Chapter 95

Emily

I reached out to my childhood friend. His name is Jack, somebody who was there that day when Derek died. Him and his family left the city, but have recently come back in the last few months, living in a house, just down the road from my father's current one.

I texted him over social media last night, asking to see if he had the time to talk. Thankfully, he did, and agreed to meet me at my favorite café in the downtown area.

Now I'm sitting in a booth towards the back. My eyes scan the busy coffee shop, the place is unusually busy for a day like today. I feel apologetic for Jack who pushes through the crowd, taking a seat at my side.

“Long time no see, Jack,” I breathe the words out, refusing to let my anxiety take over my body. It has been in control for long enough. It is time for me to take control of my life back, to hold the reins in my hands once again.

“You look good,” Jack comments. I force a smile onto my face, telling myself to be nice and cordial since he's doing me this favor. He tilt his head to the side and adds, “you look tired though. Did you get enough sleep?”

“I’ve had better nights,” I notes with a small chuckle. He chuckles back and the tension dissipates between us. “Thank you for doing this. I really appreciate it, it means the world to me, really.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he waves away my concerns, his typical charming smile flashing across his face. “it's the least that I could do. Derek was one of my best friends back then. He deserves to have the truth come out about his death.”

Jack’s resonates deep into my soul. It feels good to know that somebody else wants to get to the bottom of this and not frame the first person that my parents pointed the finger up. It feels good to know that somebody else is on my side, somebody that I know won't abandon me as soon as things get tough.

“Could you tell me what you remember about that day at the playground?” I ask, grabbing my warm cup of tea between my hands to keep me grounded. “is there anything at all that sticks out to you? Something weird or out of place that you can possibly remember?”

Jack diverts his gaze. He looks at the stained wooden table, his side of the booth squeaking as he uncomfortably shifts in a seat. He places his hands on the top of the table, and I let out a quiet sigh, hoping that this all was in vain in that he has something to tell me.

I watch as he sucks in a breath. He holds it in, slowly exhaling as one of the waiters in the café brings over his drink. He quietly thinks them before turning back to me. I lick my lips and anticipation, my mouth running dry as he read himself to show me his side of the story.

“We were so young then,” he says in a low voice. It is tinge with sadness, an angsty version of nostalgia washing over his body. I feel it too. “I can barely remember what happened, but I do remember that there was somebody else there other than our mother’s.”

I freeze. The revelation shocks my body to life, my blood rushing through my veins at a rapid pace. I stare at him in shock, the only thing I'm able to do is to blink at him as I process this information, allowing him to freely speak.

“Derek was having the time of his life. He really wanted to go on that slide and I remember a man's voice telling him that he'll take him up there himself since he was too small to walk up the ladder on his own,” Jack lets out a quiet laugh, remembering the way Derek tried to argue his way out out of getting help.

I snort, remembering the way Derek held his mom's hand as she walked him to the side, helping him through his fear of heights.

“Yeah,” I fondly say, our eyes meeting, “he was so scared, but wanted to understand why we loved it so much!”

Jack and I share a laugh. It's bitter and short and it's filled with reverence for the past. I cover my mouth with my hands and look towards the front of the store.

In the front, a mother stands their small child. He is about the same age as Derek, small and mighty, and determined to get a chocolate chip muffin. I smile at the sight, unable to look away as Jack continues to talk.

“There was somebody else that day, Emily.”

His words make my body freeze. The warmth once felt from remembering our childhood friend disappears, leaving me feeling so hollow, so empty, now that he is gone from our lives. In the back of my mind, I can hear the crack of Derek's neck, his death painless, and instant.

Jack and I’d gazes meet. We sit in an ugly silence, one filled with the unanswered questions as to who took the life of our sweet friend. My eyes filled with tears, my hands reaching out to wipe them away before they could fall, capturing them on the dry skin of my hands.

Jack reaches out and takes my hand in his. He squeezes it, looking at her connected limbs as a depressed expression shadows over his face. We sit in the quietness of the booth, listening to the clinks of ceramic coffee cups, and the laughter from a group of teenagers nearby.

“We’ll figure out who did it soon enough,” he says, “I will go home and ask my mom to see if she knows anything about it. She was there that day. She will know way more than I do.”

“Thank you,” I stammer.

“Of course,” Jack replies.

After we finish our drinks, we push away from the booth and walk our cups back to the counter. The barista thinks us and we step outside of the coffee shop, entering the public eye once again.

Turning to face Jack, I feel a rejuvenated sense of hope. With this information that he has brought me, I know that I am bound to vindicate my name, to clear my hands of the blood that does not belong to me.

Jack pulls me into a hug. It's not rush snore is it forced. We stand there together, taking in each other's presence, allowing ourselves to mourn the loss of our friends 20 years later. I pull away after a minute, placing distance between us.

“When can I see you again?” my friend asks. I offer him a simple shrug in response, unsure of how to answer.

“Soon,” I nod my head, finally able to verbalize it. “I don't know when, life has been really busy for me lately.”

“I understand,” he smiles down at me. It brings me comfort to know that he is as patient as he was before. “I'll see you later then?”

I not and shove my hands into my pockets, watching as he walks away in the opposite direction. I linger my spot before turning to the side, noticing logan parked on the side of the road. He stands beside his car, arms crossed over his chest, a look of disapproval on his face.

I suck in a breath. I feel hopeless, unsure of what to do or say to put his mind at ease that Jack and I are just friends, that he's helping me out in my time of need.

Logan opens up the door to the passenger side. I say nothing and get in, allowing him to close the door behind me as anxiety ripples through my body.