Free Edge Play X by M. Jarrett Wilson

quieter than usual because of the holiday, but cars still zipped by,
interrupting their conversation.
    “It’s an OK
neighborhood,” X said.
    “You don’t
have to say that. We don’t even go out after dark.” Daniel looked through the
window again at Sabrina. “We want to get out of L.A. , maybe go up toward
northern California , but I have to wait
until my parole is finished.”
    X nodded in
agreement, telling him that it would be a good idea to get out of the area,
start somewhere fresh.
    They both
finished their cigarettes and put the butts into a coffee can that was halfway
filled with sand.
    “And how
much longer is your parole?”
    Daniel
looked over at the houses across the street. He knew it was a crappy
neighborhood but reminded himself that even a shit-hole rental in a gang-ridden
city beat the pants off of prison.
    “About three
more months. Eighty-seven more days, to be exact.”
    X could
sense the shame in his voice. She didn’t even need to ask if he was still
sober, she could see that he was clean. When he was a junkie, he rarely smiled.
He had even walked differently back then, like he had been carrying a heavy
weight on his back everywhere he went. His eyes had carried storm clouds and
flecks of crematory ash.
    “And after
that there is no more checking-in, then there’s no more drug testing? And you
can move?”
    “No, then I
guess I’m really a free man. If a man is really ever free…But enough about me.
Tell me what you have been up to. You been seeing anyone?”
    “Not
really,” she said, not especially wanting to talk about it.
    Sabrina
came out onto the stoop.
    “I’ve got
to head down to the store and get another loaf of bread for the stuffing,” she
said before kissing Daniel goodbye and starting up her car.
    It made X
happy that her brother was with Sabrina. Finally, he was living clean and was
relatively happy. Deep down X thought that was all a person could really hope
for, relative happiness.
    As soon as
Sabrina was gone, X told Daniel to come inside with her. She got her purse and
removed a manila envelope which she handed to her brother.
    “Open it.
There’s ten-thousand dollars in there,” X told him.
    Daniel
opened the envelope, pulling the stack of cash out halfway before abruptly
shoving it back in and sealing it.
    “Jesus. You
shouldn’t carry around that much cash. Especially around here. How did you get
this?” he asked.
    “My
paintings have been selling,” she lied.
    “I’m glad
to hear it,” he said, “but you should keep this for yourself. We’re getting by,
we’re doing alright.”
    “I’m doing
well for myself, Danny. I just thought I’d share the wealth. I want you to use
it to get those home inspection courses you were talking about. Use it to move
up north if you want.”
    He leaned
over and gave her a hug.
    “I’m glad
your career is doing well. You deserve it,” he said.
    Deserve. X
wasn’t sure what she deserved anymore.
    “You just
have to promise me something,” X said. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from
the drugs.”
    “You don’t
have to worry about that,” he answered. “That part of my life is over. But I
better put this somewhere safe,” he said, leaving her and going into his
bedroom.
    As she
heard him rumbling around in his room, a thought kept replaying in her mind. 87
days , it said, 87 more days .

 
    7.
    X left the city three days later, her
brother taking her to the airport to fly back to the peninsula. Below her, the
city was a circuit board of lines and colors. She was glad to leave it behind.
    Home was comforting, the safety of it,
the predictability of its routines. She wanted to find a true refuge but could
find only distractions—cooking, shopping, socializing, painting, cleaning. Life
was normal, except that it wasn’t anymore. She wondered if sex could unburden
her mind but she could not manage the initiative to find a partner.
    Winter had come, bringing with it rain
and making each day shorter