Page 95 of The Perfect Marriage

“Adam,” I sigh out to him, “why even bring that up? It won’t do you any good.”

“You were never curious enough to look back into it? To try and save me?” His voice begins to rise in tandem with his eyebrows.

“Of course, and I have, but there was never any new evidence—there was no way to get the case reopened. You know that. I went over that with you six months after the trial ended.” I squeeze his hand for the second time.

He lowers his head feeling defeated all over again. Did he really think I’d spring in here with new evidence and he’d magically get released at the eleventh hour? That kind of thing only happens in the movies. It doesn’t happen in real life. After a few awkward moments of him staring at the table, he lifts his head back up and looks at me. I squeeze his hand for the third time. He squeezes back. I wish he’d stop that.

“What about that third set of DNA?” There’s a small air of excitement in his voice.

“What about it?”

“Do you know who it belonged to?”

“Adam, we went over it. There wasn’t enough evidence to bring it into court.” I sigh.

His face scrunches up, anger setting into his eyes—the wild beast is returning. He takes a deep breath, smoothing out his face again. He’s finally coming to terms with it all. I squeeze his hand a fourth time. This time he doesn’t squeeze back. Instead, he gives me an odd look.

“Listen, I didn’t come here to rehash the case. I came here to say goodbye and to tell you that I love you.” I loved him at one point, so it’s not hard for me to mimic saying those words to him, even if they’re not true anymore.

He drops his head and whispers under his breath, “I love you too, Sarah.” Silent tears begin to stream down his face.

I squeeze his hand a fifth time.

63

Adam Morgan

Sarah came to see me today. I’ve wanted to see her for so long, I’ve lost count of how many years it’s been. And now here she finally is, right in front of me, and it feels… bittersweet. She doesn’t seem to be herself, at least not the Sarah I remember. She is cold and disinterested. And for some reason, she keeps squeezing my hand in a way that doesn’t convey love or affection but rather, something else. At first, I thought it was for comfort, whether for her or me, I wasn’t sure. But the timing of the squeezes is off. No, actually the timing of them is perfect, right down to the second. One every single minute. Why is she doing that? I know this isn’t an easy day, I should fucking know more than anyone, but… it doesn’t seem to be affecting her, at all.

She looks beautiful today. It’s almost painful to take in, given the circumstances. Her hair hangs freely down to her shoulders, and her lips and nails are painted a bright red. She’s dressed in all white, like an angel, but it hardly seems appropriate the more that I think about it. I choke up thinking about her and me together and all the time that we lost. The fact is that once she walks out this door, I will never see her again. I’ve tried not thinking about it all these years. Sure, I knew this day would have to come eventually, but it’s not something you want to dwell on. Lethal injection for a crime I did not commit. That last part is what stings the most.

No further evidence was ever found in my case, so my fate has remained unchanged. It was the perfect crime and the perfect set-up by whoever did this. I gave up hope a long time ago, yet for some reason, I thought on this day, maybe by some miracle, Sarah would walk in with a bombshell discovery to blow the lid off whatever conspiracy was sealing me in; my knight in shining armor here to save me. Her outfit certainly matched the part.

I know now that won’t be happening for me. My life is already over, I’m just on borrowed time, walking dead through these halls. Perhaps in the afterlife, if there even is one, I’ll learn the truth of what happened to Kelly Summers and finally have some peace about all of this. But probably not.

She squeezes my hand again. It’s the sixth time. I’ve been counting.

“So, did you move on?” I finally work up the courage to ask.

“I don’t think anyone ever truly moves on from something like this, Adam.”

She’s been answering with these vague “non-answers” the whole time she’s been here. Not letting me back in for even a second. Her defense systems are fully activated.

“Do you think things could have been different for us?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Like if the trial turned out differently. If they found the real killer. Would we have had a chance?” I try to contain the desperation in even asking the question.

“I’d like to think so.” Her eyes lock with mine as she tilts her head and begins batting her eyes, it almost seems… forced. Like she’s saying what I want to hear, but why? I really don’t know, but that’s the one thing about Sarah, she’s always thinking, calculating. There’s never not an ulterior motive, another angle to the play. She’s always in control… of everything.

“I’d like to think so too. I think we’d have been happy. I think we’d have finally started a family of our own.” There’s hope in my eyes, but there’s none in hers.

She smiles and squeezes my hand for the seventh time. “Do you regret what you did?”

“What do you mean?” My head perks back up from the table as my eyes squint to brace from the angle of this question. I have all types of regrets. Which one is she trying to pull out of me?

“Sleeping with Kelly? Cheating on me? Giving up on us?” Her eyes narrow and she leans further away from me.

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