The Boyfriend I Made Up Ordered A Ride I Never Booked Chapter 08
I sat in the interview room. Without anyone prompting me, I laid out every detail of the crash, clear
as day.
That morning, Samuel was wearing a white button-down. A tiny grease stain from my Lobster Roll
was on his collar.
The song playing was my favorite-“Lucky.”
I even hummed along for a few bars.
When the truck came at us, Samuel shouted my name. Then he yanked the wheel hard, turning the passenger side away from the impact-putting himself in the line of fire.
The guardrail was about to pierce through. He fought through the pain, using every last bit of strength to reach over and unbuckle my seatbelt. His palms were drenched in sweat.
He was still whispering, “Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”
As I was thrown from the car, I looked back. He was smiling at me. His lips formed the words, “I
love you.”
Then the flames engulfed the whole car.
“The truck was blue-Swift Logistics. There was a long scratch on the left rear wheel well. The
driver was male, with a scar above his left eyebrow. He stuck his head out for a second, then hit the
gas and took off. The plate was J-A-zero-zero-three-seven-two. That’s it. No mistake.”
I looked the officer in the eye. My voice was steady. Not a single tremor.
“I remember everything. I’m not wrong.”
The detective compared my current testimony to the confused fragments I’d given before. Then he
cross-referenced it with the dashcam footage we’d recovered from Samuel’s car.
The camera had been damaged in the explosion. They’d only just managed to salvage parts of it.
What they had matched my account perfectly. Even the scar above the driver’s eyebrow-visible in the grainy footage-lined up with what I’d said.
The detective finally nodded. “The chain of evidence is solid. We can move forward with the arrest.”
Only then did I finally breathe again.
When they caught the hit-and-run driver, he denied everything at first.
Then I stood across from him and described his scar. The gray jacket he’d been wearing. The hole i the left sleeve.
His face went pale. He slumped in his chair. And he confessed.
On the day of the trial, I stood outside the Fairwood County Courthouse, holding Samuel’s photo
He was smiling in it. His eyes were bright, like they held whole galaxies. The judge read the verdict:
seven years in state prison, plus a restitution order of $160,000.
I walked out of the courthouse. The sky was blue. The air was soft.
I placed the verdict sheet gently on the Willow Park Memorial Bench-our bench-and set a
container of steaming Gourmet Lobster Rolls beside it.
“Samuel, look. I found him. Don’t worry about me. I’ll eat well. I’ll take care of Mom. I’ll live a good life. And I’ll never forget you.”
The wind rustled through the leaves. It sounded like his voice, laughing softly, saying, “Good.”
The day the case closed, Morgan dragged me out for a celebratory dinner. She ordered all my
favorites.
Mom sat next to me, piling food onto my plate. Tears dripped onto the table.
She smiled through them and wiped her face. “Our Elena finally made it through.”
After dinner, I went back to the Oak Creek Condo alone. I cleaned every corner.
I watered the dried-up succulents. I pulled out the half-finished scarf and sat in the living room light, knitting the last of it.
As I finished the final stitch, I could almost feel Samuel beside me, ruffling my hair, laughing. “My
wife’s so talented.”
I looked out the window. The moon was full, flooding the room with silver light.
I folded the scarf neatly and placed it on his spot on the couch. Next to it, I set a fresh container of
Lobster Rolls.
I knew he could hear me.
And I knew I was really okay now.
From here on out, I’d live for both of us.
I’d just always stop for a second when I saw a black Mercedes-Benz Sprinter Van on the street.
Like he was still sitting inside, leaning out the window, smiling at me, saying
“Get in, baby. I’m taking you for Lobster Rolls.”
