True Colors

“You made it over here in record time,” he said.

“I’ve been waiting years for this phone call, haven’t I? Haven’t we?”

“Oh,” Roy said, frowning. “I should have thought of that.”

“Though of what?”

“What you’d think.”

Vivi Ann felt herself tensing. “You called to tell me his federal appeal has been granted, right?”

“Technically it’s a writ of habeus corpus, but no, that’s not my news.”

Behind her, Noah’s voice grew louder, as did the clacking together of his dinosaurs, but Vivi Ann couldn’t hear much of anything over the sudden roar of white noise in her head. “What is your news?”

“I’m sorry, Vivi Ann. We were denied again.”

Slowly she closed her eyes. How could she have been so naïve? What was wrong with her? She knew better than to believe in hope. She took a deep breath, released it, and looked at him.

She knew she looked calm and composed, as if this new setback were just another bump in a bad stretch of road. She wouldn’t let herself fall apart until tonight. She’d had years of practice at waiting, pretending, hiding. “May I have a glass of water?”

“Sure. It’s right there.”

She got up, walked carefully to the pitcher of water set up on the sideboard. Pouring herself a glass, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of pills, swallowing them before she turned around. “Does Dallas know?”

“Yesterday,” Roy said.

Vivi Ann sat down, hoping the numbness would come fast. She couldn’t stand what she was feeling. “What now? Who do we appeal to?”

“I’ve done everything I can on his case, pled every argument, filed every motion, sought every appeal. I’m not a public defender anymore—you know that. I’ve been doing all this pro bono, but there’s nothing more I can do. You could get another lawyer, say I was incompetent, and hell, maybe I was. I would help you in that if you wanted.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Vivi. I just know we’re done now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that.” She heard the shrill desperation in her voice, the sharp edge of anger, and tried to soften it with a smile. “I’ve been hearing that for years, from everyone. I’m tired of it. We need you, Roy, to prove his innocence.”

Roy glanced away.

In that furtive look, Vivi Ann saw something. “Roy? What is it?”

“Nothing. I just . . . had a heart-to-heart with Dallas this week. Finally.”

“You know he’s innocent, right, Roy? You’ve said it to me a million times.”

“I really can’t comment on that anymore.”

Now she was afraid. Was Roy implying that Dallas had confessed to him? She got to her feet and stood there, looking down at him. “I can’t take this shit, Roy. Please. Don’t screw with my head.”

He looked up slowly, his eyes sad. “Talk to Dallas, Vivi Ann. I’ve made arrangements for you at the prison for tomorrow.”

“That’s it? That’s what you have for me after all these years?”

“I’m sorry.”

She spun away and went to Noah, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the office and down the steps and into the truck.

All the way home, she replayed it in her head, trying to change it, soften it. At Aurora’s house, she shoved Noah at her sister, saying, “I can’t deal with him tonight.”

She heard Aurora calling out to her, telling her to come back, but she didn’t care. Fear was like a great black beast standing in her peripheral vision and she was desperate to get away, to get numb.

When she finally got home, she slammed the door shut behind her and went straight to the medicine cabinet. She took too many pills—who cared? anything to numb the pain—and washed them down with tequila.