Page 57 of Good and Gone

“Yes,” he says, checking his watch. “But everything in life is a risk.”

“Great.” Having gotten what I came for, I stand to go.

Kenneth stands as well. “Oh—by the way—” He runs his hands through his hair, like he isn’t sure what to do with them. “I hate to ask, but do you think your mother could drive Reese to school this morning? I have an early call.”

“No problem,” I say, and it’s like everything has changed and nothing has. “But I’ll be driving them today.”

40

Tyler

My thoughts are in overdrive, racing through the possibilities. What is she doing? Maybe it’s better not to know. Judging by the look on her face, you’d think she sold our children’s kidneys to fund an acrylic nails habit. But knowing Hailey, and the strong, stubborn type-A she is, I’m guessing she’s just standing there wondering whether she’s making the right decision. Not in the act itself, but in leaving her wallet—leavingidentificationclose by. On the one hand, she wants there to be proof. On the other, she knows that the things we lose are not always better off found.

I watch as she paces back and forth several times, wearing the grass thin under her feet, finally deciding thatyes,this is the right decision and it’s a good thing, too. This is not the time for second thoughts.

We’ve been over and over it, and despite her doubts, I know she doesn’t want our family to go through the hell we went through the last time she disappeared, and believe me, neither do I. Still, there’s something in her demeanor I don’t like. Maybe it’s the way she’s chewing at her bottom lip. It makes me think this could go either way. Can I trust her?

God, let’s hope.

I know she thinks it would have been better if she’d never have been found, but she’s wrong.

My watch buzzes.Sixty-eight seconds.

Obviously, some will say what I'm about to do is dangerous. Stupid, even. They'll say it's like walking naked through a den of lions. I know this. But what other choice do I have?

I will not let my family continue living this nightmare.

I know Hailey is worried about the fallout, about the repercussions, but I say, who cares? People can have their opinions. Like I told Hailey—they sit in the comfort of their homes, typing behind keyboards,armchair quarterbacks. Fuck ’em. They don’t know what it’s like to be hunted. The phone calls in the middle of the night where no one is on the other end of the line, the random drive-bys where they rev their engines, the people who occasionally follow my in-laws, I don’t think these are coincidences. I believe what that girl told my wife.

And these men who are terrorizing my family? It’s not like they're going to stop. It’s not like I can just call them over for a polite conversation, and we can shake hands and agree to go our separate ways. That’s not the kind of game they play. They’ll never leave us alone.

Even though we rehearsed this fake-suicide yesterday, down to the minute, I’m still not sure Hailey is ready. She gave it her best shot. Physically, she was here, but mentally she was checked out.

We argued on the way home. She told me she might as well actually do it. She said we’d be better off without her, then the kids and I could move on from the sideshow our lives have become. She spoke as though life would just return to normal, as if it was no big deal having a dead mother.

This morning she seems to be in better spirits. I think being followed to the school helped. It shook her up, and she realized we need her. The kids need her. I think she realized bad things can always happen, whether she is here to watch them or not.

The thunderous roar of the train in the distance causes my stomach to leap into my throat. It reminds me the clock is ticking. She needs to move.

I look at her and nod. It’s a look that reminds her I have left nothing to chance. Roughly two hundred and some odd people commit suicide by railway every year. I’ve learned a lot in reading about many of those accounts.

Forty-two seconds.

She lays the note in the grass, along with her wallet and her sweater. She told me it can be comforting for young children if you leave behind something with your scent, and I knew it would be perfect. If she drops the sweater, it’s a go. If not, we will try again tomorrow. She drops the sweater.

Twenty-seven seconds.

I watch as she takes a step back and rolls her shoulders. I can see that she’s nervous, but who wouldn’t be? Her eyes linger on the wallet and sweater and I worry that she’s going to pull something. I worry she has another idea in mind. She wouldn’t do that to me, surely.Would she?The ground beneath my feet rumbles. As the train's wheels roll over the tracks, the engine sounds like a car crash. The horn blares. I’m expecting it, but still it makes me jump.

My watch vibrates.Twenty-two seconds.

She looks at me, squatting in the bushes, and I shake my head.It’s too soon.

I ask myself what happens if I can’t go through with this. Although, a better question would be:What happens if I don’t do this? What happens if I continue to put myself and my family through this?

I know the answer to that, and it’s more horrifying than facing prison; it’s possibly even worse than dying.

The thought of never getting to walk my daughter down the aisle or watch my son hit a home run causes a gnawing in the pit of my stomach. Being a disappointment to my old man makes me sick. The thought of never hearing her laugh again makes my heart ache.

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