of his stuff out of the way and at the same time block the door with my body as much as I can.
“Sorry about just popping in, but I actually don't have your phone number,” Mrs. Bowden says, holding a Tupperware container in front of her. “I made some pie and thought that you would like to have some.”
“Oh, wow, thank you so much,” I say, adjusting my clothes and taking the container from her.
I open the lid and see a generous chunk of freshly made cherry pie inside. The top of it is made in a crisscross pattern and glazed with something that makes it catch the light.
Fresh cherries are pushing through the crisscross pattern and it’s making my mouth water.
“I don't think I’ve ever had fresh pie before.”
“No? Well, then, you are in for a real treat.”
I can tell that she's itching for me to invite her inside, but I don't. Instead I just keep standing near the front door, keeping it slightly ajar and holding onto whatever privacy I can, secretly praying that she will go away.
There's an unbearably long pause that we both suffer through and in the middle of another one, she finally lets up and tells me to enjoy myself.
“I hope you go out to the lake sometime and not just stay cooped up in here. It's a beautiful day.”
I don't know if she has any children, but she talks to me as if I'm one of them.
It feels like some unwanted advice but given my own fraught relationship with my mother, I actually welcome it.
“Okay, she's gone!” I yell, waiting a few moments after closing the door behind her to make sure that I see her walking toward her house. Tyler comes out from the shadows in the kitchen.
“That was close.” He laughs.
“Yeah, that would've been pretty terrible.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out and doing nothing in particular.
It's a nice change of pace. I know that nothing is resolved about whether or not I will accompany him in his new life, but for now that's okay.
I'm fine with that. It feels nice to just sit here with him, read, and be normal.
The longer we stay here, the more I realize that perhaps Tyler's enough.
Maybe I can make a new life with him. We get along really well and we like to do the same things.
Stay home, keep to ourselves, and that kind of thing.
So, will it work?
After I finish my book, I go over to the bookshelf to find another, but nothing strikes my interest. Instead I get back on the computer and make my way to Mallory Deals' blog.
He is a defense attorney who has a podcasting website talking about Tyler's innocence. He’s never met Tyler before but got interested in the story when he heard about in the news. The more that he researched and the more evidence that he gained, the more he became convinced that he is an innocent man.
Mallory had started his website right after Tyler's conviction and so far, he has not posted anything new about the escape.
As I read through some of the previous articles, I get a notification that there's a new one posted. When I scroll up, I see that it's all about the escape.
The story is pretty similar to what Tyler and Mac told me in the car. Knotted sheets and power tools show up again and again. There's little new information there that I haven't read and synthesized from various newspaper articles, but it's nice to read something written by an ally.
“Hey, look at this,” I say excitedly to Tyler and bring my computer to him.
He looks up from the book that he's reading on his phone and as soon as he sees the screen, he looks away.
“I don't want to talk about my case,” he says.
“No, it's not about that.”
“Isn't that the attorney who says that I'm innocent?”
“Yes, but this is about your escape.”
“I already know how that happened,” Tyler says.
I get angry. I hate how dismissive he is of this whole situation.
“He's the only person out there, out in the real world, who believes in you. Besides me. Why don't you want to read what he has to say? If he believes in your innocence, then maybe he can get other people to do it, too?”
Tyler shrugs.
“Do you see that he may be the way that you can clear your name? Not just get a new identity and live under that assumed name, always hiding from every