Page 43 of His to Burn

Asia grimaced but then walked over to the row of monitors and opened a small cubby on top. She pulled out a yellow legal pad and pen.

“Drawing is not my forte, but I will attempt to sketch something out,” she said.

I watched as she wrote on the paper, her hand motions concise, efficient, and most important of all, certain.

“So you really do know how to get there?” I asked.

She must have heard my surprise. “The route from here to the judge’s house is ingrained in my brain forever. I can even tell you about all the stuff in between, like the coffee place about a mile from his house with the best apple fritters ever made, and thegrocery store a mile and a half away, the steakhouse two miles away that allowed Judge Hanlon to combine his love of a martini over dinner with cardio and avoid an embarrassing DUI at the same time. So, yes, I’m very familiar with the area.”

She finished and handed me the paper.

She told the truth. Drawing really wasn’t her forte, but the route was clear.

“This is the way you would suggest?” I asked, looking up at her.

She had drawn streets with a star marking the courthouse and another marking Judge Hanlon’s house on the opposite side of the paper.

“Yup. It’s the most direct and usually the fastest.”

“Good,” I said. “Now draw three alternative routes and we’ll go.”

“We’ll go? Just like that?” she asked, looking at me both skeptically and with hope.

“Yeah. Just like that,” I responded.

She still looked skeptical. “What’s the problem, Counselor?”

She studied me, clearly trying to decide on what to say next.

Finally, she sighed, then met my eye. “How do I know you aren’t going to take these directions and ditch me?”

“You don’t,” I responded.

I wasn’t particularly harsh, but I still expected outrage or tears or both.

But the ever-surprising Asia just nodded. “Thanks for being honest,” she said.

Then she went back to her drawings.

“Why did you ask for so many?” she asked as she worked.

“We need a plan, but we don’t know what we’re stepping into. This gives us flexibility. Hopefully the direct route will work, but if not, we need to be ready to change things on the fly. So this gives us options,” I said.

She nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Good. And when we’re out, I need you to follow my lead,” I said.

“I have no plans of doing otherwise,” she responded, still focused on the pages.

I watched her work, struck by how calm I felt.

The situation was objectively bad, but my natural tendency to keep a cool head, which was shaped and honed by the crucible Iwouldn’t dare call a childhood and my years in the military, almost always kept me on an even keel.

But this was more than that.

This was her.

Something about this woman took the edge off, and that confused me to no end. I was spared having to consider it more when she finished.