One Percenter (Entangled Embrace)

by D. R. Graham

  When it’s my turn, I stagger up to the ball machine. The ball slips out of my hands and hits the floor with a loud thud. It rolls backward and ends up in our pile of shoes. “Oops.”

  “Okay, she’s cut off,” Reese yells. She wraps her arm around my waist to escort me and prop me on a chair to help me change back into my fancy shoes.

  I don’t remember the ride home at all, and I only vaguely remember Haley and Reese helping me to the front steps. One of them rings the bell and I rest my forehead on the wall as we wait for the door to open. Uncle Blaine shows up wearing only boxer shorts and looks pretty good for an old dude. He doesn’t seem particularly impressed with me, though. Haley apologizes and passes me over to lean on his shoulder.

  “Thanks for bringing her home,” he tells them, then closes the door.

  “Sorry, Uncle Blaine,” I say as the foyer spins around us. “I had too many margaritas.”

  “I see that.” He helps me climb the stairs and leads me down the hall to my room. “How about you sleep it off and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  “Is Cooper home?”

  “I think he’s at Sam’s.”

  “Oh, good. Love sucks, but it’s worth it. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, it’s worth it.” He gently places me on my bed and pulls a blanket over my shoulder. “You should go to sleep now.”

  “Okay. Thanks for being my uncle.”

  He bends over and kisses my forehead. “Thanks for being my niece.”

  A horrible screech wakes me like an ax slamming into my skull. The sound comes again, and it takes me a second before I realize that it’s Elizabeth screaming. It is the most awful sound I’ve ever heard. Terror floods me. I jump out of bed, but the room spins and I fall onto my hands and knees. Elizabeth screams again and then starts wailing as if she is being brutally murdered. Still on my knees, I crawl to the door and fumble to turn the knob.

  The door swings open. Blaine stands in the hall, his face completely void of color, and his eyes are dark with a pain that I’ve seen only twice before in my lifetime—once when my dad told me that Aiden’s mom had been killed in an accident, and then again when my mom told me that my dad had been murdered. Blaine drops onto his knees beside me and pulls me tight. Each time Elizabeth screams, it feels as if I’m being electrocuted. The dread seeps into my pores and makes my skin turn cold. Uncle Blaine holds my head into his chest and rocks me. I don’t even know what’s wrong, but I know it’s bad, so I start bawling. More electricity shoots across the surface of my skin as I consider the only two possibilities that would make Elizabeth scream like that.

  I can’t breathe. No. No. No.

  “I’m sorry, Tienne,” Blaine whispers.

  “Is it my mom or Cooper? Just tell me.”

  “It’s Cooper.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “No, sweetie.” He chokes on his own emotion and continues to say what I don’t want to hear. What I can’t hear. He squeezes me tightly. Then everything goes black.

  My sheets are soaked with my tears, but I don’t have the energy or motivation to move my face. I can hear people coming and going downstairs. My mom slept next to me for a while, but she’s not here now. I’m all alone, and it’s dark.

  The sun angles into my window and the fog in my brain lifts just enough for the agony to inch back in. A wave of nausea lurches through me and I leap up, barely making it to the bathroom in time to puke into the toilet. After another round of retching, I crawl back into bed and drop my cheek back down on the wet sheets. This must be how people feel right before they decide to kill themselves. I never understood before how excruciating hopelessness can be. My phone is ringing, but I don’t even look to see who’s calling.

  The next time I wake, I hear voices outside my bedroom. Blaine whispers, “His body was found at the bottom of a high-rise under construction. The police are concerned that it may be linked to Bert’s death, like some sort of turf war payback or something.”

  My mom responds, but she speaks so softly that I can’t make out the words.

  A few minutes later, the door opens. Mom kisses me on the forehead and places a glass of water on the bedside table. My eyes are open, but I don’t look at her, I don’t blink. I just stare at the clothes in my open closet. The mattress shifts as she slides into bed next to me then wraps her arm over my waist.

  “What happened to him?” I ask.

  She strokes my hair and sighs. “They don’t know if he fell or—”

  “He didn’t jump.”

  “It might have been retaliation. They don’t know.”

  Who would do that to a kid? I know for a fact that children are off-limits according to the Noir et Bleu creed. Anyone who would kill a sixteen-year-old as innocent as Cooper in retaliation for a drug deal gone bad either disregarded the outlaw laws or isn’t a One Percenter. If there really is someone that monstrous in the world, I look forward to the justice that they have coming.

  Mom must be able to tell that I’m getting worked up because she whispers, “They’re going to take care of it. Don’t worry.”

  “He wanted you to know that he was gay,” I say quietly. “He wanted to know that you accepted him for who he really was.” I roll over so I can see her face.

  “He told me.”

  I search her haggard face for her reaction. “He did?”

  She nods and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “He told me after we went to see the matinee of your play. You were really good, by the way.”

  “Oh, I didn’t—”

  “It’s okay, baby. I know why you didn’t want me there. I’m not proud of what happened last time. Cooper and I went out for dinner afterward and we ran into Sam. He introduced him as his boyfriend.”

  “Were you shocked?”

  “No, I already suspected that he might be gay.”

  “Were you disappointed?”

  “No. I loved him just the way he was. He was so special.” She runs her hand down my arm then holds my hand. “I love you just the way you are, too.” Her eyes fill with tears, which is surprising. It has been a very long time since we’ve talked. It’s been even longer since she was sober when we talked. The fact that she’s not high right now, even though I’m sure she desperately wants to be, is the most motherly thing that she has done since I was five years old. It makes me feel safe, and I wish she could always be like this. I close my eyes and fall asleep clutching her hand, still feeling the warmth of what she said inside my chest.

  It’s dark again when I wake up. Mom’s gone. Elizabeth and Blaine are outside my door whispering. “Maybe we should invite him to come in. She might respond to him.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Elizabeth says. “She was trying to stay away from him and she’s so vulnerable right now.”

  “I know, but…” Blaine hesitates before he says, “I feel bad making him sit out there on his bike all night again.”

  “Let’s wait until Leland comes home.”

  “What’s taking him so long to get back?” Blaine sounds frustrated, maybe even angry that Leland is MIA.

  “I don’t know. I told him what happened and he said he would get on the next available flight.”

  After they go downstairs, I turn on my lamp and slide out of bed. It takes all my energy, but I crawl to the window and kneel with my cheek resting on the windowsill. Aiden is sitting on his bike in front of the house. He looks up at my window and lifts his hand in a solemn wave that I know doesn’t even begin to convey how devastated he feels for me right now. He reaches into his jacket and types on his phone. My phone buzzes: Do you want company?

  It breaks my heart, but I can’t handle anything right now. Instead of answering, I crawl back, turn off my light, and slip under the covers.

  It’s raining outside—the drops pelt off the roof. Elizabeth sits on the edge of my bed and brushes my hair. “You have to eat something.”

  I roll onto my stomach and hug the blankets. She leaves and comes ba
ck with a bowl of soup. She places it on my desk, then steps into the hall to open the linen closet. She forces me to drag my ass out of the bed so she can put fresh sheets on it. I sit slumped at my desk staring at the soup until she is finished, then I climb back in and bury my face in the pillow.

  “The funeral is the day after tomorrow at one o’clock,” she says softly and sits back down on the edge of my mattress. “If you want to say something at the service let me know. It’s fine if you don’t feel up to it.” She rubs my back.

  “I want to say something,” I mumble into the pillow.

  “Okay. The police want to speak to you when you’re ready. They’re working really hard to figure out what happened.”

  I don’t say anything and I don’t move, but rage rips through my body.

  “Leland was held up in Hong Kong because there is some sort of storm. All the flights have been grounded. He asked me to tell you that he’s incredibly sorry and he’ll be home as soon as he can. Cassidy is taking care of everything at work for both of us, so don’t worry about that. Cara has called a lot, so let me know when you’re ready to have visitors.”

  “Mmm,” I groan so she’ll know I heard her and hopefully leave me alone.

  She leaves and my nose starts to bleed. The stain grows across the fresh sheets.

  The sky is dark again. Blaine takes the untouched bowl of soup away after checking on me. He left a folded hand towel next to my pillow, I guess in case my nose starts bleeding again. After the door clicks shut, I turn on my lamp, slide off the bed, and crawl to the window. Aiden is sitting on his bike, but he’s reading, so he doesn’t notice me. I reach over and grab my phone off the bedside table.

  “Chang’s. What you want?”

  “Hey Chang, it’s Tienne.”

  “Ah. Hi, Ten Ten. Regular?”

  “It’s for Gylly.”

  “15 and 36. Chicken and rice. Black bean sauce and broccoli. Those his favorite.”

  “Can you ask Eddy to deliver those and a coffee or a Red Bull to 1349 West Pendlebury? Gylly’s sort of on a stakeout, so he’s on his bike in front of that address.”

  “Okey dokey. You want something?”

  “No thanks. I want to pay for it with my credit card, though.”

  “Hold on. Okay, shoot.”

  I give him my number and tell him to add a tip for Eddy and then hang up. Aiden notices me sitting at the window and waves. I blow on the window and trace a heart with my finger. He texts to ask if I want company. I don’t respond.

  Eddy shows up about twenty minutes later and Aiden texts again to thank me. I turn off my light and crawl back into bed.

  It’s sunny when I wake up. I roll over and check if Cooper brought me a cup of tea yet. My bedside table is empty. It takes a second before I remember why the tea isn’t there. It doesn’t make me sad. It makes me really mad. I get out of bed and shower. My hair is still wet when I sit down to write a eulogy. Anger bubbles up in my blood, so I pull out my Noir et Bleu tank top. I tuck my dad’s switchblade into the back pocket of my cut-off jean shorts then paint my fingernails and toenails black and blue alternating. I line my eyes with heavy black eyeliner and coat on a couple layers of red lipstick. I tuck the eulogy into my front pocket, and the last thing I do is open my jewelry box to find the silver bracelet that Cooper gave me for my sixteenth birthday.

  “All right, let’s take care of business,” I say to myself and leave my room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Both sides of my family and their friends file down the aisle of the church in solemn silence. To my left, dark suits, expensive shoes, and conservative dresses. To my right, ripped denim, leather vests, and skanky skirts. Twenty uniformed cops watch from along the back wall with their arms folded across their chests.

  My push-up bra is creating way too much cleavage for a real church, but the Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club tank top is a necessary show of respect. If God is somewhere up there in the rafters, He’s probably disappointed with my trashy funeral attire. There’s no sign of Him. Maybe He’s too scared to be here.

  One of my dad’s old helmets rests on a chair next to me at the altar. Uncle Ronnie set it there to remind everyone who my father was. As if anyone could forget. My mom is sprawled across the pew in the front row to my right. Her blond hair matted, her makeup smeared, she leans on Uncle Terry’s leg as if she’s the one who’s dead. It’s pathetic. The judgmental whispers from the left side of the church make a tingly feeling creep up my throat. I swallow hard and close my eyes. Too bad that doesn’t make the mortification disappear.

  The eulogy clenched in my hand is soggy from sweat. I place the curled paper on my lap and wipe my palms on my cut-off jean shorts. Shit. It’s too hot in here. If they don’t get this over with soon I’m going to pass out and end up a worse mess than my mom.

  Leland walks in. Now I can’t breathe. The sun silhouettes his face, but the tailored suit and his perfect posture confirm it’s him. To avoid eye contact between us, I focus on Auntie Elizabeth sitting in the front pew to my left, as far away from my mom as possible. She’s crying into Uncle Blaine’s linen handkerchief. He smiles at me and mouths, Are you doing okay?

  I force myself to nod, even though I’m not doing okay. I stare up at the ceiling to prevent tears from escaping.

  The minister sneaks out of a side door and slides onto a wooden bench behind me. My hands shake, partly because his arrival means the service will start soon, and partly because if he sits there during my speech, my ass in my short shorts will be in his direct view the entire time.

  Sam sits in the third row sobbing. His parents and sister are several rows behind him, but nobody comforts him. I catch Auntie Elizabeth’s attention and point at Sam. She leans back and waves him forward to join them.

  The door at the back opens and the Gyllenhalls enter.

  Aiden stares at me as he walks down the aisle. My entire body trembles and I can’t swallow. The black jeans, motorcycle boots, and white dress shirt under a leather vest are his version of dress clothes, and he’s even more striking than I remember. His sleeve cuffs are rolled up and his collar button is undone, which gives me a glimpse of a new tattoo on his neck.

  He steps aside to let his dad and uncle file into the reserved pew directly behind my mom. Then he continues toward me. The church appears to spin around him as he walks. The faces and stained glass windows circle in a blur of color as if we’re inside a kaleidoscope. He takes the two steps up onto the red-carpeted altar, reaches out, and squeezes my hand tightly. His skin on mine makes the spinning stop. My eyes close as he leans down. “Sorry, Ti,” he whispers. His right palm slides to my neck and his lips graze my cheek.

  The tears I’ve been fighting win the battle and drip over my eyelashes.

  Before he can turn to go back and sit with his family, I reach for his hand. “Stay, Gylly.”

  He nods. The only other chair beside the altar is the one my dad’s helmet is on, so he leans his back against the wall. Leland is still near the door of the church next to a cop. His eyebrows angle together and he glares at Aiden with contempt. He better not let Aiden see it. Better yet, he should wipe it off his face regardless. What the hell did he expect? He hasn’t been here for me. I don’t give a shit that there was bad weather, or that he works for a multi-billion dollar company on important international deals. I needed him here. Aiden would have quit his job, stolen a plane, and flew himself through a cyclone to get to my side. Leland let me down, and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive him for that.

  When the minister stands, one of the cops shuts the double doors with a loud bang. Uncle Blaine speaks first and talks about things that make my mind wander back to when I was a kid. His voice drones, and more people speak after him, I think. I’m wearing flip-flops, so during the prayers and sermon I stare at my toes. My black nail polish looks ridiculously inappropriate. It doesn’t matter. Cooper would have understood that I needed to feel like myself in order to get through this.

  “Tienne,�
� the minister’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts. With a gesture, he invites me to take my place at the podium. My fingertips dig into the plastic seat of the chair. Maybe if I don’t let go, none of this will be happening. Not that freezing time would help, since the worst part has already happened. My heart races and the room suddenly gets stuffier. I absolutely don’t want to say good-bye, but I will regret it if I don’t take this opportunity to tell everyone what a special person Cooper was. I refuse to cry. Not now. After a stuttered attempt at a breath, I pry my fingers off the chair and stand. My head is light and my mouth feels crammed full of cotton balls, but I force myself to step forward.

  Instead of looking at anyone in the congregation, I stare at the wood of the podium and unroll my speech. The minister bends the microphone lower for me. The first thing I see when I look up is the row of cops at the back. They don’t invite themselves to all Noir et Bleu funerals, but when it is a suspicious death linked this closely to Randy’s family, they do. I can almost feel them tense up, waiting for me to say something that will either be incriminating or incite violence. I push my hair back over my shoulders to show off the motorcycle club support patch. Breathe.

  Everyone is silently waiting for me, which makes the thuds of my mom sliding off the pew and my uncles moving to prop her back up even more obvious. The silver bracelet Cooper gave me for my birthday slides up my forearm. To ward off tears I bite my lip until I taste blood. I glance at my dad’s empty chair then begin reading the eulogy I wrote.

  “On Cooper’s first day of kindergarten, my dad was in prison and my mom was, well, she was like that.” I point at the platinum blond puddle of skin and bones in the front row. People to my left gasp.

  “The laundry hadn’t been done in weeks, so I had to dress Cooper in a pair of my jeans and roll them up at the bottom. The pockets were embroidered with sparkly butterflies, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t ever complain.” The tears are winning again, so I pause for a second to look up at the ceiling. “I packed a granola bar that I stole from a friend’s house into a brown liquor store bag for Cooper’s lunch, and we walked to school holding hands.