Page 42 of Fall onto me

They slap cuffs on my wrist, then his, and turn us around.

Lying on the bridge are dozens of plastic bricks.

A man in his fifties gestures to them, his hair as white as the substance on the end of a blade. “Whose is this?”

“We just rented this boat.”

“Paperwork?”

“It’s in my wallet, my emails too.” Foster’s tone is calm, unnerved. I’m worried that if I speak that I’ll burst into tears, so I don’t, and he doesn’t attempt too.

“Then where did it come from?”

“I’m not sure, but why would I have this much cocaine and be sitting out here anchored up with my girlfriend?”

The officer nods, coming closer. His nametag reads ‘Marks’. Marks places his hands on his hips like he’s speaking to an unruly child. “You expect me to believe that ten pounds of cocaine were just already on the ship, they belong to someone else, and it was rented out?”

“That’s exactly what happened.”

“So, it’s not yours?” Marks asks.

Foster doesn’t falter. “No.”

A few officers on the ship shake their heads. “You can explain that to the judge.” He grips the dangling metal between Foster’s hands and shoves him forward.

Another officer walks behind me and removes my cuffs. “I’m not under arrest?”

“Do you want to be?” the officer sighs.

Foster shakes his head. “She didn’t do anything, and neither did I.”

The officer nods. “Yes, we know Skyler’s father. The Johnsons go way back in the force.” He looks at me, his expression morphing from an angry officer to a kind protector of our city. “My advice to you, stay away from this fucking low-life.”

Did my father do this to him?

I look to the officer, and with as much grit as I can put behind my terrified voice, I say, “He didn’t do this.”

He ignores me and continues talking as I watch them take my boyfriend away from me.

As Foster is escorted from the boat, he looks back at me, obsidian eyes drowning in sorrow. He mouths the words:

‘Love of my life.’

* * *

After they took Foster,I was a sitting duck, in the middle of the ocean with cops who tore apart the entire ship looking for drugs. They even confiscated our picnic basket, and no matter how much I screamed, pleaded, and yelled that we had nothing to do with this, they looked at me like I was just a stupid young girl who got roped in with the wrong crowd.

I was driven back to the dock, alone, with nothing, by one of their small boats. My first instinct was the find the sweet old man and interrogate him by any means to find out the truth, but he was nowhere, and I was alone.

Is this how Foster felt when I went back to my parents’ house? Like I was in a prison that he couldn’t save me from?

The difference for me is, I had the choice to walk away, and Foster doesn’t. I can’t even begin to think about how long this charge would be, and I don’t need to talk to anyone until I get ahold of Foster.

The warm sunny day turns to a cool dark night as I camp out in front of the police station. It isn’t until eleven when they inform me that I’ll be considered a trespasser if I don’t leave and that visitor hours will begin for Foster after he goes in front of a judge.

I don’t want to wallow in the sorrow of our new, unpredictable, terrifying future. I know it’s not something we’re supposed to think about, but as I lie in his bed alone with my tears soaking his pillow, it’s all I can think about.

All I can dream about.

---