Sing Sing Correctional Facility
3 Years Ago
My leg hasn’t stopped shaking since I sat down in this fucking chair. I’m pretty sure I’ve chewed my thumbnail down to the quick, and I pull my hand away from my face, spitting out the bits of nail I’ve managed to chew off.
I don’t know why I’m really here right now. I mean, I do, but I don’t know if I’m fully prepared to get the answers I’m looking for. Unfortunately, the only person who’s going to be able to give me the honest to god’s truth is Hoyt Blackburn.
I’m more here for my Red than anything else, because she can’t take any more fucking blows than life has already dealt her. I want to take some of this shit off her shoulders—even if it means putting myself in a fucking state I won’t be able to claw my way out of.
And if I’m right, if Hoyt confirms what I found, I’ll keep it from her for as long as I can. I almost lost her once a long fucking time ago, and I won’t risk it again. Bad things tend to happen when I’m faced with losing Red, and there are only so many people left to take my anger out on before it turns to her. I’ll never let that happen, though. I’ll turn all my fucking rage onto myself before I ever hurt her.
I sigh and irritably run a hand back through my hair. I’ve been staring at the door on the other side of the thick glass window for so goddamn long, I feel like my eyes are gonna dry up and turn to dust if it doesn’t move soon.
Leaning back in my chair, I blow out my breath and look at the painfully white wall next to me. It makes me hope that the rest of this prison isn’t the exact same mind-numbing color. I’m sure it could be enough to drive any man crazy. It’s starting to agitate me, and I’ve only been in here for about ten minutes.
Just when I’m ready to give up and leave, I can hear a pair of voices on the other side of the door. I sit up and arch an eyebrow as the door opens. I haven’t seen Hoyt in years, but he doesn’t look too different from what I remember. I’m pretty sure that, standing, he’s still got an inch or two on me, but that’s about it.
As soon as he’s out of his chains and our eyes lock, I pick up the phone receiver on my end and wait for him to do the same thing. Instead, he just sits down and stares at me for a moment, drumming his fingertips along the countertop.
Hoyt shakes his head slightly before he finally picks up his phone and holds it to his ear. I open my mouth, but he shakes his head, and almost imperceptibility raises his eyes to the camera in the room above me.
I get it; we’re being recorded. They can hear everything we say, and they can see everything we do. I understand he’s just being careful, but we’re past that shit now.
I nod once just to let him know I’ll watch what I say, and he leans back in his chair, receiver pressed against his ear, and waits.
“How ya doing, old man?” I ask him quietly.
“About as good as I can be, I guess,” he replies with a shrug. His voice is just as deep as I remember it, and the little boy in me smiles, because he’s talking to his hero again. The man in me keeps a straight face and a hardened heart, because if he ever truly was my hero, he wouldn’t have let things go this far.
“What can I do for you, Jori?” he asks, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the counter. The way he asks me—it’s almost as if he thinks he actually can do something for me, locked up in a prison. “Is it Gracie? Is she okay?”
“Red’s fine,” I reply curtly. He nods and I clear my throat. I’m not entirely sure how to go about this, and it’s not exactly something to just blurt out. “Uh … I’ve got a couple of things I need to talk to you about.”
Hoyt’s unnerving eyes never waiver as he glances up at the camera again, then back at me with a nod.
“How’s that box doing? Half full or half empty?” he asks, with a soft smile.
“More than half full,” I reply, picking nervously at the chipped counter. “We don’t need much, you know? I’m really careful with how much we spend out of it, because I don’t want to leave her alone for eight hours a fucking day just to make ends meet.”
I instantly cringe at my choice of words. That box held Hoyt’s life savings from the day he started working when he was fourteen years old, up until he got arrested for Doreen’s murder. That shit still eats at me—he put his prints all over that fucking hammer and burned my shirt to ash before he called the cops and turned himself in over a crime he didn’t commit. All because a twelve year old boy was scared of losing his best friend—that’s the hero in him, but that’s not who I’m looking for right now.
Hoyt chuckles into the receiver. “Good. I’m glad to know you kids are still doing okay … you know, with my eight hours a day away from Gracie,” he teases.
“Sorry. Shitty choice of words,” I mumble, looking down at the counter. I wouldn’t mind getting a job. It would be nice to get out of our place for a change, but I just can’t fathom leaving her alone for that stretch of time, five days a week. I would feel like I’m abandoning her.
“So what’s on your mind?” he asks again, curiously.
I turn my eyes back up toward him, leveling an even stare through the glass. “Why didn’t you tell the truth?”
Hoyt shakes his head and holds up a warning finger. “I won’t talk about that. If that’s what you’re here for, I’ll have to go.”
I bite my lip angrily and grip the receiver tighter. There’s only one more piece of truth I’m here for, and it’s going to fucking break me if he confirms it.
“Alright,” I begin as I clear my throat. “I found a large envelope at the bottom of the box—under the money? I … uh … I opened it and I read what was inside, and—” My words catch in my throat as venomous tears spring to my eyes, and I stare at him, waiting for him to confirm or deny my findings.
A sad smile forms on Hoyt’s tired face and he looks down at his hands for a moment.
“Oh my God. Goddammit,” I breathe, looking down and shaking my head. The receiver falls from my hands as the tears continue to fall. Hoyt knocks on the glass a few times until I finally look up, and motions for me to pick the receiver back up.
“I want you to listen to me, okay?” he begins gently. “I …” He sighs. “Me and Doreen were never officially married. We referred to each other as husband and wife because of that common law bullshit, but I did love her like she was mine on paper, you know? Anyway, she never wanted kids, but I didn’t know that until after. I thought that if we gave you to Millie for a while, she’d come around, and at least I could go and visit with you. But I guess my sister was as bitter as Doreen’s brother was a fucking whack job, but I didn’t know that until after everything happened.”
“Why do we have different last names?” I ask him, my voice shaking.
“Doreen’s maiden name is Davidson. She wouldn’t let me in the room when you were born, so I fought her tooth and nail for Gracie’s name. I never not wanted you; you’re my boy. I’ve loved you even when I wasn’t allowed to go near you, and that’s the reason why, to answer your first question. I’ve never been able to do shit for you your entire life, but I was able to do this, and I jumped at the chance to fucking be a good father to you when the opportunity came up.”
“Um, does Red know?” I ask him, closing my eyes and covering my face with my free hand.
“No. She never knew you were her brother. To be honest, it made me happy to see you two getting along so well, you know? It’s almost like deep down inside, you both knew something was different about the other one, yet still the same,” he replies with a wistful laugh.
My lower lip is trembling to the point where the sob will escape me soon if I don’t get it together. The girl I love above everyone else on this rancid planet … there’s been a reason the entire time, but it never clicked with either of us.
“Hey,” Hoyt suddenly says in an even tone. “How close exactly are you two, anyway?”
I meet his eyes again and put a fist to my mouth to keep from outright bawling. A look of understanding washes over his face as he leans back in his chair.
“Fuck,” he mutters quietly. Hoyt turns his face away for a moment to compose himself before he looks at me again. “Listen to me. I can forgive you for what happened before today because you didn’t know, but I cannot and will not forgive you for anything that happens when you leave this room. Do you understand me?”
I nod and use my knuckles to wipe away my tears. I have one more question for him, and then I’ll walk away and never think of him again.
“Do you think her life would be better if you were still in it instead of me?” I ask him quietly.
“That’s tough to say, Jori,” he replies, shaking his head. “I don’t know how many more years I’ve got left—on the inside or outside. You’re still a young kid in your twenties, and as long as you keep your head on straight, you’ll probably be around a hell of a lot longer than I would be, anyway.”
I nod and blow my breath out. Hoyt just sealed his own fate, because had he said himself, I would have stopped at the front desk and turned myself in for the murder of Doreen Davidson.
“Alright. That’s all I wanted to know; thanks,” I say, getting to my feet and hanging up the phone.
Hoyt taps the glass again to get my attention, but I walk out without so much as a backward glance. Once I get back to the car and back onto the road, I’ll light my birth certificate on fire, and Red will never know that we shouldn’t be together the way we are.
She’ll love me for being the man by her side, instead of the brother she didn’t know she’d been growing up with all along, and it’ll be okay, because once Hoyt’s dead, there will be no one left to tell her, anyway.