Calvin had the house to himself.
His folks were out for the evening, and thusly, he could do anything he wanted. He could anyway, he was a grown man after all, but still, living at home even in his late 30s, made him feel eternally like a child. First he watched some TV down in the living room, then he made a nice dinner for himself and ate at the table in the kitchen, basking in the uninterrupted silence he so rarely got these days. After this, he took a shower, and then he headed out to the shed in the backyard to work on fixing a small motor. Lately, he'd found, his hobbies were his only saving grace from the madness that was consuming his life, and he was ever so grateful for them. Sitting on the stool, soldering metal together, he heard a bang on the door and was surprised. His parents were gone, and it was - he checked his watch - 9pm at night, who could possibly be coming to visit? It might be Rachel, he figured, she liked to drop in often, but still, it seemed a bit too late for anyone to be coming over. Calvin groaned, got off the stool and then answered the door, surprised to see a disheveled Wyatt and a giddy looking Angie standing outside.
"...what the hell are you two doing here at this time?" Calvin asked.
"We need to hide a body," Wyatt said, and Calvin had to admit, that hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.
4 HOURS EARLIER
"There hasn't been any kind of innovation in the sandwich industry in years," Rachel said as she bit into her lunch and chewed, continuing while she did, "like, a sandwich is maybe one of the worlds oldest foods, and yet what was the last new sandwich? A sub?"
"I know that ciabatta bread wasn't invented until 1982, that's always been weird to me," Wyatt said, "that's way too late to be inventing new types of bread. But you're not wrong. The candy industry isn't stagnant. We're constantly getting new variations of candy bars. Maybe not new candy bars proper, but variations at the very least. So what's holding the sandwich industry up in their attempts to do anything fresh?"
Rachel swallowed, picked up her cup and took a long sip from her straw. She and Wyatt had met for lunch today simply because they hadn't seen one another in a bit, and Wyatt wanted to check in on her now that she was on proper medication. For what he could see, she was doing infinitely better. She seemed far less nervous and skittish. They were sitting in a little deli downtown, near Rachel's workplace, and each eating a sandwich.
"Things have seemed rather calm lately," Rachel said, "all things considered."
"They have, and frankly, I appreciate it," Wyatt replied, "like...I'm so sick of constantly having to scramble to fix something, it's nice to have times where absolutely nothing happens. Reminds me of my life before everything."
Rachel nodded in agreement.
"Has he come back yet?" she asked, and Wyatt shook his head.
"Surprisingly no," he said, "I was wholly expecting him to, he said he would. But so far he hasn't shown his face again, and honestly, that's for the better. Last thing I wanna deal with right now is a private investigator for an airline. I have enough on my plate as it is. But if he does, don't worry, you'll be the first to know. Well, ya know, outside me, cause I'll be the one dealing with it."
Rachel sighed, finished her sandwich and looked at her phone. It was about time for her to head back to work, and frankly, lately, she hadn't been annoyed by it. Work had been the only thing that was keeping her sane. Plus, she got to work with Sun Rai, and that was nice. To spend time with your partner in a non partner setting, just as coworkers, that was oddly comforting. Work was the only bit of normality she felt she had anymore. She wiped her hands on her jeans and exhaled.
"Well," she said, "hopefully he just recognizes there's nothing here for him to find, and he leaves town. Cause unless someone coughs something up, and nobody will, he won't have any information to report back with. I highly doubt Kelly's gonna tell him squat, especially since she didn't know about it when it happened."
"Here's to hopin'," Wyatt said, raising his cup to her. Rachel stood up, pulled her jacket back on, readjusted her apron and hugged Wyatt as he sat in his chair. She then exited the deli, leaving Wyatt alone with his food and his thoughts. As he continued eating, he thought about his children, his place of work, his relationship with his wife, and so much more. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could stomach the guilt of killing another person. Calvin had to be taken out for the greater good. But...but no. He just wasn't that kind of person. He could never pull the trigger. He took another bite and chewed, completely unawares that in the corner booth across the restaurant, Angie was watching him.
***
Calvin visited the graveyard that afternoon, bringing the monthly bouquets for his wife and daughter. He set them down on their respective headstones, then seated himself between them, listening to the birds sing and the soft low hum of the groundskeepers landscaping tools somewhere in the near distance. How ironic, he thought, the most peaceful place is the place you don't even get to experience the peacefulness of. He sighed and put his hand on his wifes stone.
"It's all fucked up," he said, "I'm all fucked up. You would hate the man I've become, and yet...I became this man because of losing you. The irony is not lost on me, I assure you. I want things to go back to how they were, but...but I'm not sure they ever can. I think we're too far gone at this point."
An older couple walked by, also holding flowers, clearly here to visit someone. Calvin watched as they went over the small hill and disappeared from sight before turning his vision towards his daughters headstone. He felt his eyes swell up with tears, and he didn't even try to not cry.
"At this point," he whispered, "all I want is to be with you both. I don't care about anything anymore. I've done such monstrous things in the name of misguided morality, and everyone is right, Wyatt is right...I'm a bad person. Now I just wanna rest. Now I just wanna be with you."
He exhaled and wiped his face clean with his arm, trying to regain what little composure he had left. What, really, did he have to stick around for? Everything was over. Sure, there was an investigator in town for the airline, but that wouldn't last. Otherwise, Brighton was gone, Grudin was dealt with and even Wattson was finished. Kelly had survived the entire ordeal, perhaps bouncing back even stronger than she'd been before, and so really, what good did it do anyone to have him stick around? His folks would be having a night out tonight, perhaps he would take advantage of it. Relax. Do some hobby work. Then do what everyone seemed to want him to do, and put an end to it all.
After all, what he really wanted was to be with his family again. Why deny himself that joy.
***
"Why can't I come to your moms group?" Wyatt asked, and Scarlett scoffed as she stood in front of her vanity mirror, applying eye makeup.
"Because you're not a mom?" she said, "pop out two kids and then come talk to me about membership."
"Wow, there's membership? This group really is classy," Wyatt said, shifting his weight on the end of the bed as he watched her do her makeup. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. Wyatt had always loved watching his wife apply makeup, he always found her at her most beautiful when she did the most seemingly mundane tasks. He sighed and let his hands hang down between his knees, saying quietly, "I don't wanna fight anymore."
"Me either," Scarlett said, turning to face him on her little stool, "I'm sick of arguing. We need to spend some time together. Get away for a bit or something. Maybe leave the kids with my parents and just...just go somewhere, you know?"
"That sounds like a good idea," Wyatt said. After she finished, she gathered Mona and their son and headed out with her child bag in hand, leaving Wyatt alone for the night. Wyatt stood in the empty foyer of the house, hands in his pockets, unsure what to do with himself. He turned and looked around at his surroundings, chewing on his lip. He could call Kelly, see if she wanted to go do something, or just hang out. Was that weird though? Going to hang out with another woman while your wife was away? She was just a friend though, so probably not. Suddenly a knock at the door roused him from his thoughts, and he quickly answered, surprised to find Ricky on the porch. Ricky removed his hat in a polite manner, grinning.
"Did you wait until my wife left to knock?" Wyatt asked, "that's a little creepy."
"Well, figure you wouldn't want any family around for this," Ricky said, as he tried to make his way into the house, but Wyatt continued to block the front door. Ricky sighed and, reaching into his coat, pulled out a paper, unfolding it and handing it to Wyatt. Wyatt read it, his eyes widening, before looking at Ricky, who just grinned. Wyatt then stepped aside, and allowed him to enter.
"Where did you get this? Who even wrote it?" Wyatt asked, and Ricky shrugged.
"No idea, it was just left on the doorstep of my motel room," Ricky said, "And while I don't claim it to mean anything concrete, I would be a pretty bad investigator if I didn't at least look into it."
"This says nothing, honestly, this could've just been written by someone wanting to cause me grief," Wyatt said, shaking the paper, "there's literally nothing in here that could be construed as any kind of proof of guilt. It's the most vague thing I've ever read, honestly."
"If it's so meaningless why are you so vehemently defending your innocence?" Ricky asked, "just asking."
Wyatt opened his mouth to say something else, then just as quickly shut it. He didn't want to bury himself in a deeper hole. Ricky smiled and continued looking at the photos in the foyer, admiring Wyatt's family. Wyatt wanted to scream. Who would've done this? Who would've tried to pin everything on him? Calvin? No, even he wouldn't stoop this low, would he?
"So," Ricky said, holding a school portrait of Mona, "anything you want to admit to?"
Wyatt sighed, knowing he had no choice. He'd been put in a corner, and he knew it was time to come clean. He just hoped everyone would understand.
***
Rachel and Sun Rai had ordered in food that night, as neither didn't want to cook after working all day, and were planning for the next few days while they lounged on the couch, eating and watching TV on mute. Sun was debating whether or not to go see her father, because he'd be in the hospital for a week or so, and she was worried that if she didn't see him beforehand, she wouldn't be able to stomach going while he was there, despite having been a nurse. Rachel slurped some noodles off her chopsticks and shrugged.
"Whatever you decide you know I'll support," she said, "but forgive me if I don't really know how to respond. When you don't really have parents, it kind of makes giving advice to those who do a bit harder."
"That's fair," Sun Rai said, stabbing some shrimp with a fork, adding, "you know, you could come with me. They'd love you. They aren't, like, super supportive exactly, but once they got to know you, they'd love you. My mom already kind of likes you as it is. You're growing on them. Plus I could use the support."
"I could handle that," Rachel said, smiling, putting a hand on Sun Rai's thigh.
They continued eating for a bit, watching some commercials, until Rachel set her things down on the coffee table and exhaled, leaning back into the couch and running her hands through her long hair.
"I've actually been thinking about going to see my own parents," she said, "I just...even if I have to twist their arms, I'd like them to try and get along with me. I don't like not having family. It bums me out severely. I was thinking maybe we could schedule a dinner that we could go to together, or maybe go to their house cause my mom loves to cook. Maybe if we just...ya know...get in there, let them see me, us, for who we are, then-"
"Don't put all your eggs in one basket," Sun Rai said, "I just...I don't want you to be let down."
Rachel knew the likelihood of her parents accepting her were slim to none, but she figured she still had to try, if for no other reason than to at least be able to say she was the one who tried. Rachel slumped back down into the couch and crossed her arms, leaning into Sun Rai, who stroked her hair. Maybe Sun Rai was right, she should tone down her hopes. But lately, it felt like hope was all she had left.
***
"Thank you," Ricky said, as Wyatt handed him a beer from the fridge. Wyatt pulled his own out and they both popped the lids before taking a drink. Wyatt leaned against the counter and sighed, shaking his head. Where to even begin? Where to start?
"Probably best to start at the beginning, I guess," he said, "though at this point it's hard to put my finger on what exactly was the beginning. There's so much it all just blends together now."
"That's fine, just take your time, I'm in no rush," Ricky said, lifting his beer to his lips.
Wyatt didn't know what to say. Robert Grudin felt like the right starting point, but for that, he'd need to contextualize the necessity that brought about his death, meaning starting with Calvin and his family being killed by Grudin's carelessness. God, so much set up. He felt like he was trying to recite a novel. Wyatt took a long drink and then wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve.
"I guess," Wyatt started, "...I guess it started with our high school reunion. Our friend, Calvin, he was there in body only, not in spirit. He'd already lost everything that mattered to him. Robert Grudin saw to that. Killing his family in a headon collision brought on by driving under the influence and then not taking responsibility for the fact. Everything is Calvin's fault. I mean, that's not fair, we all had a hand in it, but...but it all stemmed from him. His rage and his...his thirst for justice. Never seemed to occur to Calvin that maybe justice just isn't something we all get, or that by hurting others he was lowering himself to their level. He seems to have this superiority complex about him, that everything he does is justified."
"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this," Ricky said, standing up and pacing as he drank, "sounds like, maybe, Calvin's gotten your goat more than you'd like him to."
"You have no idea. And you have no idea the lengths he'd go to to secure what he thinks are moral accomplishments. He has a strong idea of what is right and wrong but no objective way of knowing the difference, it seems. Frankly, I'm sick of dealing with his bullshit."
"Then why do you?"
"Because if I don't, who knows what else he'll do. He's already caused so much damage," Wyatt said, and this caught Ricky's interest. Ricky set his beer down on the table and pulled out his pad and pen, preparing to take a statement.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, "what has he done?"
This was what Wyatt had been waiting to do. Turn everything on Calvin over onto someone who could potentially hold him responsible for his actions. Now that he found himself at that precipice, however, could he go through with it? It would tear the whole thing wide open. It would potentially ruin Rachel's life as well. He didn't want that, especially after she'd already been dealing with her delusions as of late, the last thing she needed was some kind of legal trouble. And Celia...a single mom, taken from her child simply because of her somewhat distant involvement in the entire ordeal? Calvin had to be stopped, but at what cost to the others? Wyatt took a long drink and then shook his head.
"I'm not entirely sure I know the full extent of his actions, to be honest," Wyatt said.
"You can't just back down," Ricky said, approaching Wyatt, backing him up against the countertop, "if you know something, anything, that could hold him accountable for Grudin's death, or perhaps the airline crash, you could be saving more people than you think you are. I know you think you're doing the right thing, protecting those involved with you, but think of who he might hurt next."
"I do," Wyatt said sternly, "I think of it every goddamn day. Of what he might do to the next person he perceives as 'deserving it', even if it means hurting innocents. But I just..."
Wyatt trailed off, looking at the floor. He felt Ricky grab his shirt and hold him tightly against the counter, glaring at him. Wyatt panicked. He didn't know why he'd even agreed to this. He could've turned Ricky away, said nothing about anything. All he had was a vague, unsigned letter that really held no water whatsoever. Ricky gritted his teeth and stared into Wyatt's eyes.
"You don't even know what you're dealing with," Ricky hissed, "the people you've pissed off. If you want any shot of normalcy for the rest of your life, now is the time, because-"
But Ricky didn't get to finish his sentence, as he dropped like a rock to the floor. Standing behind him, holding a baseball bat, was Angie. Wyatts eyes ran from the investigator up to Angie, and his mind was at a loss for words. How did she even know he was here? How did she know to...but that's when it hit him.
"You sent it," he whispered, "you gave him that note."
"I've been following you for days since then, waiting for him to make his move," Angie said, handing Wyatt the bat, the very bat he'd once used in his high school baseball career; she stammered, adding, "I...I didn't...I didn't know what else to do. I knew we had to do something. I had to do something, to help you, I mean. He was gonna take you down, for things you didn't even do, that isn't right."
Wyatt kneeled down on the kitchen floor and picked up Ricky's wrist, feeling his pulse. He was alive. Wyatt then reached up and wiped his face, not realizing he had a smearing of blood on his hand. Wyatt then looked back up to Angie, and surprisingly, he smiled. She had, in fact, helped, even if it'd been in a way he hadn't wanted. He stood up, finished his beer, then turned back to Angie.
"We need to get him out of here," Wyatt said.
"Where can we take him?" Angie asked.
"I know a place," Wyatt replied.
Sitting on the stool, soldering metal together, Calvin heard a bang on the door of his shed and was surprised. His parents were gone, and it was - he checked his watch - 9pm at night, who could possibly be coming to visit? It might be Rachel, he figured, she liked to drop in often, but still, it seemed a bit too late for anyone to be coming over. Calvin groaned, got off the stool and then answered the door, surprised to see a disheveled Wyatt and a giddy looking Angie standing outside.
"...what the hell are you two doing here at this time?" Calvin asked.
"We need to hide a body," Wyatt said, and Calvin had to admit, that hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.
His folks were out for the evening, and thusly, he could do anything he wanted. He could anyway, he was a grown man after all, but still, living at home even in his late 30s, made him feel eternally like a child. First he watched some TV down in the living room, then he made a nice dinner for himself and ate at the table in the kitchen, basking in the uninterrupted silence he so rarely got these days. After this, he took a shower, and then he headed out to the shed in the backyard to work on fixing a small motor. Lately, he'd found, his hobbies were his only saving grace from the madness that was consuming his life, and he was ever so grateful for them. Sitting on the stool, soldering metal together, he heard a bang on the door and was surprised. His parents were gone, and it was - he checked his watch - 9pm at night, who could possibly be coming to visit? It might be Rachel, he figured, she liked to drop in often, but still, it seemed a bit too late for anyone to be coming over. Calvin groaned, got off the stool and then answered the door, surprised to see a disheveled Wyatt and a giddy looking Angie standing outside.
"...what the hell are you two doing here at this time?" Calvin asked.
"We need to hide a body," Wyatt said, and Calvin had to admit, that hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.
4 HOURS EARLIER
"There hasn't been any kind of innovation in the sandwich industry in years," Rachel said as she bit into her lunch and chewed, continuing while she did, "like, a sandwich is maybe one of the worlds oldest foods, and yet what was the last new sandwich? A sub?"
"I know that ciabatta bread wasn't invented until 1982, that's always been weird to me," Wyatt said, "that's way too late to be inventing new types of bread. But you're not wrong. The candy industry isn't stagnant. We're constantly getting new variations of candy bars. Maybe not new candy bars proper, but variations at the very least. So what's holding the sandwich industry up in their attempts to do anything fresh?"
Rachel swallowed, picked up her cup and took a long sip from her straw. She and Wyatt had met for lunch today simply because they hadn't seen one another in a bit, and Wyatt wanted to check in on her now that she was on proper medication. For what he could see, she was doing infinitely better. She seemed far less nervous and skittish. They were sitting in a little deli downtown, near Rachel's workplace, and each eating a sandwich.
"Things have seemed rather calm lately," Rachel said, "all things considered."
"They have, and frankly, I appreciate it," Wyatt replied, "like...I'm so sick of constantly having to scramble to fix something, it's nice to have times where absolutely nothing happens. Reminds me of my life before everything."
Rachel nodded in agreement.
"Has he come back yet?" she asked, and Wyatt shook his head.
"Surprisingly no," he said, "I was wholly expecting him to, he said he would. But so far he hasn't shown his face again, and honestly, that's for the better. Last thing I wanna deal with right now is a private investigator for an airline. I have enough on my plate as it is. But if he does, don't worry, you'll be the first to know. Well, ya know, outside me, cause I'll be the one dealing with it."
Rachel sighed, finished her sandwich and looked at her phone. It was about time for her to head back to work, and frankly, lately, she hadn't been annoyed by it. Work had been the only thing that was keeping her sane. Plus, she got to work with Sun Rai, and that was nice. To spend time with your partner in a non partner setting, just as coworkers, that was oddly comforting. Work was the only bit of normality she felt she had anymore. She wiped her hands on her jeans and exhaled.
"Well," she said, "hopefully he just recognizes there's nothing here for him to find, and he leaves town. Cause unless someone coughs something up, and nobody will, he won't have any information to report back with. I highly doubt Kelly's gonna tell him squat, especially since she didn't know about it when it happened."
"Here's to hopin'," Wyatt said, raising his cup to her. Rachel stood up, pulled her jacket back on, readjusted her apron and hugged Wyatt as he sat in his chair. She then exited the deli, leaving Wyatt alone with his food and his thoughts. As he continued eating, he thought about his children, his place of work, his relationship with his wife, and so much more. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could stomach the guilt of killing another person. Calvin had to be taken out for the greater good. But...but no. He just wasn't that kind of person. He could never pull the trigger. He took another bite and chewed, completely unawares that in the corner booth across the restaurant, Angie was watching him.
***
Calvin visited the graveyard that afternoon, bringing the monthly bouquets for his wife and daughter. He set them down on their respective headstones, then seated himself between them, listening to the birds sing and the soft low hum of the groundskeepers landscaping tools somewhere in the near distance. How ironic, he thought, the most peaceful place is the place you don't even get to experience the peacefulness of. He sighed and put his hand on his wifes stone.
"It's all fucked up," he said, "I'm all fucked up. You would hate the man I've become, and yet...I became this man because of losing you. The irony is not lost on me, I assure you. I want things to go back to how they were, but...but I'm not sure they ever can. I think we're too far gone at this point."
An older couple walked by, also holding flowers, clearly here to visit someone. Calvin watched as they went over the small hill and disappeared from sight before turning his vision towards his daughters headstone. He felt his eyes swell up with tears, and he didn't even try to not cry.
"At this point," he whispered, "all I want is to be with you both. I don't care about anything anymore. I've done such monstrous things in the name of misguided morality, and everyone is right, Wyatt is right...I'm a bad person. Now I just wanna rest. Now I just wanna be with you."
He exhaled and wiped his face clean with his arm, trying to regain what little composure he had left. What, really, did he have to stick around for? Everything was over. Sure, there was an investigator in town for the airline, but that wouldn't last. Otherwise, Brighton was gone, Grudin was dealt with and even Wattson was finished. Kelly had survived the entire ordeal, perhaps bouncing back even stronger than she'd been before, and so really, what good did it do anyone to have him stick around? His folks would be having a night out tonight, perhaps he would take advantage of it. Relax. Do some hobby work. Then do what everyone seemed to want him to do, and put an end to it all.
After all, what he really wanted was to be with his family again. Why deny himself that joy.
***
"Why can't I come to your moms group?" Wyatt asked, and Scarlett scoffed as she stood in front of her vanity mirror, applying eye makeup.
"Because you're not a mom?" she said, "pop out two kids and then come talk to me about membership."
"Wow, there's membership? This group really is classy," Wyatt said, shifting his weight on the end of the bed as he watched her do her makeup. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. Wyatt had always loved watching his wife apply makeup, he always found her at her most beautiful when she did the most seemingly mundane tasks. He sighed and let his hands hang down between his knees, saying quietly, "I don't wanna fight anymore."
"Me either," Scarlett said, turning to face him on her little stool, "I'm sick of arguing. We need to spend some time together. Get away for a bit or something. Maybe leave the kids with my parents and just...just go somewhere, you know?"
"That sounds like a good idea," Wyatt said. After she finished, she gathered Mona and their son and headed out with her child bag in hand, leaving Wyatt alone for the night. Wyatt stood in the empty foyer of the house, hands in his pockets, unsure what to do with himself. He turned and looked around at his surroundings, chewing on his lip. He could call Kelly, see if she wanted to go do something, or just hang out. Was that weird though? Going to hang out with another woman while your wife was away? She was just a friend though, so probably not. Suddenly a knock at the door roused him from his thoughts, and he quickly answered, surprised to find Ricky on the porch. Ricky removed his hat in a polite manner, grinning.
"Did you wait until my wife left to knock?" Wyatt asked, "that's a little creepy."
"Well, figure you wouldn't want any family around for this," Ricky said, as he tried to make his way into the house, but Wyatt continued to block the front door. Ricky sighed and, reaching into his coat, pulled out a paper, unfolding it and handing it to Wyatt. Wyatt read it, his eyes widening, before looking at Ricky, who just grinned. Wyatt then stepped aside, and allowed him to enter.
"Where did you get this? Who even wrote it?" Wyatt asked, and Ricky shrugged.
"No idea, it was just left on the doorstep of my motel room," Ricky said, "And while I don't claim it to mean anything concrete, I would be a pretty bad investigator if I didn't at least look into it."
"This says nothing, honestly, this could've just been written by someone wanting to cause me grief," Wyatt said, shaking the paper, "there's literally nothing in here that could be construed as any kind of proof of guilt. It's the most vague thing I've ever read, honestly."
"If it's so meaningless why are you so vehemently defending your innocence?" Ricky asked, "just asking."
Wyatt opened his mouth to say something else, then just as quickly shut it. He didn't want to bury himself in a deeper hole. Ricky smiled and continued looking at the photos in the foyer, admiring Wyatt's family. Wyatt wanted to scream. Who would've done this? Who would've tried to pin everything on him? Calvin? No, even he wouldn't stoop this low, would he?
"So," Ricky said, holding a school portrait of Mona, "anything you want to admit to?"
Wyatt sighed, knowing he had no choice. He'd been put in a corner, and he knew it was time to come clean. He just hoped everyone would understand.
***
Rachel and Sun Rai had ordered in food that night, as neither didn't want to cook after working all day, and were planning for the next few days while they lounged on the couch, eating and watching TV on mute. Sun was debating whether or not to go see her father, because he'd be in the hospital for a week or so, and she was worried that if she didn't see him beforehand, she wouldn't be able to stomach going while he was there, despite having been a nurse. Rachel slurped some noodles off her chopsticks and shrugged.
"Whatever you decide you know I'll support," she said, "but forgive me if I don't really know how to respond. When you don't really have parents, it kind of makes giving advice to those who do a bit harder."
"That's fair," Sun Rai said, stabbing some shrimp with a fork, adding, "you know, you could come with me. They'd love you. They aren't, like, super supportive exactly, but once they got to know you, they'd love you. My mom already kind of likes you as it is. You're growing on them. Plus I could use the support."
"I could handle that," Rachel said, smiling, putting a hand on Sun Rai's thigh.
They continued eating for a bit, watching some commercials, until Rachel set her things down on the coffee table and exhaled, leaning back into the couch and running her hands through her long hair.
"I've actually been thinking about going to see my own parents," she said, "I just...even if I have to twist their arms, I'd like them to try and get along with me. I don't like not having family. It bums me out severely. I was thinking maybe we could schedule a dinner that we could go to together, or maybe go to their house cause my mom loves to cook. Maybe if we just...ya know...get in there, let them see me, us, for who we are, then-"
"Don't put all your eggs in one basket," Sun Rai said, "I just...I don't want you to be let down."
Rachel knew the likelihood of her parents accepting her were slim to none, but she figured she still had to try, if for no other reason than to at least be able to say she was the one who tried. Rachel slumped back down into the couch and crossed her arms, leaning into Sun Rai, who stroked her hair. Maybe Sun Rai was right, she should tone down her hopes. But lately, it felt like hope was all she had left.
***
"Thank you," Ricky said, as Wyatt handed him a beer from the fridge. Wyatt pulled his own out and they both popped the lids before taking a drink. Wyatt leaned against the counter and sighed, shaking his head. Where to even begin? Where to start?
"Probably best to start at the beginning, I guess," he said, "though at this point it's hard to put my finger on what exactly was the beginning. There's so much it all just blends together now."
"That's fine, just take your time, I'm in no rush," Ricky said, lifting his beer to his lips.
Wyatt didn't know what to say. Robert Grudin felt like the right starting point, but for that, he'd need to contextualize the necessity that brought about his death, meaning starting with Calvin and his family being killed by Grudin's carelessness. God, so much set up. He felt like he was trying to recite a novel. Wyatt took a long drink and then wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve.
"I guess," Wyatt started, "...I guess it started with our high school reunion. Our friend, Calvin, he was there in body only, not in spirit. He'd already lost everything that mattered to him. Robert Grudin saw to that. Killing his family in a headon collision brought on by driving under the influence and then not taking responsibility for the fact. Everything is Calvin's fault. I mean, that's not fair, we all had a hand in it, but...but it all stemmed from him. His rage and his...his thirst for justice. Never seemed to occur to Calvin that maybe justice just isn't something we all get, or that by hurting others he was lowering himself to their level. He seems to have this superiority complex about him, that everything he does is justified."
"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this," Ricky said, standing up and pacing as he drank, "sounds like, maybe, Calvin's gotten your goat more than you'd like him to."
"You have no idea. And you have no idea the lengths he'd go to to secure what he thinks are moral accomplishments. He has a strong idea of what is right and wrong but no objective way of knowing the difference, it seems. Frankly, I'm sick of dealing with his bullshit."
"Then why do you?"
"Because if I don't, who knows what else he'll do. He's already caused so much damage," Wyatt said, and this caught Ricky's interest. Ricky set his beer down on the table and pulled out his pad and pen, preparing to take a statement.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, "what has he done?"
This was what Wyatt had been waiting to do. Turn everything on Calvin over onto someone who could potentially hold him responsible for his actions. Now that he found himself at that precipice, however, could he go through with it? It would tear the whole thing wide open. It would potentially ruin Rachel's life as well. He didn't want that, especially after she'd already been dealing with her delusions as of late, the last thing she needed was some kind of legal trouble. And Celia...a single mom, taken from her child simply because of her somewhat distant involvement in the entire ordeal? Calvin had to be stopped, but at what cost to the others? Wyatt took a long drink and then shook his head.
"I'm not entirely sure I know the full extent of his actions, to be honest," Wyatt said.
"You can't just back down," Ricky said, approaching Wyatt, backing him up against the countertop, "if you know something, anything, that could hold him accountable for Grudin's death, or perhaps the airline crash, you could be saving more people than you think you are. I know you think you're doing the right thing, protecting those involved with you, but think of who he might hurt next."
"I do," Wyatt said sternly, "I think of it every goddamn day. Of what he might do to the next person he perceives as 'deserving it', even if it means hurting innocents. But I just..."
Wyatt trailed off, looking at the floor. He felt Ricky grab his shirt and hold him tightly against the counter, glaring at him. Wyatt panicked. He didn't know why he'd even agreed to this. He could've turned Ricky away, said nothing about anything. All he had was a vague, unsigned letter that really held no water whatsoever. Ricky gritted his teeth and stared into Wyatt's eyes.
"You don't even know what you're dealing with," Ricky hissed, "the people you've pissed off. If you want any shot of normalcy for the rest of your life, now is the time, because-"
But Ricky didn't get to finish his sentence, as he dropped like a rock to the floor. Standing behind him, holding a baseball bat, was Angie. Wyatts eyes ran from the investigator up to Angie, and his mind was at a loss for words. How did she even know he was here? How did she know to...but that's when it hit him.
"You sent it," he whispered, "you gave him that note."
"I've been following you for days since then, waiting for him to make his move," Angie said, handing Wyatt the bat, the very bat he'd once used in his high school baseball career; she stammered, adding, "I...I didn't...I didn't know what else to do. I knew we had to do something. I had to do something, to help you, I mean. He was gonna take you down, for things you didn't even do, that isn't right."
Wyatt kneeled down on the kitchen floor and picked up Ricky's wrist, feeling his pulse. He was alive. Wyatt then reached up and wiped his face, not realizing he had a smearing of blood on his hand. Wyatt then looked back up to Angie, and surprisingly, he smiled. She had, in fact, helped, even if it'd been in a way he hadn't wanted. He stood up, finished his beer, then turned back to Angie.
"We need to get him out of here," Wyatt said.
"Where can we take him?" Angie asked.
"I know a place," Wyatt replied.
Sitting on the stool, soldering metal together, Calvin heard a bang on the door of his shed and was surprised. His parents were gone, and it was - he checked his watch - 9pm at night, who could possibly be coming to visit? It might be Rachel, he figured, she liked to drop in often, but still, it seemed a bit too late for anyone to be coming over. Calvin groaned, got off the stool and then answered the door, surprised to see a disheveled Wyatt and a giddy looking Angie standing outside.
"...what the hell are you two doing here at this time?" Calvin asked.
"We need to hide a body," Wyatt said, and Calvin had to admit, that hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.