Tequila Shots

Chapter 11

"We love because we can lose. If there was no threat of separation, no death to shake us to our core, we probably wouldn't love much at all." — Donna Lynn Hope

Samantha's POV

I went out to the parking lot and got into the car. I avoided any form of eye contact with Brent as we began our trip back to shadow creek. About thirty minutes into the drive, I felt the car slow down till we came to a halt and stopped moving.

"We have a problem," Brent started and I looked up to find that the cars in front of us had also stopped and traffic was quickly building up.

Brent lowered the window on his driver's side and exchanged a few words with the driver in the truck beside ours. He thanked the man after collecting the information.

"What did he say?" I asked in a low voice.

"I don't know how true is his story but he said a truck had fallen in the middle of the road. I guess he lives around here 'cause he said that shit happens pretty often. Either we go back or keep moving but we'll get to shadow creek late at night."

"I think we should keep going. I have another set of meetings tomorrow and I already made you miss a whole day of work," I replied dully, resting my head back.

"Hey, you alright?" I looked to my side to find Brent's eyes fixated on my face, searching for whatever it is that he wanted to see.

"Yeah... fine... I'm fine," I muttered, letting a weak smile spread my lips but even I could tell it wasn't the least bit convincing.

He was worried. I could sense his worry like you could smell the raging hormones of a pregnant woman. It was only normal that he was concerned. Or was it? I had gone into the facility, maybe not as bubbly, but I definitely wasn't down in the mouth like I was when I stepped out. I had dried my tears before getting to the car but he wasn't dumb. He was actually the opposite— very smart and observant— so there was no way he would miss the tear tracks going down my face from my eyes. I didn't want him to ask about it and he didn't pry any further but the fact that his worry was thick in the air and created so much tension was what I couldn't stand. I wished he'd just ask. I needed an outlet that wasn't my mother or Gray. I needed a friend in that moment but then I guessed it was too much to ask that of him seeing as he wasn't indebted to me and if anything, I was the one who owed him for the favour. It was bad enough that I compelled him into driving me to SilverLake. I just couldn't demand any more favors. My pride would pin me down in a chokehold while my ego tied my hands and mouth before letting something stupid pass through my lips.

My mind wandered back to the place I just left and I let it. The energy there had sapped me of life and I just felt blank afterwards. Inside the jail smelled like desperation and desolation. It looked like an isolation centre for people infected with a certain type of virus— the virus of lawlessness and crime. I could feel the drab energy oozing from the inmates and it wasn't long until I started to feel their distress and loneliness like I had been there for months even though it was only a few minutes.

Outside the jail, people moved around oblivious to the privilege of free choice they had. It was amazing how experiencing two opposite situations could put things into perspective and help you understand the world from both ends. I didn't realize I was lucky but seeing people in orange uniformed clothes, moving around and living a routined life not knowing when or if they were going to make it out alive and in one piece, forced me to count my blessings. I was young when he was taken away and I was ignorant to the fact that the place that I thought was a reform home for my father was actually a very depressing environment. The officer had passed me a form to fill after asking that I drop all personal items in the box, searching me to confirm that I wasn't carrying any contrabands into the prison and I felt like a new inmate for a second. I was then led through several doors to the visiting room. The room was silent and organized save for the whispered interactions between the visitors and the low sobs of a woman that sat at the far end of the room. Her cry was laced with so much pain that my heart ached for her. She had her hand on the glass separating her from the inmate she was visiting and her head was bent as her body racked with sobs.