Donuts and Handcuffs

Sure, there was a doctor-patient confidentiality arrangement, but I wasn’t about to trust a stranger with my life. I wouldn’t even trust a witness protection program. I was fairly certain that nobody from my past would ever come after me, but I wanted to be as far removed from all of that as possible.

I wasn’t the sort of person to reveal other people’s secrets. It wasn’t my business. Most of the crimes were non-violent, and victimless, except for the insurance companies. For the things that weren’t insured, I couldn’t exactly cry a river about incredibly rich people being slightly less rich.

Although my moral compass was on point now, and I didn’t commit any serious crimes myself, I was too close to too much to draw clear lines at the time.

Running to another city, assuming a new name, and creating a new life told anyone from my past that I was gone. They all knew that if they messed with me, I could easily expose them. Better to live and let live.

But it was hard to live when I had to constantly think of memories to share that didn’t involve my parents using me as bait to run a scam, or an ex-boyfriend who had stashed a lot of ill-gotten merchandise in our apartment that I discovered as I was moving out.

My happiest memories were mostly in the kitchen. My family always left me alone when I was baking. They didn’t want flour in the electronics. They didn’t want anything exposed to heat, or sugar sprinkles.

So if I wanted to keep them away from me, I just had to pull out a few mixing bowls and they would scurry off to the basement.

It also made me feel wholesome, in a world where my brother was in danger of going to juvy at sixteen, jail at eighteen, or possibly worse at any time. The easiest way to make sure that teachers didn’t judge me on the actions of my brother was to pretend I was not related to him. Nobody would have guessed that the sweet little girl who made cupcakes for every school charity drive could possibly be related to Joel Lake, who always disrupted the classes he bothered coming to.

It wasn’t my fault that I was born into a twisted family, and grew up with warped people. Now that I was fully in control, I chose the right path. I just had to avoid all people who could possibly trace where the nice straight line of my new footprints came from.

Throwing myself into my work, my arm throbbed. Weirdly, I sort of appreciated the pain. It gave me one clear feeling. Real. The pain was a point of focus, that somehow gave me something sensible to worry about.

I tried to find ways to keep my arm still while catching up on the workload, but finally gave up when the ache became too bad.

That night in bed alone, the pain didn’t even begin to compare to the strange heavy crushing sensation in my chest. My heart actually ached for Daniel. I wanted to reach out and have him here with me.

My logical, linear, results-oriented mind shoved every usual train of thought right off the rails. I needed Daniel in my life. Being near him made me feel grounded. The only time this apartment has felt like a home was when he was here with me.

It took me two days to gain the courage to speak with him. I couldn’t be a coward, but I needed to make sure that both of us were calm. There were times to jump in and act with your guts, and there were times to let things settle first.

Daniel seemed to be a guy who saw things as very strictly right or wrong. I didn’t know if he had any inkling about my past, or that I was the one who procured evidence through sketchy means, but I knew something was off. Like browning lemon tarts, it was all in the timing.

The shock I had seen in his eyes when I ran into him on the street was more than surprise. There was something far more intense in his gaze. It was time to find out the worst, if that’s what it was.

As I pulled out my phone, trying to figure out what to say to him, a wave of emotion rolled through me. I wanted to come clean with him. I didn’t want to hide anymore. I wanted to be able to tell him everything, and be my true self.

That was absolutely mental, but it was genuinely how I felt. It was like cranking a spotlight in my brain that reached to the far corners. I wanted so badly to be good for him. Even if it was taking a hell of a huge risk.

I texted Daniel, “Hi, would you like to pop by for a coffee after work?”

His response came in seconds. “Sure. See you just after six.”

I was restless and unfocused for the remainder of the day. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t concentrate. Finally I just locked up the shop and went home to take a quick shower.

Falling water usually made me calm. This time it didn’t work very well. The thought of losing Daniel was worse than the thought I might be caught for what I was trying to think of as my minor indiscretion.

Running on pure instinct, I dressed in a light, flowery dress. Perhaps looking extra feminine was playing dirty, but I wanted him to see me in the role of the good girl.

The voice of my mother reminding me to always look precisely the part I was playing rang through my mind. Be the correct role, or be invisible.

I didn’t want to play any more games. I wanted to play the part of my own true self, and perhaps Daniel’s girlfriend. Not just as a symbol of my new life. Because I needed to be with him. I wanted a real, healthy relationship with this amazing man.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When Daniel arrived, I felt completely awkward, as if we were back to the first time we ran into each other. He was out of uniform, thank goodness. His eyes were drawn to my desk, as he seemed to hesitate.

“Hand me one of those envelopes, could you please?” His voice sounded strange. Tight.

I turned to reach for what he needed, then my heart dropped a hundred feet, pulling my soul with it. The large recycled paper envelopes were light, with a seedy recycled fleck. The ones I’d used to drop off the evidence. The envelopes I’d completely forgotten were from a tiny organic specialty paper place in the town where I lived several years ago.

I couldn’t believe that I’d made such a stupid, amateur mistake. I knew better. I’d used a damp paper towel to seal the envelope, a public place miles away to print the documents. I knew that only the blandest, mundane supplies should ever be used. Why on earth would I space on something like that? Maybe I didn’t have my father’s voice in my ear as much as I’d thought.