Paul and Kathryn reached the landing with his office and Davis’ apartment. The manager continued to lead, reaching the door first and knocking three times.

“Davis, it is Paul. Are you there?”

“Uh, yeah, coming” returned a voice through the door. A few progressively louder footsteps followed.

Davis opened the door. He was startled to see Kathryn, but fought to offer a smile to the pair of them. The smile that little to masquerade the worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, sorry, I have a lot on my mind. What’s up?”

“There is a young lady here looking for you,” he responded. He stepped aside to fully reveal Kathryn. She wasn't hidden, but standing to the side of the hallway. “Would you like to see her?”

Davis avoided eye contact with her and rubbed the back of his head.

“That sounds like a reluctant ‘yes,’” Paul said in an all-knowing, almost paternal manner. “I will leave you two to talk. I will be in my office if you need anything.”

He looked Davis in the eye and added, “She’s worried about you.”

Paul then left the two on their own. He gave Kathryn one last supportive look and shoulder squeeze as he passed. He then entered the adjacent office.

Kathryn’s eyes followed Paul into his office. When the door closed, she took a step forward and looked at Davis.

“Are you okay?” she asked, adding, “I was worried about you. The way you left the table and then, and then you just left,” with a slight crack in her voice at the end.

Davis took a deep breath and sighed.

“You should come in,” he said, stepping to the side to let her pass.

Kathryn entered the apartment and took a long look around. She’d seen bits and pieces while FaceTiming, but she was now able to put everything into context. She didn’t allow this to shake her focus. She took off her jacket and laid it over the back of the couch and turned to face Davis. He closed the door, but appeared to be working up the courage to enter his own apartment or look at her. She took it upon herself and sat at one of the two chairs at the table near the kitchen. She then looked at Davis expectantly and he responded by taking the adjacent seat.

She remained sympathetic to whatever was going on but was starting to feel like it was less and less about her. That gave her a sense of relief, but did not ease her concern. To that end, she waited for him to speak first. As he built up the nerve, she looked around the apartment. She admired the view while nervously fiddling with her hands.

Davis broke the silence after a few moments, each feeling like 10 minutes.

“I’m meticulous. I plan ahead and I try to mitigate risks to getting hurt,” he started.

Kathryn stared at him, still confused.

“Sorry, this might take a while to make sense” he retorted, before continuing. He sat down across from her.

“I don’t have a lot of friends and have not dated much. I am very deliberate with what parts of my past I share and when I do. It allows me to remain guarded. It is also tiring and ridiculously overthought.”

“Over-thinking,” she interrupted. “I can relate.” She then smiled and he gave a half-hearted smile back.

“Before I tell you everything you should know and want to know about me, I have to ask: Your friend, Jenna, how do you know her?”

Finally, a nugget of the problem, though it told Kathryn nothing about what he was getting at. Nonetheless, she answered his question.

“Well, uh, we grew up together back in Seattle. We’ve been friends since we were about 10. My best friend and her best friend are cousins, so the four of us were pretty much a clique. We’ve kept in touch a bit since we graduated from high school. Why?”

Davis took another deep breath, and responded, “She’s my sister.”

Kathryn stared at Davis. She understood the statement but could not reconcile it with the facts. She had met A.J. and Derrick. She’s known them since she was in the fifth grade. Maybe he looked like Derrick, but he was not him. She couldn't process the information without a little coaxing.

Davis gave her a guiding look with his eyes, and she slowly came around.

The wheels were churning in her head as she reached for anything she was missing.

There it was, she realized. One time, at a slumber party when they were like 16. Sam had snuck some alcohol from her parents. The girls were taking turns drinking from the bottle and sharing secrets. Crushes, hand jobs, petty crimes, mostly. Jenna, who’d been silent, shared one thing after a few swigs of cheap vodka. She had another brother.

Kathryn gasped and responded, “But, wait, does that mean?”

He nodded in the affirmative, lowered his head and took another readying breath.

Davis then looked her in the eyes and told her his story. He delivered it unflinchingly and matter-of-factly. It was almost as though he was not a character, much less the main character, in the narrative. He added nothing that was not shared in court, offered no appeals and made no excuses.

“And I never saw my parents again," he started to finish. "I have not talked to either of my brothers since. Jenna called me for the first time to tell me about the wedding this morning. That was the first time I'd spoken to her in 13 years"

Kathryn's expression changed gradually over the telling of the story. By the end, her face was frozen in shock. He was encouraged that there was no fear or disdain on her face, but he’d been there before. He waited for her to react, and, with nothing, he continued.

“Jenna called about the wedding and to tell me J.D. needs a kidney. They are having trouble finding a match and it’s getting dire. Well, dire enough that she was allowed to invite me to her wedding in exchange for one of mine.”

For the first time that night, Kathryn understood the emotion on his face. The succinct retelling also affected him. The bottom line was his only contact with his family in 13 years came with a price. If Derrick was healthy, would he have ever talked to any of them again?

He let her process the information and did not push on. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was sharing his secrets with someone, but was still fearful about what this would mean. He measured his breathing and studied the back of his hands a lot waiting for her to speak. In that time, he resolved to face whatever fallout there was from this confession.

“What. The. Fuck?” she let out exasperatedly. “There is so much to unpack there. I have no idea where to start.”

She took a second to process everything he said, plotting what to ask about first.

“I cannot imagine you having killed anyone; it doesn’t make sense. You’re a sweet guy, interesting, funny, insanely creative. I cannot imagine you getting into a fight and not being able to control yourself. You’re obviously not that angry kid anymore.”

“I was never angry,” Davis said. “I’m the same person I have always been. I got into fights like kids do. Everyone grows out of that. The only difference has been having apathy wash over me after eight years in juvie. I've been living some stilted half-life since I got out.”

“But wait. Did you—”

“Don’t ask me if I did it,” Davis interrupted, solemnly. His focus remained on the back of his hands, as if he was talking to them.

Kathryn was taken aback. Her confusion was evident.

“I can’t answer that," he added. "If I say ‘yes,” there is no coming back from that. And, I know you want me to say ‘no.’ I can’t do that either.”

He lifted his head to look her in the eyes and continued.

“I don’t want you to believe me if I say I didn’t do it. Because you will. You’ll believe me. You’re my friend, you feel sorry for me, and you believe I’d never hurt anyone. I need you to not ask if I did it because you know me, who I am. I need you to know that whatever has happened in my past, I am a person you want in your life.”

“I don’t understand,” she interjected. “If you didn’t,” she paused and looked at him incredulously. “It matters if you didn’t do it. It matters so much, not to me, but, I don’t know, if you didn’t do it…”

She stopped again and looked at the wall as if her next words were written there for her to say. She knew this would all be easier to process if he would tell her he didn’t do it.

“If you tell me you didn’t do it,” she paused again. She steeled herself and continued in a resolute tone. “I’m not going to ask you to go through everything again. If you can tell me you didn’t do it, I’ll believe you. I trust you.”

“Whether I did it or not stopped mattering a long time ago,” he said. “If I say, ‘yes, I did it, but I’m not that person,’ it changes how people see me. If I say I didn’t do it, it doesn’t matter,” he paused.

“Believing me,” he sighed. “It doesn’t help because no one else believes me. The court said I killed someone. Prisons are filled with people who say they are innocent. Every one of them has someone in their life that believes them. People feel sorry for that person. They think they’re naive for believing. One day, you are going to wake up, nothing will have changed, and you’ll feel lied to. I can’t control that.”

He took a breath and finished, looking back at his hands.

“I did my time and I just want to live my life with no strings attached. I don’t want people in my life that believe me. I want people in my life that believe in me and don’t care. I know that’s asking a lot, but it will save me a whole lot more pain down the road.”

She sat back and thought about what he’d said. She pondered what she needed to hear for everything to be okay. Did she need him to say he didn’t do it? Would that give her plausible deniability, or would it even change anything?

While she processed this information, she moved on. There was something that bothered her in the back of her mind as he was talking.

“They just cut you off?” she blurted out, shifting the conversation. “You were a kid!”

“Uh, yeah,” he sighed. “I rationalized it over the years that they were worried that it was some escalating behavior. Realistically, there was a chance I was never getting out. I got into some fights and there was a 50/50 chance I’d get angry and hardened in juvie and end up in and out of prison.”

“But you didn’t. I mean, you’re not.”

The concern and self-righteousness in her voice was heartening.

“I wasn’t angry. I’ve never been an angry person. There is one moment that everyone is using to add meaning to the first 13 years of my life. ‘He killed that boy. Those fights must have been escalation. He must have had so much anger built up.’ I was a normal kid. After it happened, I was sad and scared. When you lock up a 13-year-old and no one is around, some are angry, but a lot just cry. I saw both kinds of kids. I looked at how I got into that mess and retreated inside and have been solitary ever since.”

He continued by telling her about the lack of relationships in his life. His only “friends” were Paul, Arturo, Kevin, Andie and her. Paul Lee, who he’d met two months ago, was his emergency contact.

“You are,” he paused, “as much as I don’t want to scare you off and make you uncomfortable, you are my best friend. I need you to know that and how important our relationship is to me.”

She was caught off guard by this revelation. She enjoyed being around him and agreed they were friends. She didn't think to consider the extent of their relationship. Adjusted for his experience, it made sense to her. She was touched.

“Thanks,” she offered, getting a little choked up.

“I don’t have any expectations of you,” he said. “I want you to know that whatever happens after tonight, you are special to me. I have appreciated your friendship.”

Tears were now steadily rolling down Kathryn’s face. Emotions started to swell within Davis, as well. He excused himself from the table to grab a box of tissue for her and took the opportunity to compose himself.

He was scared. He’d always run from a hypothetical disaster. Sometimes he actually ran away, like tonight. Now, he had something to lose, and he was forced to face this fear. He was tired of running and he was tired of being alone by his own design. Is that a life worth living? It was another half-life. One he would risk blowing up if it meant a chance at being happy.

A few minutes later, she dabbed away the last of her tears and they returned to the conversation.

“I don’t know what to think about everything right now,” she said. “It’s a lot to process. Do you mind if I take some time to think about it before I respond?”

“Take your time,” he said with an air of defeat in his voice.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you,” she said, sensing his despair and taking his hand. “You have a lot to process right now, too. What are you going to do?”

Davis exhaled and contemplated his feelings on the matter.

“I have to do it, right?” he asked, looking her in the eyes. “They are really struggling to find a match and a donor fell through or something. Normally, they wouldn’t rush into a donation, I guess, but we can get it done Sunday.”

Kathryn contemplated what he said, but still had so many questions.

“But why?”

He met that question with confusion. She elaborated

“Look, it sounds like Jenna really wants you there, though. I know I’m biased because I like her a lot, but I don’t think she is attaching any strings to this. Is that why you want to do it? To reconnect with your family? Get back in their good graces?”

Now, her question made sense. It was the same question that was going through his head. He couldn’t quite answer it to himself, past, “I have to do it.” He took a deep breath and took a stab at answering it.

“There is nothing for me there,” he started. “Whatever they would be able to give me, for whatever reason, I don’t want it. I’m just tired of being alone. I’m tired of being scared. Maybe this will help get me some closure. Either way, it needs to be done whether I feel good about it or not. He needs my kidney and I need to stop running from my past.”

“I think I understand,” she said.

The sun started to rise outside the window. Out of the corner of their eyes, they both caught the first moments of the sun over the adjacent buildings. They realized in that moment that they had talked all night. Kathryn then remembered she’d have to leave for work soon.

“First, whatever you decide,” she offered, “I am here for you. This is not something anyone should have to manage alone. So, if you need to talk it out or anything, I’m here for you.”

Davis sensed a ‘but’ coming and braced for it. He only hoped it didn’t show on his face. It didn’t seem to, as she continued talking.

“I wish I could tell you how I feel about everything else. I wish I knew how we are going to go forward, but this has been a lot to take in. I need to let it sink in. I mean, I know who you are, and nothing will ever change that. I want to make sure, out of fairness to you, that I can honestly tell you none of the other stuff matters.”

He nodded.

“Plus,” she continued, breaking into a tired grin, “I have to work at 6 and I am going to need a shit-ton of coffee.”

“I understand. I get it,” he said, smiling back and standing to get her jacket.

“Do you want to walk me to the diner? We can keep talking,” she offered.

He smiled again in agreement.

They walked together to the diner. They moved at a leisurely pace to extend their time together without stopping. Along the way, she asked him questions. He answered honestly, even on difficult subjects. He was relieved for someone else to know, to at least have this time, before she decided it was too much.

When they arrived, he thanked her for listening and grabbed the door for her. She entered and he turned to return home. He was exhausted, but he wondered if he’d be able to fall asleep if he tried.

“Davis!”

He was startled by the sound of his name. He turned to see Kathryn jogging towards him.

She grabbed him in a tight and deep hug. Her head tucked in below his collarbone when she hugged him. It felt right and, even though she was smaller than him, her grip enveloped him and he felt an odd sensation. He didn’t realize it, but it was something he missed and may have been longing for all this time. It felt amazing. After replaying the hug to himself later, he came to realize it felt like “home.”

She released him from her embrace and looked up into his eyes glistening with tears, tears welling up on her own.

“We both needed that,” she said. She smiled and ran back to the diner.

Davis turned and let the feelings wash over him. He smiled and walked home into the friscalating dawn.