Chapter seventy
After brushing past my escape to Los Angeles, I explained my joy with Mr Allendro. "He was the father I never had." I said, quite genuinely with my eyes low. This time, Dad's reaction wasn't even what mattered to me. I truly did want to let it all out so people could learn from the errors I'd made.
Heaving out a deep sigh, I leaned over and braced my elbows on my knees. "I took over the gym then and kick-started the boxing dream, although I was as lonely and depressed as could be. And then, on the long quest for peace and happiness, I sought out to end the lives of those who'd killed my brother. The error began when I thought vengeance was what would help me."
I saw some heads nod in agreement and some pens scribble some notes; seemed I dropped something to think about. By now, Dylan was attentive and had narrow eyes fixed unmoving on me. He was listening like this moment was really crucial for him.
I knew though that I was going to disappoint just like I'd done to every other person. Without much words or details, I explained each murder case as well as my meeting with Simon. And of course, his threats and advices.
"It had taken a near death experience to humble me and teach me the true essence of life," I said as I came to sit upright once more. Straightening my legs in front of me, I frowned. Because I was about to reach the exciting twist.
"Months later, I came to realize Noah had never died…"
"Noah's alive?" Dylan gasped the question out. Staring at his face, the relief and concern was pretty much obvious that I had to bite in the smile I felt. He'd noticed and was soon blinking as though to escape the fatherly trance and pull himself together.
"Yes, Dylan. My brother is alive," I teased. Soon, I took my eyes off him to stare around at the other inmates. "That was when I realized the grievance of what I'd done. Guilt set in; something I'd buried under the carpet just so I'd rebind with my long lost brother. When I couldn't take it anymore, I told him…everything."
"Wow," Alan spoke up finally. "How did he take it?"
Shrugging, I threw a little light on Noah's outburst and anger, as well as his own part of the story. Soon, I was on my way to how I confessed and turned myself in.
"Wait…wait," a fellow prisoner named Myers stopped me mid sentence. "You're here because you told them you were guilty?"
After a few seconds of hesitance, I nodded. I could bet this story would have gone into every ear by morning. "Anyways, I got a life sentence, and at this moment, I'm not even sure of my fate."
I believe that was the close of my storytime. Like a weight off my shoulders, I sighed and kept my eyes low. It was a difficult tale to tell now and then, given the fact it only brought back the images of things I so detested.
"You did well, Jeffery," Dylan Joe finally muttered like it'd taken all his energy to say that. "How do you feel?"
How did I feel? Moments passed as I gazed at my feet in silence, searching for my most genuine answer. Tipping my head, I admitted. "I believe I need forgiveness to feel much better."
All he'd done was nod, taking the next few seconds to wander in his thoughts. He seemed reluctant to move on to the next person. However, in the end, he gave in.
***
I'd known that very night that my days here were counting. That was just the feeling that came and stuck ever since that session. I'd attended more of course, heard more stories; sad ones that got my sympathy as well as totally hilarious ones that stole a smile from me.
Dylan continued to lead each session and our bond began to form, although slowly. Each time I wished to confront him, a different mind advised me to hold on until I heard his own story from his lips. As though he read my mind, he'd chosen to do just that tonight, and I was looking forward to it.
Hours later, we were all gathered under the dim light of the hanging bulb, listening crucially to his words like our lives depended on them.
"After a divorce with my wife, my trauma seeped into my activities with the military," he began. "Soon, I had no option but to opt out a resignation and return to my hometown in Montana. But then, here came this mentally unstable woman moving in with her baby next door to add salt to my wounds."
He sniffed sadly with a touch of pain in his eyes. Shaking his head, my father rubbed his face and resumed his story. "She nagged even at nighttime right at my bed window about how I parked my car at the wrong lane. One day, she threw a smoke bomb through my door and left obscene messages on my front porch. The second time I parked my car wrongly, she set the thing on fire, making sure to litter the remains on my front yard. God knee my patience was running thin."
"No cap, I'd have put a bullet through her skull if I'd been in your shoes," Brummel admitted quite frankly.
Myself? I'd have put two bullets. I hope I was joking.
Anyway, Dylan scoffed in response. "You know how often the thought came to mind. The only thing that stopped me was her baby. However, my patience broke down when she barged into my house. There I was having a peaceful get together with my former colleagues from the army one night. Lady said the karaoke machine was too loud, barged in and chased us all out with a burning stick."
I won't lie, that one amused me. The laughter I let out did not hide it too well. The rest of them though were plainly vexed for him.
"That was the day I decided I wanted her out of my vicinity," he said matter-of-factly. "What better way to do that than burn her house down until even the ashes were no more? When she was out the next day, that was exactly what I'd done. But then…"
He trailed off and I saw tears in his eyes. The powerful Dylan Joe… As his fingers shivered, it was obvious the pain he felt inside was making him speechless. "Who leaves a five-month-old baby alone at home?"
Several hushed exclamations came from each side as each man was shocked to his bones. Although I'd known from the start that that was the expected end of his tale, it hit differently when I watched him tell it.
His emotions, his pauses for breath and the genuine regret. Honestly, I did not hate him at all for it, neither did I see him any differently. I was honoured he wanted me to hear it, perhaps to clear the air and see if I truly wanted to be related to him after it. And of course, I did.
"How long did you get?" I couldn't help but ask, hoping the answer wasn't one that put me off.
His stare on me was warm and subtle. "Thirty years. I've served fifteen."
With a forced smile, I nodded towards him and held his stare. His look spoke of questions, wondering my take on the whole matter and perhaps longing to hear what I had to say. "I forgive you, Dad. And this lady, Noah and I will help you find her. Hopefully, she'll forgive you as well."