Page 9 of Reasons We Break

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously not, dude.” When Rajan was arrested, he apparently had THC, coke,andfentanyl in his system. He couldn’t claim surprise about the first two, but that last one had been a shock. Or at least, Rajan told himself it was a shock. Part of him knew the high that day was different—clearly, the friend who’d been raving about the “purity” of his supply was talking out of his ass. Anyway, the judge wasn’t impressed either, so on top of everything else, Rajan isn’t allowed to have any fun for the next four months.

“And how’s the job?” Kat asks.

It’s no coincidence Kat went from drugs to his new job at a local roofing company. She definitely knows what happens there. Rajan shrugs, repressing a wince from the pain in his shoulder. Swinging a hammer for hours can do that. Even the foreman noticed; Rajan thought he was going to tell him to take more breaks, but instead he offered to pay him under the table for overtime work. Rajan wasn’t about to say no.

“Well,” Kat says after a pause, “I’m glad we got a chance to talk.” She closes his file. “You can go after we sign those papers at Hillway.”

That’s theAttend community serviceprobation condition. Rajan was given several options, and Hillway seemed the least mind-numbing. But apparently, he has to sign something before he starts that basically says he promises to be nice to his mentor. The honour system for criminals? He finds it funny, but sure.

Rajan follows Kat out of the office. There are three others in the waiting room. She waves to them. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Sit tight!”

Nobody responds; they’re riveted by the TV. Rajan gets the surprise of a lifetime when he sees his old drug dealer’s mug shot on-screen.Perry?No way. But there he is, with his ratty beard, massive eyebags, and the scar above the left side of his scowling mouth.

Rajan hangs back to listen to the news anchor.

“...seizure of illicit drugs including several kilograms each of fentanyl, methamphetamines, cocaine, and numerous firearms. Five people with suspected ties to the gang known as the Lion’s Share face charges of drug trafficking and firearms offenses. Among them: a car dealership owner and an accountant from a well-respected Kelowna firm. Police say this was the result of an extended investigation and is a huge win against the drug trade in the Okanagan region of BC.”

They show all the mug shots side by side, and Rajan laughs under his breath. The fact that he recognizes every single one probably doesn’t say much good about him.

“Come along, Rajan!” Kat trills from the elevator. He finally makes himself move.

The car is crowded. People eye him warily, seeing that he’s coming from the corrections floor of this government building. Rajan offers a smile he hopes looks off-kilter, and stands with Kat. As the doors close, he notices a Punjabi auntie leaning against the opposite wall. He vaguely recognizes her. Probably from his childhood, a time when his family actually participated in their community.

The auntie makes eye contact with him. Manners his mother drilled into him spring out without conscious thought. “Sat Sri Akaal, Auntie ji.”

People look his way, then away when they realize he’s not speaking English. The auntie blinks. But then she smiles tentatively. “Sat Sri Akaal, putt. I’m trying to remember your name...Rajan, right?”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“Oh, you’re all grown up now,” she coos in that way aunties do. “So tall, so handsome. You must be in university.”

Why do people always thinkmoreschool must be the next step after high school? He barely got out of that hellhole. “No, Auntie. I’ve just been living in Surrey.”

“Ah. Down south. But why not school? Are you taking time off?”

Something in him sours, right then. The smile is a lie. The warm voice, the compliments, all lies. She knows he’s not going to school. Ofcourseshe knows about him—there’s enough gossip. And she saw him come from the corrections floor. She’s trying to get more details, to give her something else to gossip about.

Well, fine.

Rajan looks around the crowded elevator before switching to English. “I was in jail for the last six months, if that counts. I ran over a guy and killed him. But, I’m happy to be back.”

He finishes with a wink. The auntie’s expression is priceless. As is the dead silence of the whole elevator.

Kat’s the only one still grinning. “What a nice purse! Where’d you get it?” she asks the lady beside her, who is not-so-discreetly shielding her handbag with both arms. No response, but Kat seems unfazed. When they reach the main floor, she’s the first out, whistling out of tune. “Off we go, Rajan!”

He follows without looking back.

Hillway House is across the street. The sidewalk is slushy, the last late snowfall of the year melting in the light April rain. They wait at the curb for a vehicle to pass.

It’s an ice-cream truck. Kat’s whistling is drowned out somewhat, thankfully, by its music. Who’s getting ice cream in this shit weather, anyway? Rajan glances through the windshield. Does a double take.

The driver is staring at him.

He’s just some random white guy. Rajan doesn’t know him, and their eye contact lasts only a moment before he looks back at the road. But something feels...off.

The truck passes, splashing slush onto the curb. Its song fades. The entire encounter lasts less than two seconds, but Rajan’s suddenly hit with the urge to run.

Kat doesn’t notice. She’s already crossing the street. Reluctantly, Rajan follows.