Tim Green: Exact Revenge

I called out to her and pushed back against the bailiffs, struggling, but they shoved me through the door and someone slammed it shut.

IT TOOK ALMOST THREE MONTHS of processing before they were ready for me at Attica, the state prison notorious for its deadly riot in the early seventies. During that time, I was in isolation at the Public Safety Building in Syracuse. I saw Dan Parsons several times. He swore he’d fight this thing all the way to the Supreme Court. He had retained the famous Harvard Law professor Alan Dershowitz. But both of us knew enough about the law to realize that the judge hadn’t committed any reversible errors and no one could overturn a jury.

My father visited me as often as was allowed. Once a week.

He never mentioned my failure to escape when I could have. But just before they shipped me off, he appeared with his eyes puffy and red to tell me the news. Lexis had married Frank Steffano. She was pregnant with his child.

My father said he didn’t want me pining for her.

Because of the way I now live, in total isolation, and because I returned every one of her letters until they stopped coming, it is likely that I never would have known what happened with Lexis and Frank. Sometimes I think it would have been better not to know. Other times I’m thankful that I do. I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care that she loved him for a couple of years. I know him. I know her. And I know this is what happened.

Frank’s hands were big, and he was careful to limit their touch to Lexis’s arms and shoulders. Nothing intimate. He was a friend she could count on. He guided her outside the courthouse and down the steps. His dark blue unmarked cruiser was parked half on the sidewalk and half off in the fire lane.

“Come on,” he said, opening the passenger door. “I’ll take you home.”

By the time he hurried around and climbed in, she was sobbing hysterically. Frank leaned over and pulled her to him, hugging her like a sister whose parents had died, patting her back, speaking softly.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “It’ll all be okay.”

“It can’t,” she said, her voice a shattered moan.

“I know,” he said, “but it will.”

Twice people put their faces up to the window and Frank glared at them until they went away. When she finally cried herself out, he let her go and started the engine.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go home,” he said. “Maybe you shouldn’t be alone.”

Lexis said nothing. She just stared straight ahead and Frank drove two blocks, where he pulled the cruiser up onto another sidewalk in front of L’Adours, a French restaurant across the street from the stone sandcastle that is City Hall. Frank helped Lexis out and led her by the arm inside to an intimate booth in the nook beneath the staircase. He sat her down and whispered something to Sebastian, the maître d’, before taking the seat opposite her.

It wasn’t a minute before she had a glass of Alsatian Riesling in front of her and Frank was wiping the froth off his lip from a mug of beer.

“Take a drink,” he said, nudging the glass toward her.

Lexis stared at it. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

“I stopped,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “This is a little different. After what you’ve been through I don’t think there’s anyone who wouldn’t give you special dispensation…”

Light from above glowed in the pale yellow wine. A small bead of condensation snaked its way down the side of the glass.

“I know I’ve got my issues,” he said with a sigh, “but the one thing you won’t get from me is any of this holier-than-thou crap. It’s okay, Lexis. One drink. You could use it.”

She reached out and touched the cool round glass. She pinched the stem between her fingers and ran them lightly up and down for a moment, then sighed and picked it up. She opened her mouth and filled it before setting the half-empty glass down on the table. She let the wine swish around gently inside her cheeks.

Frank smiled at her. Half a laugh spilled up out from his chest. Lexis looked at him and swallowed. Immediately she brought the glass to her lips again, finishing the glass before replacing it on the table without a sound. Frank upended his beer and pushed both glasses toward the edge of the booth. A grinning waiter quickly replaced them.

This time, Lexis took her time. She didn’t look at Frank, but his eyes peeked over the rim of his mug even when he was drinking. After she set down the third empty glass on the table, she cleared her throat.

“See,” she said, her face crinkling into a pathetic frown that suddenly darkened, “he promised me this wouldn’t happen.”

Frank took her hand, holding it tight and patting it softly with his other hand.

“I know,” he said, quiet and sad.

“Did he do it?” she said suddenly, her eyes locked onto his.

Frank looked down at the table and shook his head slowly from side to side. The waiter set down fresh drinks. He pushed the wine toward her.

“Three is enough,” she said. “It’s more than enough.”

“What’s the difference?” Frank said. “Stop worrying. It’s just me. Do you want something to eat? My mother always says it’s good for you to eat.”

“This isn’t a date, Frank,” Lexis said, her eyebrows knit together.

“I know,” Frank said in his best little-boy voice.

Lexis shook her head, looking down. Just the trace of a smile showed on her lips. She took a deep staggering breath and let it out.

“I’m drunk,” she said. “Is that good for me?”

“It’s not a cardinal sin,” he said. “Even the priests drink wine.”

“You eat,” she said, her words sloppy. “I’ll have just one more and then you can take me home.”

“I’ll order for both of us,” he said.

They talked quietly as they waited for the food. Frank led her into talking about how wonderful the past two years of her life had been. He kept going back and back until finally he got to them.

“You know, my mother still thinks you and I will end up together,” he said. “She thinks you’re the kind of woman who can forgive a mistake, but I don’t know.”

“You’re just a man, Frank,” she said with a crooked smile, taking a swig of wine, “and men lie. All of them…”

Frank just stared at her.

The food finally came and he ate it in big mouthfuls, but he was more intent on making sure Lexis’s wineglass was refilled. She didn’t even pick up her fork. After the waiter cleared the plates, he returned with a small tray of tall thin shot glasses. Smoky steam curled up and away from their frosted surfaces.

Frank took one and raised it toward Lexis.

“To forgetting,” he said.

She nodded and picked up a glass, letting it clink against his before she threw it down. They had two more each, and Lexis’s eyes were beginning to lose focus.

“I should get you back,” Frank said.

“Yes,” she said in a murmur.

Frank led her to the car by the arm again, helping her inside and dashing around the front. He pulled away from the curb fast and parked on the back side of the alley, away from the Tusk. As he helped her down the alley, she began to stagger.

“Do you have your keys?” he asked.

She fumbled with her purse and dropped it onto the bricks.

“Dizzy,” she muttered.

Frank scooped up the purse and tugged her to the green door. He punched in the code and half carried her up the stairs with one arm around her waist and the other holding her arm. They got to her door and he spilled the purse out on the step under the small carriage lamp. The brass key gleamed up at him. He bent down, holding her still, and scooped it up from the mess-one-handed-without bothering to pick up the rest. He jiggled the key and the door flew open.