Promises
Panicked, Jamal attempted to rise but found both hands bound.
His head, legs and shoulder ached. He squinted through the darkness but couldn’t make out where he was.
The smell of something sweet let him know where he wasn’t.
He adjusted, feeling the softness of the bed beneath him.
Resting his head on the pillow, Jamal felt himself slipping back into a slumber but a noise in another room brought him back.
“Anybody there?”
Moments later, a man entered with a bowl and glass of water.
“Finally up, I see.”
Jamal sat up as much as he could with the restraints. “Can you take these off?”
“No.” The man set the dishes on a bedside table.
“Why not?”
“According to the news, you’re armed and dangerous, Mr. Johnson.”
“I made the news?”
“You and your two friends.”
“They’re not…”
The man cut him off. “Hungry?”
“Very.”
“I made oatmeal.”
Jamal winced.
“What’s wrong?”
“My shoulder.”
Unbuttoning the oversized shirt, the man pulled it away from Jamal’s body. “Which one?”
Painfully, Jamal lifted his right shoulder. Inspecting it, the man determined it was only bruised. He adjusted the pillows behind Jamal and asked if he was comfortable.
“Yes. Thank you, sir.”
“Santiago.”
“Thank you, Mr. Santiago.”
“Just Santiago.”
Santiago pulled up a chair and grabbed the bowl. Silently, Santiago fed Jamal. Afterwards he gave Jamal the water. Jamal thanked him and asked for a second glass. When Santiago returned, Jamal had his eyes closed again.
“Do you remember anything from last night?”
Jamal’s eyes popped open as he sat up to drink the water. “Bits and pieces, we decided to split up in the woods. I thought to hitchhike…”
Santiago set the glass down and returned to the chair. “Anything else?”
Jamal shook his head. “Did you offer me a ride?”
“No.”
“How’d I end up here then?”
Santiago waved the question away. “Doesn’t matter.”
“If you knew who I was, why didn’t you turn me in?”
“I have my reasons.”
A smile appeared on Jamal’s face. “Ah, I see.”
“What’s that you see?”
Jamal wiggled his hips before licking his lips. “Untie me; I’ll make it worth your while.”
Santiago frowned. “Don’t do that. I’m old enough to be your dad.”
“Come on, papi. I saw how you looked at me when you took my shirt off.”
“Enough!”
“Sorry.”
Santiago sighed before revealing how the pair had crossed paths.
“I was driving home from a bar one town over, feeling good. Had one hand on the wheel and another on a bottle of vodka then all of a sudden something appeared in the middle of the road. I hit the brakes but it was too late…”
“I remember! The truck, the blinding lights, the screeching!”
Santiago apologized. “When I realized I’d hit someone…and not something, I rushed out, and in a panic, scooped you up, moaning and bloody, and tossed you in my truck.”
“You didn’t call 911 because you’d been drinking?”
“It would be my third DUI…”
“I’m glad you didn’t call.”
Santiago momentarily disappeared, reimagining Jamal darting from the tree line so suddenly. “You were the deer in headlights…”
“…that you’re nursing back to health.”
“Yeah, before…”
“You turn me in?”
Santiago brought a hand up to stop Jamal. “I haven’t thought that far.”
Both became quiet, Jamal adjusting in the bed while Santiago got lost in his thoughts. A knock at the door caused Jamal’s eyes to widen. Santiago glanced at his watch and eased back in the chair.
“Do you think it’s the cops?”
“No.”
“Who is it then?”
“It’s not the police.”
Jamal nodded, knowingly. “Ah, that’s why you don’t want to screw. You have someone.”
“It’s the mailman.”
“This early in the morning?”
“Perceptive, aren’t you?”
“I have to be.”
Santiago shared that he had a thing with the postal carrier. They shared coffee and cuddles on the couch that would sometimes lead to something more. It was casual, something they both agreed to and enjoyed.
“And to be clear, I don’t want to screw, because you could be my son.”
“Do you have a son?”
Santiago shook his head.
“Do you know how many dirty old men I’ve been with?”
Santiago was taken aback but tried not to show it.
“Not saying you’re a dirty old man.”
“Glad to know…”
“For what it’s worth, you don’t look a day over forty.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
A knock at the bedroom window startled them both.
“Santi, I see your truck in the garage. It looks wrecked. Are you okay?”
Santiago darted to the window, peeked through the curtains, and pointed. Quickly closing the blinds, Santiago told Jamal to relax and that he would be right back. Jamal nodded.
Five minutes later, Santiago returned.
“Everything cool?”
“Yes.” Santiago added, “He warned me there were two fugitives on the loose and to be careful.”
“Two? I wonder who they caught.”
“We know who they didn’t.”
“Did you tell him about me?”
“No, but he’ll be back later for lunch.”
Santiago watched the tension leave Jamal’s body as he sunk into the bed.
“Are those scars on your arm and chest from bullet wounds?”
“Yeah…”
“So, you’ve been shot. You were in prison for attempted murder. Dios Mio! You’re so young!”
“I’m not that young.”
“You can’t be more than twenty-five.”
Jamal held up two fingers on one hand and three on the other.
“How did you end up in this situation?”
“Which one?”
“The current one.”
Jamal shrugged. “How much time you have?”
“Enough for an abridged version.”
With a deep breath, Jamal started, “Home life was shit so I’d sneak out whenever I could. I ended up running the streets with hooligans…”
“Gotcha.”
Jamal continued, sharing how he’d fallen in love with a drug dealer that hung around the corner store near his parent’s apartment. It was purely an accident but by the time Jamal realized what had happened, he was too deep into the man’s orbit and madness.
They would sneak around town, smoke in the park after dark and stare at the stars together, imagining their lives differently.
They’d sleep with each other behind abandoned buildings or in the backseat of the man’s sedan.
He didn’t put his hands on Jamal like his stepfather or call him demeaning names.
The relationship was everything Jamal felt he needed.
That was until his friend got jumped by some rivals and he was asked to kill the ringleader.
“Why me?” Jamal had asked.
“No one will suspect your baby face walking up and blasting them.”
“But…”
“You love me, right? Don’t I keep you in fresh Jordans?”
“Enough of that.” Jamal shook the memories away.
“I’m sorry you went through that.”
“It was what it was.” Jamal adjusted uncomfortably in the bed. “Can you free one of my arms?”
Santiago eyed him before standing. “Promise you won’t try anything.”
“I promise.”
Pulling a switchblade from his pocket, Santiago cut the rope from one wrist, freeing Jamal from the bedpost. He sat, but kept the knife in his lap.
“Don’t make me regret my decision.”
Jamal sat up, still propped up by a plethora of pillows. “I won’t.”
As Jamal thanked him, Santiago silently prayed the young man wouldn’t force him to violence.
“What do you do for a living?”
“Manager at the Piggly Wiggly.”
“You like it?”
“It pays the bills.”
“You can afford this house from your check at a grocery store?”
“The house is paid for.”
“Nice.”
Jamal admitted he wanted a home one day, maybe a long-term thing similar to Santiago and the postman. He could see a mini-Jamal or Jasmine in his future. Santiago smiled while listening, but something else was on his heart that needed addressing.
“Those dreams sound wonderful, but the path you’re on will only lead…”
“…to prison or an early grave, I know. I know.”
Santiago asked Jamal what his plans had been hadn’t he been struck by his truck. Jamal shrugged and mumbled something under his breath.
“You know this situation we’re currently in can only end one of two ways.”
Jamal smiled. “You could release me and pretend I was never here.”
Flatly, Santiago replied, “That’s not one of the options.”
“What’re they then?”
“I can drive you to the police station and allow you to turn yourself in peacefully or…”
“I’ll take that one.”
“I’d prefer that one, too.”
Santiago offered Jamal a beer, another meal. He declined both, closing his eyes instead. Santiago wondered if he was praying, but then Jamal spoke.
“Do we have to go right now?”
Santiago shook his head. “But soon.”
“I want to enjoy freedom just a little longer.”
“Is there anything you’d like before…?”
“This is enough, the quiet, this bed. You.”
Santiago stood to allow Jamal some time alone, but Jamal’s last word planted him back in his seat.
He had never been enough to anyone, not his mother, siblings, teachers, peers.
He was simply another mouth to feed, a mind not sharp enough to excel beyond high school, a body not fit enough to be desired.
He lived with being less than until that moment when an escaped convict nearly half his age had said he was enough.
“Thank you.”
Jamal glanced in his direction. “For what?”
Santiago stood. “I gotta take care of something. I’ll be right back, then we can figure this out.”
“Okay.”
Santiago exited and crossed the home to the half-bath on the other side. He closed the door, sat on the toilet, and cried. Afterwards, he washed his face and cleared his throat before returning to Jamal, who had managed to retrieve the remote from a dresser, out of his reach.
“How did you…?”
“You left me unsupervised with a free hand.” He held a finger to his lips and pointed to the TV.
They watched as a young reporter spoke about a standoff situation with one of the fugitives.
Excitement displayed on Jamal’s face while a feeling of horror filled Santiago.
Gunshots suddenly rang out in the distance, causing the reporter to gasp as she shifted her attention.
Jamal turned up the volume; Santiago suggested they switch the television off.
“I wonder if they killed him.”
“Hopefully, not.”
Another round of gunshots sounded off with the reporter looking dazed and confused.
“Bro, that’s crazy,” Santiago said. “I’m not trying to go out like that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent that.”
Still glued to the screen, Jamal said he appreciated Santiago saying that.
Santiago reached for the remote and turned the TV off. “This would be a good time to head to the precinct while most of their resources are busy with the standoff.”
“You’re probably right.”
Jamal untied his wrist with his free hand as Santiago had suspected he’d done in his absence, and climbed out of the bed, unsteadily.
“Want me to walk ahead?”
“Yes.”
Santiago escorted Jamal to the garage without incident.
“I’m going to tie you up again.”
Before Santiago could explain his reasoning, Jamal held up both wrists. Each eyed the gun on the hood of the truck that Santiago had retrieved prior to leaving the bedroom. Jamal never made a move for it as Santiago bound his hands together.
Hopping into the passenger side, Jamal sat back as Santiago buckled him in and made his way around to his side. He drove the truck out the garage and down the long driveway onto the highway.
As they cruised down the road, Santiago said, “Can you try to better yourself while you’re inside, if not for yourself, for mini-Jamal or Jasmine?”
“How?”
Santiago asked Jamal if he had graduated high school.
“Barely.”
Santiago suggested he join a vocational program to gain a skill for his life after prison.
“I will look into it.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
Santiago continued driving down the empty highway while Jamal stared out the window.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“Ha ha. Serious, though.”
Santiago momentarily shifted his gaze to Jamal. “What’s your question?”
“It’s two, now.”
“Ask away.”
Since Santiago had asked Jamal to better himself, he wanted Santiago to do the same: join Alcoholics Anonymous for his drinking problem.
Santiago was stunned by Jamal’s question, coupled with his serious expression as he waited for an answer.
Reluctantly, Santiago admitted he had an issue and promised to find a local chapter.
Satisfied, Jamal turned back to the forest beyond his window.
“What’s your next question?”
Jamal turned to Santiago. “Will you write me?”
Before Santiago could respond, Jamal admitted he had no one else and that Santiago had been the first person in years to treat him well. Santiago’s heart broke, looking into Jamal’s eyes as he spoke. Despite his rough exterior, Santiago could see the scared little boy inside Jamal.
“Yes, I will.”
“Pinky promise?” He lifted his hands and extended a digit.
Santiago took one hand off the steering wheel and wrapped his pinky around Jamal’s.
“Thank you.”
When Santiago pulled into the police station’s parking lot, Jamal let out a deep sigh.
“This isn’t how I expected my escape to go.”
“Were you thinking it would be filled with twists and turns like Prison Break?”
“I guess, I don’t know.”
Santiago exited the vehicle and moved along the back to retrieve Jamal, but he’d managed to open the door himself and hop out. Two officers leisurely standing at the entrance eyed them, but didn’t move in their direction.
“You ready to do this?”
“Not really, but here we are.”
One of the officers yelled at them, seemingly recognizing Jamal. Santiago raised a hand in their direction, asking that they holster their weapons. They were coming in peacefully.
“I’m unarmed. Don’t shoot me!”
Without thinking, Santiago hugged Jamal tightly and assured him everything would be okay.
“I won’t let them do anything to you.”
As the officers quickly approached, guns still drawn, Santiago moved to shield Jamal.
“Please don’t hurt him.”
“Step aside.”
Santiago complied as the officers threw Jamal to the ground and handcuffed him while he kept repeating that he was unarmed.
Others officers poured from the facility.
Watching on from the side of his truck, Santiago tried to calm his erratic breathing as three officers aggressively ushered Jamal toward the building.
Before disappearing inside, Jamal turned and mouthed thank you to Santiago.
Santiago nodded his acknowledgment before turning his attention to another set of officers attempting to question him about his connection to Jamal.