“Yes, of course. You didn’t know?”
I shrug. “I knew that he hung around with some bad people but I didn’t know that he did anything…illegal.”
“He was a well-known dealer of meth and opioids,” the prosecutor says. “Ran a small crew, with four guys under him. The ones he was with that night were also a bit higher up in the organization. They called each other managers. The ones who worked for them were entry level associates.”
I shake my head.
“None of this is on record, of course,” he continues. “But it was well known in the department. The cops never had enough to really put him away, so when he was arrested on this charge, they threw the book at him, so to speak.”
It’s hard to explain how it feels to find out that something is a lie after years of thinking it was the truth.
All I can say is that it tastes like bile.
I feel like Owen and I have gotten very close recently. He wrote me every day telling me everything about his life. The thing that he neglected to share was his past.
“You didn’t know?” the prosecutor asks.
31
When we wait…
I stare at the prosecutor, hoping that I don’t look too bewildered. He asks me again if I knew any of what he had just told me about Owen. Do I look like I do? I want to ask him. Instead, I just shake my head no.
“Well, pretty much everyone in prison has a past. That doesn’t change the fact that he might have been rehabilitated.”
This piques my interest. “You think he should be released?” I ask.
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what you argued.”
“It’s my job to argue for the state, whether or not I agree with their position.”
I shake my head, unable to fathom what it would be like to make arguments that I didn’t believe in. I can hardly make arguments that I do believe in.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“I’m saying that there are a lot of people who are serving time they probably shouldn’t be. And there are a lot of people who are living the good life on the outside, who probably should be incarcerated for life. The system isn’t perfect but it’s all we have.”
“Where does my brother fit in?” I ask.
“Somewhere in the gray area. He did something wrong. He got convicted. Should he be paying for that misdeed all of these years later?” He sighs deeply. “I’m not so sure.”
I look down at my shoes not sure what else to talk to him about.
“Listen, I have to get back inside and review my notes. But it was nice talking to you, Olive, right?” He extends his hand and I realize that I don’t know his name.
“Yes, Olive Kernes. And you are?” I ask.
“Bradley Bookout.” He gives me a firm handshake. “It has been a pleasure.”
Watching him walk back into the room, I wonder if the next argument he makes for the state he will actually believe in.
Or maybe, he has done this for so long, that he’s past the point of caring.
Our legal system is based on the assumption that if both sides fight hard, then the truth will emerge.
How does that saying go about what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of u and me?
I texted Nicholas as soon as the hearing was over so that he could drive from the hotel. There was no point in him waiting for me in the parking lot because I had no idea when everything would come to an end.
“How long have you been waiting?” I ask, climbing into the rental car, a new model Range Rover.
“How did it go?” he asks.
He starts the engine but doesn’t move the car from park. He turns his body toward mine and waits.
“It was in the administrative part of the building but I still had to go through all the checks like I was a visitor,” I start. "Those can take an enormous amount of time, depending on how many guards are on duty and how many visitors show up. In the past, I had to wait in a lineup of cars at three a.m. just to get in at six. But today, because I had an appointment, they actually let me through.”
This isn’t really what he is eager to hear but I can’t bring myself to tell him the rest. Not yet.
“Let’s just get out of here,” I say. “I’m starving.”
We don’t talk much on the way to the restaurant. I’m so famished I want to ask him to pull over at the nearest fast food place so I can order everything on the menu, but I keep my cool. It’s the anxiety talking.
Besides, I’ve made a promise to myself to eat clean and healthy for thirty days. No processed food. No sugar. No bread.
I haven’t eaten meat in years and, for this challenge, I quit dairy as well.
What’s left? Greens like asparagus and celery and kale. Fish - salmon and tilapia are my favorites, and eggs.
I’ve been cooking with olive oil instead of butter for a while now and have taught myself to snack on sunflower seeds and walnuts in moderation.
This morning I broke the rules and had a power bar. But this evening, I’m going to stick to them.
I scan the menu and quickly order sautéed salmon with asparagus and green beans on the side. Technically, green beans are also not allowed, beans are a processed food, but the cheating here isn’t out of control. It’s when Nicholas suggests a dessert of chocolate cheesecake that my mouth really starts to water.
Chocolate has always been my downfall. A few years ago, I switched to very dark chocolate like eighty-five or ninety percent instead of milk because those bars have a lot less sugar in them. I developed my palate and now I can throw back one or two of them on a bad day, quite easily. I love the bitterness and the tartness as well as the complexity in the taste.
“You’ve been quiet all evening,” Nicholas says, as I stare at his gigantic plate of pasta, yearning for just one bite.
“Just thinking about your food. It looks delicious.”
“It is,” he says, taking a bite. “You want some?”
“Yes, but no.”
“It’s okay if you have some.”
No, it’s not. I have made a commitment and this time I’m going to stick to it. I have started and stopped this thirty-day challenge about five times already, always giving up just a day into it. Beans and a power bar are not such bad cheats, but if I take even one bite of pasta, I know that I won’t be able to stop.
“You look beautiful just the way you are,” Nicholas says.
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” I give him a nod.
I'm glad that he finds me attractive but it’s not really him who I’m doing this for. I appreciate and love my body but at the same time I know I need a change.
I want to get out of this spiral where whenever anything bad happens, I immediately turn to food to make it better.
Today is a hard day to say no, but if I can stay strong today then I can do it on all of those other days as well.
“So, are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Nicholas asks.
32
When we eat…
Back in Hawaii, Nicholas didn't want to let me come back here. We had a fight about it. I did something that was probably stupid and too dangerous. The only reason I’m here at all is that he chartered a private plane and traveled with me.