Burnington Gaol

F I F T Y - F O U R | Adeline

The last time I visited Frank in the Gaol was the first day of spring.

There was a bright yellow sun and a magnificent, deep blue sky. Birds sung in the trees and life was beginning again. Something about it filled me with a glorious new hope, one that couldn't be trampled, not even by the stench of the dirty, wet rust that filled the hallway leading to Frank's cell.

"Hello, Adeline. What brings you to my cell on this lovely spring day?"

"Good news," I chirped. "The reports went through. You are officially a free man."

From my pocket, I retrieved Dad's keys – not stolen this time. He'd given them to me. He thought it was only right that I should be the one to open Frank's cell and release him back into the world, since I had been the one who had made it possible. The barred door slid open with a rusty creak, but Frank didn't move.

"What is it?" I asked, taking a step inside.

He paused for a long moment, collecting his thoughts.

"It was something Tony said to me, the night... you know."

"You can't listen to him. He's a liar."

"Even so, it bothers me. It bothers me because he was right."

"Right about what?"

"That I don't deserve to get out here. That I deserve to be punished."

"Frank, that's ridiculous."

"Do you know how many people I've killed? I've probably murdered more people than you've said hello to in your entire life. I'm no better than him – in fact, he's likely better than me."

I sighed, rubbing my eyes wearily as I sat down beside him.

"You know, I thought the same thing. That I'm no different from him. What he is, I could've easily been if Billy had died when Seth shot him. To lose so much... good. Sometimes it feels like all there is left is bad."

We both fell silent for a long moment.

"I think, in the end, the only real difference between us all is our ability to let go. Move on. It defines us more than we care to admit, and it can cripple us just as easily. Jimmy wanted you to get out. He wanted you to let go of him, of Susie, of this place. He wanted you to move on to better things, because he knew there were better things to move onto." I took Frank's hand in mine. "If you want to be better, to deserve this second chance, then get up and get out of here. Start again. Let go."

Frank smiled at that – a thoughtful smile.

"And where will you be? What are you letting go of?"

I sighed, lowered my eyes.

"Billy told me that our father lied about how our mother ended up in the asylum. I forgave him, because I understood. And we're going to visit her this afternoon."

Frank squeezed my hand.

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Terrified. Absolutely terrified. But I'm going to do it anyway, because your brother was right. Better things ahead."

Frank paused, tapped my hand.

"Never underestimate how much I admire you," he said quietly.

I turned my eyes up to meet his. Then he stood, pulled me up with him.

"Come on, don't let me hold you up." He held out his arm. "Might you do me the pleasure of escorting me out, Miss Wilson?"

With a beaming smile, I linked my pale, thin arm around his muscular, tattooed one.

"I'd be more than happy to."

© A.G. Travers 2018