Already Gone

– 6 –



I’m struggling to fit a stack of papers into my bag when I hear someone knock at my office door. I look up as Anne Carlson, the department chair, steps inside.

“Got a minute?” she asks.

“Sure, come on in.”

This is the first time Anne has been in my office. I start to apologize for the mess, but she doesn’t seem to notice so I don’t point it out. Instead, I motion to the chair across from me and say, “Do you want to sit down?”

“No, thank you. I only wanted to stop by and see how you’re holding up after your first week.” Her eyes drop to my bandaged hand and the stack of papers. “Do you need help with those?”

“I think I do,” I say. “You never realize how much you rely on both your hands until one is gone.”

Anne smiles. She takes the papers and straightens them on the desk then slides them into my bag. “How’s your hand healing?”

“Slowly, but it’s getting better.”

She nods, and I can tell my answer was irrelevant.

“Mr. Reese, I thought you should know that I got a call the other day from a Detective Nolan. He said he was investigating the attack.”

“Why did he call you?”

“That’s what I asked him. Turns out, he had a couple questions that needed to be answered. Questions about you.”

I pause. “What about me?”

“He wanted to know if I’d noticed anything out of the ordinary. If you’d had any strange guests, missed a lot of work, that kind of thing.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth,” she says. “I explained that this was your first year and I didn’t know you well enough to decide if something was out of the ordinary.”

“Did he say why he wanted to know?”

“Not directly, but I got the impression he thinks you’re wrapped up in all this, and that what happened to you might’ve been a direct result of your involvement.”

“My involvement in what?”

“He didn’t give specifics.”

“Of course he didn’t.” My voice comes out sharp, and when I speak again, I make an effort to stay calm. “I can’t defend myself against baseless accusations.”

“You think he’s lying?”

“I think he’s lazy,” I say. “He’s looking into my case, but since he doesn’t have anything to go on, he’s assuming I’m somehow to blame because of the trouble I got in as a kid.”

“But your not?”

“Of course I’m not. Are you worried about it?”

Anne shakes her head. “No, Mr. Reese, and I apologize for putting you on the defensive like this. I hope you understand it’s not something I enjoy. It’s just the university isn’t accustomed to police detectives investigating our staff.”

I keep quiet.

“All I can go on is my instinct and your word,” she says. “My instinct tells me to trust you and that this is all a misunderstanding.”

“That’s good.”

“I can assure you, if you tell me you’re not involved in anything illegal or in anything that might harm the reputation of the university, then I’ll support you one hundred percent.”

We stare at each other, silent.

“Can you tell me that?”

I smile. “I’m not involved in anything, illegal or otherwise, that might harm the reputation of this university.”

She nods. “Thank you.”

Behind her, there’s a quick knock at the door, then Doug’s voice. “Jake, you in here?” He looks in and sees Anne. “Sorry, I’ll come back.”

“It’s okay, Doug,” Anne says. “I just stopped by to check in on Mr. Reese, see how he’s managing after his first week.” She hands me my bag. “I hope you’ll come to me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

I tell her I will.

She turns, and I watch her walk out.

Doug closes the door behind her and says, “Didn’t expect that. What did I miss?”

I don’t answer him. I’m thinking about what I’m going to say to Nolan the next time I talk to him. There are a few different ways I see it going, each one ending badly.

“Hey,” Doug says. “What the hell happened?”

I sit and lean back in my chair. I still want to yell at someone, but not Doug. That wouldn’t do any good; he’s known me too long. If he reacted at all, he’d probably just laugh, and that would make things worse.

“The detective investigating my attack called and asked questions about me.”

Doug nods. “She told you about that?”

“You knew?”

“I heard this morning.” He sits in the chair across from me. “I was coming down to talk to you about it.”

“A little late,” I say. “I could’ve used a warning before she showed up.”

“Don’t worry about her, and don’t worry about that detective. He’s a cop, and they ask questions. It’s what they do.” Doug pauses. “Is there something else going on?”

“Something else?” I get up and slide my bag over my shoulder. “Like what?”

He shakes his head. “Forget it. If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”

He’s right, I would, and hearing him say it makes me wonder why I haven’t come to him. Doug has been there for me since I was a kid, and there’s nobody I trust more.

The first time we met, I was locked in the Summit Juvenile Detention Center outside the city where Doug had come to tutor a class in English and composition. He walked in with a stack of books and handed them out. The one he gave me was about a group of boys stranded on a deserted island. I never opened it in class, but when I got back to my room, it was waiting for me on my bed along with a note.

It’ll set you free.

I sat down and read it, and over the next six months, I read every book he gave me. Some were better than others, but all of them made an impression.

Later, when I was in college and I told him I wanted to write a novel based on my life before I was arrested, he supported me every step of the way. Sometimes he offered advice, but mostly he just read the pages and encouraged me to keep going.

When the book was finished, he pushed me to submit the manuscript to the university press. I fought him at first. The book was mine, a way to let go of my past, but Doug didn’t let up. After it was published, he put my name in for the open teaching position at the college.

Any way you look at it, Doug changed my life.

I start toward the door, then stop and say, “Do you want to get a beer?”

“Of course I do.” Doug gets up and looks at his watch. “It is almost noon.”

“Then let’s go.”

“What about Diane? Is she going to object to you drinking in the middle of the day?”

“She’s in Phoenix.”

“You don’t say.” Doug puts a hand on my shoulder. “In that case, my friend, I know the perfect place.”