Shadows in Lawrenceville
By Olivia Salter
Tina had always heard that the past had a way of haunting people, but she never expected it to follow her home on a humid Georgia night—wrapped in a crisp blue suit, standing under the same streetlight where they once planned their escape.
***
The air outside smelled of fried catfish, cut grass, and warm asphalt, thick with the low hum of cicadas. Tina pulled the strings of her hoodie tighter, head down, hoping the exhaustion from her double shift at the diner would drown out everything else.
But the past had other plans.
Glenn.
He leaned against the rusted gate of the old barbershop, hands in his pockets, his frame catching the dull glow of a flickering streetlight. Older. Sharper. The years had carved hollows into his face, the weight of time settled in his eyes.
Tina’s feet stuttered, her body catching up to her mind as her breath came short. It had been fifteen years. He was supposed to be gone.
Glenn stepped forward, the sound of his shoes against pavement far too familiar.
"TeeTee."
Her stomach tightened. No one called her that anymore.
Her voice came out low, cold. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Glenn exhaled, gaze steady. "Came back to make things right."
Tina let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Fifteen years too late for that."
His jaw tightened. "Maybe."
The last time she saw Glenn, they were seventeen, standing in this exact spot, whispering about leaving Lawrenceville behind. She had packed a duffel bag, heart racing with the promise of something bigger than this town. But when the time came, he never showed.
No note. No call. Just gone.
Tina had let the bitterness harden inside her, using it as armor. Glenn had left because he wanted to. Because she wasn’t enough to make him stay.
And now here he was, standing in front of her like time hadn’t carved a canyon between them.
Her arms crossed tight against her chest. "What, you think you can just show up, say sorry, and we’ll be good?"
Glenn’s throat bobbed as he looked down. "No. I don’t expect that."
"Good."
Silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid. Then Glenn pulled something from his pocket—a folded letter, yellowed at the edges. He held it out.
Tina eyed it like it might burn her. "What is that?"
"The truth."
Tina sat on the curb outside her apartment, fingers tightening around the paper. The cicadas had quieted, the air thick and unmoving.
She unfolded the letter.
"Tina,
If you’re reading this, it means I finally found the courage to face you.
I left because I had no choice.
That night, my father found out we were leaving. He didn’t yell. Didn’t threaten. Just sat me down at the kitchen table and smiled. Said if I tried to run, I wouldn’t be the one paying the price.
He meant you.
So I stayed. Took the bruises. Took the silence. Took everything, just to make sure he never touched you.
By the time I got free, I didn’t know how to come back.
But it was never you I wanted to leave behind.
Glenn."
Tina’s chest tightened, her pulse drumming against her ribs.
She had spent fifteen years hating him. Letting that hatred fuel her. And now—now she had to make room for something messier.
For guilt.
For grief.
For the love she never let herself admit was still there.
Her fingers tightened around the edges of the letter, her breath uneven. She wanted to tear it apart, throw it at him, scream that he should have trusted her, that they could’ve figured it out together.
But the truth of it settled in her bones.
Glenn had stayed to protect her.
And in doing so, he had broken them both.
Glenn was still outside when she emerged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders, once broad with teenage arrogance, now carried something heavier.
Tina held up the letter. “You should’ve told me.”
Glenn nodded. “I know.”
“You didn’t trust me.”
His throat bobbed. “That ain’t true.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “Then why didn’t you take me with you?”
Glenn hesitated, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Because I knew you’d follow me into hell, Tina.” His voice was raw, like gravel dragged over pavement. “And I couldn’t let you.”
Tina looked away, fingers gripping the letter like it could anchor her.
For years, she had convinced herself she was better off without him. That he had abandoned her. It was easier than admitting how much it hurt.
But now, standing here, she realized something else:
Glenn had left to save her.
But he had never stopped loving her.
She swallowed, her voice quieter now. “Why come back?”
Glenn exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s dead.”
Tina blinked. “Your father?”
He nodded. “Stroke. A month ago. I don’t know how to feel about it.”
She studied him. He looked different now—not just older, but untethered. Like a man learning how to exist without a shadow looming over him.
He met her gaze. “Figured if I was ever gonna come back, this was my chance.” A pause. “My only chance.”
Tina traced the edge of the letter. Her pulse thrummed, a war between instinct and reason. The past couldn’t be erased. But maybe, just maybe, it could be rewritten.
She took a deep breath, let the words settle before speaking. “You still drink sweet tea?”
Glenn’s lips twitched, the first hint of something almost like a smile. “Depends. Yours or somebody else’s?”
Tina rolled her eyes, but her chest ached in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
She hesitated, then stepped back, holding the door open. Not a grand gesture. Not a promise. Just… a start.
“Come inside, Glenn.”
And for the first time in fifteen years, he did.
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