three of a kind.

21.

March 8, 1990 & March 11, 1990.

my stomach was in the floor. everything had happened so suddenly, it was all a blur to me. lyle was taken away from me, in an instant. no warning, he was just gone; probably in a cold jail cell by now. how was i supposed to begin to tell erik? i slowly pulled the same phone i'd used to dial the police station from it's hook, dialing in erik's tennis mentor's number i had memorized in case of emergencies.

my hands shook as if there was a global earthquake occurring beneath me, i felt like i was about to vomit everywhere.

"hello?" his tennis coach had answered.

i pinched the bridge of my nose, pushing the tears back as forcefully as i could manage. "c-can i talk to erik?"

"he's about to play a match, can it wait?"

"no, no.." i began to trip over myself, "just please."

there was a few seconds of utter silence, before i heard rustling and erik's shaky breathing into the phone. "rose?"

"i don't know how to tell you this.. but lyle's been arrested..it's all over the news erik i-it's bad." my voice crumbled into a ball, i feared the day those words would leave my lips.

"w-what?" he panicked, "i-i gotta get there, i've gotta get back!"

"i'm gonna get your aunt and i'm gonna come get you okay?" i comforted, "don't worry erik, i love you."

"p-please hurry. i love you rose."

i nodded as if he was able to see me, hanging the phone back on it's hook as i exhaled sharply. i admired to be as selfless as erik always has been. lyle was the only thing on his mind, he didn't run. he had no desire to, he wanted to be with us; and that is just about the deepest form of love as i know how to put it.

i wasted no time, every second of the next few hours was time i didn't have. i loaded up on an emergency flight to Miami from Los Angles with the boys' aunt, and a case investigator. the four hours i spent  on the plane were the longest of my life, all of the unknown was suffocating and all i wanted to do was talk to lyle. i didn't know anything, i couldn't find out any updates. i knew why the boys were being arrested, but what happened? why now? what could they possibly have found and if they found evidence from the crime scene why wasn't i being arrested also? it was all a huge puzzle that someone stole the key pieces from; i couldn't make it make sense.

i had no right to sit there and feel sorry for myself and fill myself with dread, imagine how erik felt. his flight was over triple the length of mine, and he was the one being deemed an accused killer. even though he poured every hour he'd spent in isreal into his tennis career, the interior of his mind only deteriorated. it offered no distraction, and as if the overwhelming guilt of slaying his own mother and father wasn't already enough. the ruse was up, we had been caught and there would be hell to pay for it.

the night at the hotel, i slept none. i didn't even attempt to. what would be the point if i wouldn't wake up from this nightmare in the morning? i made a collect call to the Los Angles County Men's Jail, where lyle and i carried on a less than pleasant conversation in the short 15 minutes that we were allowed.

"hey kid." lyle chuckled, picking up his end of the line.

"hi." i answered, briskly spiraling into sobs at the sound of his voice.

"shh. don't cause a fuss i don't have long." he calmed the best he knew how, "you have no right to be crying." he joked.

i didn't laugh, i just couldn't. nothing he could say could lighten the atmosphere i was in.