Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

8 4 ~ A n n a

                 

Flashback ~ December 31, 2010

The place looks like a tornado went through it. The racks of food and candy are in disarray, some fallen to the floor and the displays are knocked over. The magazine rack that Caesar had looked at when he first came in has fallen over and lays on its side against the floor, forgotten in the mess of everything else.

Again, I get that chill because this isn't just the scene of a robbery. Or the place of a murder. It's that war zone thing again. All of this is just the rubble left behind after the explosion. This is what everyone involved has left to live for now.

"I don't understand," I say as I move past the store clerk into the back room of the store. "I thought you were... I heard the gunshot."

I stop talking. The store clerk smiles at me sadly as he passes me and moves into the main shop.

"Not me. I was looking after my grandson, B—" he pauses and it looks like it takes effort to get the name out. "Billy. He..."

"I know," I say. "You don't have to say it." I don't look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know you weren't working with him, girl." He says. I notice he has a lisp, or maybe it is an accent. Just barely noticeable among everything else I'm taking in right now. I didn't know this man before the robbery. I thought I had helped in his murder. I thought that his death was partly my fault.

But it wasn't him that died. It was his grandson. That makes it worse. "How do you know?"

"I saw you over at Tip Top Grill, eating. I saw him coming. And I know what he wanted," the store clerk pauses. "I know him."

I step back a little. "You do?"

The man nods.

"Then why are the police after me and not just him?" I ask.

His expression falters for a minute. It's guilt. I would know that look anywhere. "Sorry about that, girl. But I can't let him get in trouble, even if he's a bad person."

So he threw me under the bus to save a murderer. Go figure.

I want to ask why he would protect the person who killed his grandson, but I'm kind of afraid to hear the answer. What if Caesar did something worse to this family than he did to mine?

I don't go off on him because I still need something. I have a feeling that I'll never find the photo for Caesar if I get on the bad side of the man who might know where it is.

I stop to set down my duffle bag and sort through it until I find the money at the bottom. I stand and hand it to him. "This is yours. But I have something to ask you," I mumble the last part. It doesn't feel right to be talking to someone who is in as much pain as I am and asking him for something.

"Go ahead."

"Do you still have the photo that he showed to you? He... He's going to kill me if I don't give it to him."

The store clerk nods but doesn't look surprised. He walks around to the counter and starts to search around. I spot it first and darted forward to grab it before it fell off the side.

As soon as I have the thin Polaroid in my hands I flip it over to look at the man in the picture.

I'm confused.

I look up at the store clerk and he takes the money, pressing it firmly in my hand. "You're going to need this more than me. The man who was in here yesterday..."

"Caesar," I say his name without even realizing it. The old clerk flinches.

"Is he making you work for him?" The clerk asks me.

I hesitate, but nod. He sighs.

"I don't understand," I say. "The photo is of Caesar. He wants me to give it to him, but why does he need it?" I don't know why I'm asking this store clerk. I don't know why I'm even asking it. Like I would get answers or something. I'm not going to get answers. I'm not going to get anything out of this.

Except for keeping my life. I'll get that.

"That's not Caesar in the photo," the store clerk pinches the bridge of his nose. "That's his twin brother. They're identical. We were all together at one point, but we both got away from him when he started to get dangerous. He found us."

"What does he want with you?"

The store clerk shrugs. "Not me, really. His brother is in hiding. I know where he is but he doesn't. I guess he thought he could get me to talk."

I nod. "So he's looking for his brother and he found you."

The store clerk heads over to the front door and opens it. "You'd best be on your way. You probably already know too much."

"Wait," I plant my feet on the ground. His smile now is only polite. "There has to be more. Please, you have to... there has to be something else..."

"Get out of here, girl. You're already dead if you don't start running now."

I tuck the money back into the bag and he starts rushing me through the door. "Wait," I try to say, but I'm outside before I can finish. He shuts the door and locks it. I stand there, mouth open with words unspoken.

He said I probably know too much. I do. My parents knew too much and now they're dead. If I know too much, how long will I have before he decides to shut me up too?