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“Do you really believe that?”
“You don’t fucking get it.” I flick his fancy silk tie. “You get to wear expensive suits and dine at restaurants with linen napkins and shit. You go home to a warm bed every night. Probably have a wife and kids. You don’t know shit about what it’s like for people like me.”
“People like you are the same as people like me. The only difference is I didn’t give up when life got shitty. I kept fighting.”
I laugh. “I’d love to hear this one. Please, tell me how the man in the suit and tie who owns his own business is just like the homeless kid who wakes up in a puddle of his own vomit each day.”
Darkness shadows over Reggie’s expression. “You make assumptions about my life based on what you see, but you didn’t see my struggle. You don’t know the pain I’ve been through. I’ve had to claw my way through hell to get where I am today.” His voice is low, menacing, and his coal eyes glisten in the light of the moon. “I had a wife and a son. Did you catch that? Had. My boy was a lot like you. Sex, drugs and alcohol. If it could kill him, he’d sample it.
“I tried to get a handle on him. I tried to help. But he didn’t want my help. Everything I did only pushed him further away. We fought all the time. I didn’t have the heart to kick him out though. I thought that would only solidify his fate. And you don’t give up on family, you know?”
No, I wouldn’t know anything about that. My family gave up on me a long time ago. But he’s got my attention.
“One day, after I found cocaine in his room, we got into it. He took his keys and stormed out of the house. About a half-hour later, I got a call. My son had gotten into an accident. He ran a red light at a busy intersection and got into a head-on collision with a woman in a Toyota.”
“What happened?”
“He went through the windshield, wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. He died before the ambulance got there. The woman he hit died on impact. At least that’s what they told me.” Reggie exhales and his shoulders drop. “My wife drove a Toyota.”
My stomach clenches and I feel like I’m going to throw up again.
“I didn’t put two and two together at first. I was too busy driving to the scene of the accident and trying to get a hold of my wife. She should’ve been on her way home from work but she wasn’t answering her cell.” His voice shakes. “When I finally got through the crowd, I recognized her car.”
Something cracks open inside me. Wide open. All my emotions flood me at once. His son killed his own mother. And it was an accident. A senseless accident. All because a kid made a mistake.
“So that’s why you want to help me,” I say. “Because you couldn’t save your son.”
“Everything happens for a reason. Those reasons don’t always get revealed to us. But you were in my office and we crossed paths for a reason. Maybe I’m crazy for trying to help a stranger, but I’d feel crazy if I didn’t try.” Reggie grips my shoulder. “I know I can help you. I know it. All you need to do is try.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Present
Carla
“Hey, Ron.”
“Good Morning, sweets. How you doin’ today?”
I giggle. “I’m great. How you doin’?”
Ron slaps a stack of mail on the countertop and adjusts his mailbag. “You gotta put more emphasis on the doin’.”
“I really thought I had it that time. I’ll keep practicing.”
He winks. “See you Monday, sweets.”
I take the mail into TJ’s office and set it down on his desk. The letter on top of the pile catches my eye: New York City Department of Corrections. It’s addressed to Thomas J. Cutler.
A letter from prison?
Is TJ’s name Thomas?
“Carla?”
I jump at least an inch off the ground before scurrying out from behind TJ’s desk. “In your office,” I call.
TJ leans against the doorjamb, his eyes scanning down my body and back up.
