One Last Move

I’d imagined her living on a different kind of street, in a different kind of neighborhood.

“Watch yourself, Billy-boy. Act normal. That’ll work. You remember how to do that? You make a move on her too fast, you’ll find yourself back in here.” Jance had said those words looking through the bars of his own cage, watching as the guards unlocked my cell and let me out of mine. I glanced back just once and caught the sadness in his eyes. He’d have hated to know I saw that.

Before they shut the gate behind me, they’d handed me a small duffel bag that contained all my worldly goods from five years before. I was wearing the jeans and sweatshirt I’d arrived in, all too aware they’d never been washed since.

First thing I did once I’d got off the bus they put me on was get a room at the local hotel, a two-story dilapidated building with a sign out front claiming it was haunted. I wouldn’t be surprised. It looked like it ought to be razed for its own protection. Each to their own.

I set out to find her place. Even the limited Internet access they gave me for good behavior at the prison was enough to find her last known address. It was easy. But I didn’t look up anyone else. I hadn’t wanted to betray the trust the authorities had placed in me.

The house she lived in was on Kell Street on the other side of town. I had fifty dollars in my pocket, courtesy of the state. A cab would eat away at that, but the bus would take over an hour with all its stops. The hotel manager said I could use a bike they had in the shed, for five dollars. That seemed a bargain till I saw the thing, but at least the wheels turned and the brakes worked. It got me where I was going just fine. I left the bike in a nearby alley, behind a discarded stove. The sky was threatening rain. I hoped it’d hold off till I got back to the hotel.

“Who are you?”

I was walking up the steps leading to the front door. The man standing in front of the door was wearing the outfit of a London bobby, which made no sense.

“You look like some escaped prisoner. Clever. We should go in together—I could say I captured you.” He doubled over, laughing harder than the joke deserved. I thought quickly. Some kind of costume party or masquerade must be going on somewhere inside. This man was my ticket.

“I forgot my invitation,” I said, digging my hands into my pockets.

“Did you now? That’s what they all say.” He started laughing again, but opened the door. “Janine’s my girlfriend. I’ll tell her to make an exception for you, given how I like your sense of humor.”

As soon as I walked in I heard music coming from every floor, a mishmash of heavy metal, Beyonce singing, and close at hand, the theme from the old movie “The Fugitive.”

“Hey, hear that? They’re playing your song.” He looked like he was going to burst into hysterics again.

“I’m Janine’s former boyfriend,” I said. “Bill.”

That stopped him. “I thought you were in prison.” He was dead sober now, British cop and all.

“Oh, yes, I was. For five years. I was released on good behavior. I just want to say hi to her, for old time’s sake.”

The man looked right and left and up the stairs. We were the only ones in the foyer. I could see the rain had started after all. I could hear it hitting the outside door in driving gusts.

“I’m not here to give her a hard time. Like I said, I just want to say hi. My plan is to move on.” I detected the slightest relaxation in him, which was a good sign.

“Let me go up and tell her you’re here. It’s her choice to see you or not, you know?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “That’ll work.”

He took the stairs slowly, weighted down with all the gear he was wearing. At the top he looked back down at me as I was leaning against the door, and then turned left.

I skipped up the stairs after him and leaned out just far enough to see him knocking at a door halfway down the corridor. When it opened, Beyonce’s voice got louder. As he leaned in to say something I knew what would happen next, and before the door could shut I was already standing in front of it, making sure to give a normal smile, like Jance had said.

“Hey, Janine. It’s me, Billy.”

To her credit she didn’t scream or shriek, or my guess was the men and women in the room with her would have come to her rescue. I wasn’t carrying, I wasn’t planning to attack her, I wasn’t planning to do anything but say hello. And let her know I was out at last. I could live with having her knowing that. It was enough. I knew she’d spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, while I got on with mine. New Mexico had always appealed to me. I’d looked it up a lot online the last year. Wide spaces and those massive cliffs. It made me think of what things must have been like before humans showed up, something primitive and wild and at the same time, belonging to itself, intact. Real. Safe. Free.

“I didn’t mean to leave you alone to face them, Billy. I was just so scared, you know?”

“Me, too. A lot scared.” The room had gone silent. Someone had shut off the music.

“Maybe you should move on now, pal.” Her boyfriend hovered near her.

“It’s all gone, now Billy. The money. I used it up. I’m sorry.”

“Going through two million takes work, Janine. You left me to rot. It wasn’t a nice thing to do.” I felt her boyfriend stiffen his stance, on guard. She looked quickly at him and then back at me.

“I don’t want any trouble. I’m glad you got out, but I don’t want any trouble. They said you’d be in for twenty years.”

“I was a model prisoner. I made sure of that. I was so keen to see you again.”

“Billy—”

“No worries. Just wanted drop by. You take care, Janine. Who knows, maybe I’ll see you again once in a while.” Like never, I said to myself.

Her face went pale. The others in the room and the boyfriend were getting more restless.

“Glad I got the chance to say hi.” I turned toward the stairs. When I reached them, I looked back. She was staring after me. She was scared.

Good enough, I told myself. That’ll work.

A bus ticket from where I was to New Mexico was forty-five dollars. I’d move on and see what the rest of my life had to offer.

End