Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
She teared up again but giggled. “I don’t know when you’ll be out, but when you are I’ll help you any way I can, Xavier. A place to stay, money, a job… I’ll share everything I have with you.”
“Don’t worry about me, darlin’. I’m not alone. Even in here, my brothers are looking out for me.”
Her eyes widened. “They are?”
I grinned. “Yeah. Do you have a pen and paper?”
“Yeah.” She shifted in her seat and pulled out a small notebook from her back pocket. “One of the perks of being a writer. I’ve always got something to write with and on.” She held up a… crayon? At my confused look she grinned. “I’m not allowed to bring sharp objects in here. I have to wait sometimes, so I brought something to write with. Just in case.”
I just chuckled. She was too sweet for words. “I’m going to give you a phone number. Keep it with you. If you ever need anything, call that number. Tell whoever answers you’re a friend of Xavier’s.” I gave her the number. She jotted it down, then repeated the number back to me. “Good. When I say anything, Tillie, I mean if you’re short on gas money or need groceries, if you don’t feel safe for any reason, anything at all you need, you call that number. They will come to you, no questions asked.”
“Why?” She glanced at the clock frantically, using every minute she could. “Why would you do all this, sacrifice a big part of your life? Give me a number if I need help? For me?”
I didn’t flinch. “Why not you? Could have been anyone on that street, but it was you. It was me. You needed something I could help with, so I provided.”
“Xavier, I swear, no matter what happens to either of us in the future, I will never forget what you did for me. I’ll pay it forward as best I can and I’ll make your sacrifice count. And I will never, ever not come to see you. I owe you my life! The least I can do is come visit.”
It should have sounded like a cheesy movie, but the sincerity in her voice and her tears were heart-melting. “You just keep writin’ your stories. Live your dream.”
“Your time is up. Please exit to your right.” The automated voice cut us off, but Tillie sat there, her hand still against mine with the glass between us. She hung up the phone and kept her gaze on me for long moments.
She turned her head and nodded at someone, then looked back at me. “Thank you.” I couldn’t hear her, but I read her lips easily enough. I nodded at her and hung up my phone.
Tillie never left the cubby before I left the room. I imagined she wanted every possible second with me. I touched the glass under her palm once more then turned and left.
It was Saturday afternoon. Tillie always came on Saturdays. Every week since I’d gone to prison, without fail. I always told her not to come. Since the first time she showed up, I tried to get her to stay away for her own good. But she kept showing up. And I soaked up each visit like a sponge to water.
As I approached the guard, I looked back over my shoulder one last time at Tillie. I had to top off my fix of looking at her. It could be the last time I ever saw her. One day, she would take my advice to heart. I just wasn’t sure what I was going to do when she did.
Chapter Two
Tillie
I wished with all my heart I could have met Xavier in another life. Or, at least before I’d met Paul St. Martin. Paul had been charismatic, handsome, and way out of my league. But we’d met at church and my parents had loved him. Mostly because he had money and owned a local meat processing plant. My father thought Paul was his path to easy street. My mother thought her standing with the church women would rise.
I let them push me toward him, never seeing the monster hiding under his charming exterior. The worst part was that no one believed me when I told them he’d hurt me. At least, I’d thought it was the worst part. I found out how wrong I was when word got back to him of my accusations.
I shook the memory. The very last person I wanted to think about today was Paul. Saturdays were my happy days. I got to spend an hour talking with Xavier. There was always the glass between us, but it still felt personal. He’d sacrificed everything to free me from hell. Me. A stranger he’d come across on the road during a raging storm. The least I could do was come visit him once a week.