Page 2 of Xavier

“Tillie…” I gave her a stern look, knowing something was off. Every instinct in my body was now screaming at me. Not because I thought she was in danger. Because, I knew with every fiber of my being, someone had hurt her feelings. And that simply was not acceptable. “What. Happened?”

She gave me a nervous laugh and I noticed her chin trembling again. “So, Mom found out I’m an author.” She smiled again, but I could see tears gathering in her eyes to spill over again. “She wasn’t really impressed with the kind of books I write.” She nodded her head, not meeting my gaze as she tucked a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “She didn’t understand how I could write about such… uh… graphic things after what happened to me.”

I had to take a deep breath. It was paramount to keep calm when expressing negative emotion around Tillie. Anytime in her life someone had been upset with her or raised their voice, she knew she was going to get hurt. Given the way we met, I’m surprised she wasn’t terrified of me. Maybe because I was behind bulletproof glass now and she knew I couldn’t get to her. I hadn’t hurt her, but the situation had still been a violent encounter. If there was anything about that night I regret, it was that Tillie saw how violent I could be. Or, at least, she saw the aftermath.

“You told me several months ago you were thinking about movin’ out. Only reason you didn’t go then was to take care of your parents since your dad broke his hip. I thought they wanted you to stay with them.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, smiling even as she wiped tears from her cheeks with her fingers again. “They indicated they didn’t need my help anymore. I might have told them to go take a flying leap. But I plead the fifth.”

“Good for you, baby.” I smiled with her, surprised at how proud I was of her for taking up for herself. It was something she had trouble doing. Tillie was a pleaser. “So you found a place you could afford?”

She took a breath and continued to compose herself. I could practically see the emotional release as she told me about the little house she’d found on the outskirts. The longer she talked, the more she relaxed, and I could see that, despite being hurt by her parents’ rejection of her, she was genuinely happy about this change in her life.

Personally, I wanted to howl with relief. She’d stayed with her parents after her husband had been killed, but they had never been fully on her side. At least that was the way it seemed to me at the sentencing. Their body language was very standoffish and both of them looked at her like they’d just stuck lemons in their mouths. It had seemed to me then they were more upset with her for speaking up than they were because she’d lost her husband.

“Oh!” She shifted around in her seat happily. Thank God she’d shaken off her sadness. I wasn’t sure how I’d have managed if she cried anything other than happy tears. “I have a cell phone now. Do you want to write the number down? I mean,” she ducked her head, looking both shy and embarrassed, “I know you can’t just pick up the phone and call me all willy nilly.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “But, you know, in case you can call. Or need me to bring you something.”

I smiled. “I’ll remember if you want to tell me. I can write it down when I get back to my cell.” She rattled off the number, which I committed to memory. Phone numbers were a quirk of mine. I remembered them easily. I had no idea why, but I was fucking grateful for the ability.

“You have five minutes remaining.” The automated voice interrupted us, meaning we needed to wrap things up.

“I guess that’s all for this time.” She gave me that soft look she always gave me when the time came for her to leave. “I’m so sorry you got involved in my mess, Xave. You don’t deserve to be here, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Look, honey.” I put my hand back up on the window between us. “I want you to listen to me and really hear what I’m telling you.” She put her hand against the glass over mine once more and nodded. She looked so lost and riddled with guilt I wanted to see her husband dead all over again. “I chose to stop that night when I saw you on the road. I chose to offer you a ride. I chose to ask you to take me to the bastard who’d beaten and terrorized you. Then I chose to kill the son of a bitch. Me. You didn’t ask me. You didn’t force me. And I didn’t ask you if you wanted me to kill him. I’d never seen you before in my life that night I picked you up. But I never pick up hitchhikers. I’m also never in a car or a pickup because I’m always on my bike. Even in the rain. So me driving that old Ford Ranger the night I found you and actually stopping to pick you up? The whole thing should never have happened. That means things happened the way they were supposed to. Seeing you here when you come to see me with that big smile on your face, seeing you truly happy, is worth any amount of time I have to do in here, honey.” I grinned. “Besides, the food’s hot and mostly decent. I pulled a few strings to get my own cell. This ain’t the Hilton, but it’s a hell of a lot better than where I sent that bastard.” I shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “No pun intended.”

She teared up again but giggled. “I don’t know when you’ll be out, but when you are I’ll help you any way I can, Xavier. A place to stay, money, a job… I’ll share everything I have with you.”

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’. I’m not alone. Even in here, my brothers are looking out for me.”

Her eyes widened. “They are?”

I grinned. “Yeah. Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Yeah.” She shifted in her seat and pulled out a small notebook from her back pocket. “One of the perks of being a writer. I’ve always got something to write with and on.” She held up a… crayon? At my confused look she grinned. “I’m not allowed to bring sharp objects in here. I have to wait sometimes, so I brought something to write with. Just in case.”

I just chuckled. She was too sweet for words. “I’m going to give you a phone number. Keep it with you. If you ever need anything, call that number. Tell whoever answers you’re a friend of Xavier’s.” I gave her the number. She jotted it down, then repeated the number back to me. “Good. When I say anything, Tillie, I mean if you’re short on gas money or need groceries, if you don’t feel safe for any reason, anything at all you need, you call that number. They will come to you, no questions asked.”

“Why?” She glanced at the clock frantically, using every minute she could. “Why would you do all this, sacrifice a big part of your life? Give me a number if I need help? For me?”

I didn’t flinch. “Why not you? Could have been anyone on that street, but it was you. It was me. You needed something I could help with, so I provided.”

“Xavier, I swear, no matter what happens to either of us in the future, I will never forget what you did for me. I’ll pay it forward as best I can and I’ll make your sacrifice count. And I will never, ever not come to see you. I owe you my life! The least I can do is come visit.”

It should have sounded like a cheesy movie, but the sincerity in her voice and her tears were heart-melting. “You just keep writin’ your stories. Live your dream.”

“Your time is up. Please exit to your right.” The automated voice cut us off, but Tillie sat there, her hand still against mine with the glass between us. She hung up the phone and kept her gaze on me for long moments.

She turned her head and nodded at someone, then looked back at me. “Thank you.” I couldn’t hear her, but I read her lips easily enough. I nodded at her and hung up my phone.

Tillie never left the cubby before I left the room. I imagined she wanted every possible second with me. I touched the glass under her palm once more then turned and left.

It was Saturday afternoon. Tillie always came on Saturdays. Every week since I’d gone to prison, without fail. I always told her not to come. Since the first time she showed up, I tried to get her to stay away for her own good. But she kept showing up. And I soaked up each visit like a sponge to water.

As I approached the guard, I looked back over my shoulder one last time at Tillie. I had to top off my fix of looking at her. It could be the last time I ever saw her. One day, she would take my advice to heart. I just wasn’t sure what I was going to do when she did.

Chapter Two

Tillie

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