says. Thank you for your time.
Thank you, Luke, I say, again with my mouth. He’s been so kind, it is making me cry all over again, and he seems to sense it’s too much for me, because he opens the door and leaves.
Well, says Carla. That was an interesting first.
What?
Someone who doesn’t want money. I don’t think I’ve met one before.
I smile through my tears. You’re a lawyer. You wouldn’t.
She smiles back. Okay, she says. I think that’s it for this morning. I’ve asked for the meeting with your parents to be put back by a couple of hours. Give you a chance to rest.
Thanks, I say.
Anything you want in the meantime? she asks.
I shake my head and she starts toward the door.
No, wait, I say, out loud, which is becoming a habit.
Yes? she says.
There is something I want, I say. Something of mine.
Right, says my lawyer. That should be doable.
Where is it?
It was in the cabin, I say. Plugged into the wall.
The FBI took some things into evidence that they’re still analyzing, she says. Luke’s car, stuff like that. But it’s your cell, and you haven’t committed a crime. I’ll have it returned to you. Anything else?
No, I say. I mean, my baseball bat is there too, but that doesn’t seem important now.
Wait, I say. There is something.
Yes?
I want a pack of cigarettes. And a lighter.
What brand?
It doesn’t matter.
She looks at me, a little surprised; maybe I look really clean cut or something. Straight edge. You smoke?
No, I say. But I’m thinking of starting.