Page 97 of Beach Bodies

‘Why?’ This time, Daniel speaks it out loud, but I’m already past him, now craning my neck back to look at him. He’s holding up his phone. I can see the recording counting out the seconds, and a strange part of me can’t wait to hear how he weaves this all together in his new finale. ‘Why?’ he cries out above the turmoil, doctors shouting, nurses running, cops shoving.

‘When you really love someone—’ I say, still craning, pulling against the cops’ pushing.

‘Move forward, ma’am,’ says one of the officers, but I twist with all my might, nearly shouting the last part down the hall.

‘Sometimes you have to let them go.’

Then, the most surprising thing happens, like sunshine breaking over me.

I smile.

I’ve worn a lot of smiles over the past years. Calculating smiles, sly smiles, smiles meant to tease, infuriate or appease. But this one–thissmile on my lips– springs forth as natural as a growing thing, a tender shoot from the soil of my grief. Like a blessing. Like freedom.

Like life from death.

Epilogue

Three Years Later

There’s a groaning sound as the doors slide open. The officers on either side of me seem bored. This is just another day for them.

The sun slices in. The parking lot shimmers before me, like it’s still deciding whether or not to materialize. It’s summer, and the late-morning air has a humid scent that promises full-on mugginess later on.

My friend Nate is picking me up– the first of our friendship group to find Daniel’s podcast all those years ago. Somehow, this makes him a fitting bookend to my time here. A four-hour drive from Cincinnati to the state penitentiary in Youngstown was a big ask, but hey– you only get picked up from prison once. Right?

I’m in the same leggings and T-shirt they booked me in, minus the scrubs. They hang a little loose; I’ve lost some weight. Not on purpose; prison food sucks. I’ve been dreaming of a nice, thick butter burger drenched in cheddar. Poké bowls piled high with fresh fish. Fried pickles.

R&D this morning– Receiving and Discharge– took almost three hours. So much paperwork. So much waiting while it was processed. Thankfully, I’ve got really good atwaiting– even better than I already was, if I may be so bold, and I dare say I’ve earned that right. Finally, I got my clothes to change into. They released the money I’ve made working– laundry and kitchen, mainly, and the occasional bathroom duty– and finally returned my purse, wallet and ID.

The doors are open. I could look behind me, say something sarcastic to the officers like,Have a nice life, but I don’t.

I walk forward. Half of me expects someone to stop me. It might take me a while to really believe I’m free.

The parking lot is pretty empty. Some cars are huddled along the edges, but one car is parked in the very centre, bold and alone. And on that car leans a man, silhouetted against the strong sunlight. Thick, muscled shoulders. A little hunch to them, promising intensity.

And… it’s definitely not Nate.

I walk towards Daniel. He stays put. No dramatic running from either side.

When I stop in front of him, it feels like I’m in a dream, but I guess that’s all right, since it’s not a bad one so far. He pushes his sunglasses on top of his head. His familiar clear brown eyes take me in. I do the same, studying the difference that 1,095 days, give or take a few, make in a person.

‘Where’s Nate?’ I finally say.

‘Cincinnati. I saved him the trip.’

Daniel has a couple of new grey streaks at the sides of his hair. The lines on his face are maybe a teensy bit deeper. I don’t mind at all.

I nod at his wheels.

‘Fancy car.’

‘It’s a rental. I flew in from Miami.’

‘Nice rental.’

His lips do that thing where they lift at the edge, like the tease of a smile, and he lowers his sunglasses so they’re again covering his eyes.

‘The podcast isn’t doing so bad.’

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