True Colors

“For what it matters, my mom is certain it was him.”

“And I’m certain it wasn’t. But I know your mom isn’t lying. Please tell her that. I just believe she’s mistaken.”

“That won’t help, but I’ll tell her.”

Winona nodded. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she got up. “Well, I—”

He took her by the hand. “I miss you. Do you think we could try it again?”

Winona was surprised by that. She turned slightly and looked at him, really looked, and what she saw was a man she’d liked once, and wanted to love, but never had. It freed something in her, that unexpected realization. She’d seen love in that courtroom when Dallas looked at Vivi Ann, and Winona knew that was what she wanted. She wouldn’t accept a watered-down version ever again. “No,” she said, making her voice a little soft. “We didn’t fall in love,” she said. “But I want to be friends, if you do.”

He smiled, maybe even looked a little relieved. “Friends with benefits?”

Winona laughed at that, thinking how good it felt to be wanted, and how empowering it was to say quietly, “I don’t think so.”

Winona stared down at the latest court case on the unreliability of hair analysis, wondering if it was enough for an appeal.

Her intercom buzzed.

“Winona? Vivi Ann is here to see you.”

Winona sighed. “Send her in.” Getting up, she went over to the window and stared out. The backyard reflected the change in seasons. Deep autumn jewel tones had replaced the summer’s brightness. The petunias were ragged and tired, the roses leggy and untamed. Summer was gone and she’d hardly noticed.

In the months since her loss in court she hadn’t noticed anything, really. Instead of curing her obsession, the loss had inflamed it. She couldn’t seem to let go of the image of Dallas in prison. And her weekly visits weren’t helping. Dallas had given up completely, if in fact he’d ever actually believed in hope.

“Hey, Win.”

“Ironic that my nickname is Win, don’t you think?” she said, not looking at her sister. She should have picked up her office. Now Vivi Ann was seeing the reams of Post-it-tagged paper, the file folders lying open.

“This all about Dallas?” she asked.

Winona nodded. Lying was something they didn’t do anymore. “Transcripts, police reports, depositions, interrogation notes.” She knew she should shut up, but that was the problem with an addiction: you couldn’t control it or yourself when under its influence. “It’s everything. I’ve read it all so many times I’m going blind. There’s so much that was wrong—the tattoo, the lack of real investigation, the rush to judgment, Roy’s ridiculously inadequate defense, the DNA—but none of it means anything legally. Even though it means everything.”

“I know.”

“You knew it all along.”

“I didn’t just give up on him,” she said quietly. “I spent years believing in a good ending.”

Winona finally looked at her sister. “I failed him. And Noah. And you.”

“You didn’t fail him,” Vivi Ann said. “Sometimes we just can’t save the people we love.”

Winona didn’t know how to live in a world where that was true; she also knew she had no real choice. “How is Noah doing?”

“Not good. He keeps skipping school. Last week he flipped off his science teacher.”

“Mr. Parker?”

“Of course. If I remember, Aurora once did the same thing.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“And tell him what?”

“That I’m not giving up.”

“You think that’s what he needs to hear?”