by Rye Hart
All just to keep my father alive.
I sighed, the tears welling in my eyes making them sting. It felt like the tables had been turned on me, and I was no longer the child, reliant on her parents to care for her. Now, it seemed like I was the mother, taking care of my dad's needs. Making sure we both had a roof over our head and food to eat. All the while, he blew what money he had on whatever he could drink or smoke, choosing his motorcycle buddies over his own daughter. It shamed me to admit, but there was a small part of me that hated him for it.
Sometimes, I wondered why I stayed, why I put up with it. It was complicated, but the easy answer was, I didn't know any other way. He was my family, my father, and he was the last person I had left in this world. Even though common sense told me otherwise, my heart still wanted to believe he could change, that he could come back from that edge he was teetering on. My heart still wanted to believe he'd be my dad again someday.
With years of evidence that he wasn't interested in changing, I found myself believing it less and less. There was a small flickering of belief somewhere inside of my brain that told me that man was long gone, that he wouldn't be coming back. That little voice whispered to me that all that left was the empty shell of the man he used to be, and there was no longer any more to him.
My mind swirling and my heart hurting, I finally slipped off to sleep, my body giving itself over to the exhaustion. In my dreams, my mother was alive again, and my dad was my dad again.
Only in my dreams did I ever feel like I truly belonged anywhere. Only in my dreams, was I truly happy.
~ooo000ooo~
Groaning and wishing I could sleep for the next three days, I rolled over and checked the clock. It was just after eleven in the morning. I had an hour to get ready for my shift at the diner. My body wasn't ready to get out of bed yet, but I forced myself to roll over and stand up. My muscles ached and creaked like I was ten or fifteen years older than I actually was.
Still in my t-shirt and shorts, I padded out of my bedroom and into the living room. Dad wasn't on the couch, which was rare for him. I walked through the living room and into the kitchen, calling out for him.
“Dad? You here?”
Nothing. Only silence.
I didn't give it too much thought as I made my way through the house. Probably had some money left over and needed another fix. Or, he probably met up with the guys for some beers. God knew what my dad did in his spare time, I certainly didn't care. Even though it was a bit earlier than usual for him to be up and around, at least he was out of my hair.
I made a pot of coffee and sat down at the tiny kitchen table. The fridge was empty, so breakfast would just be coffee this morning. I comforted my grumbling tummy knowing that once I got some tips, I could grab something at the diner on break at least. It was one benefit of working at a restaurant.
With a cup of warm coffee in my hands, I walked into the living room and kicked aside some of the empty, crushed beer cans. The living room was disgusting, I normally didn't come in there since it was where my father usually camped out, but since dad was gone, some TV time on the couch sounded nice. I plopped down in his spot and reached for the remote. That's when I realized something was different.
The room was emptier. Not in an obvious way that you'd notice right away, but something was different. It was a small, subtle change. It wasn't like the TV or the valuables were missing – not that we had much of real value – but, there was an emptiness that hadn't existed before.
Now that I was sitting there looking around, alerted to the change, I realized the pile of dad's clothes in the corner by the couch was all gone. Completely. Laundry day? I cocked an eyebrow as I raised the hot mug to my lips. Normally, I did all of the laundry around the house. But, maybe he'd gone down to the laundromat and decided to do his own wash for a change. It seemed really odd and out of character, but anything was possible, I supposed.
The longer I sat there though, the more I realized that wasn't it. I scanned the room and noticed a few photos missing from the wall. Photos of Mom and me. My heart raced as I stared at the empty spaces on the wall. Why would the pictures be gone now? After all these years? There were white squares on the dingy wall where the photos had once been, making their absence all the more noticeable.
I stood up, and furiously started searching the room. I looked for my dad's wallet. Gone. His shoes and his boots. Gone. I rushed to the closet in the hall and threw the door open, only to find the suitcases we had inside were also gone.
My dad had left. He just up and left me without a word. I turned and searched the room for any sign of a note, some reason for him leaving – for something. I grabbed my phone to call him, but then stopped when I remembered his phone had been shut off months ago. I'd stopped paying it and was now kicking myself. With no way to reach him, I felt utterly lost. I didn't know his friend's numbers. I didn't even know their names.
My heart sunk, and my eyes burned with tears.
All these months caring for him, all the sacrifices I'd made in order to keep a roof over his head, hoping my real father would return to me – and he was gone. He left me, without even saying goodbye.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and my blood boiled. I was caught somewhere between anger and hurt and couldn't decide which emotion was more powerful than the other. I wanted to fall down and sob my eyes out, but at the same time, I also wanted to punch something. My fists were balled up at my sides, and I paced the room, a scream building up inside of me.
Finally, when I'd had enough, I pounded my fist into the wall and let that scream out. I screamed long and loud, all of my pain and all of my frustration echoing around the house. Tears fell down my cheeks as I slid to the floor, my knuckles feeling like I'd broken them. I didn't care, though.
The pain in my hand was nothing compared to the pain I felt inside.
CHAPTER THREE
DECLAN
Meredith and my niece and nephews were crowded around Jack, all of them looking at the infant with wide eyes and wider smiles. I sat across from them on the couch, Killian beside me. My insides were churning with thoughts and emotions I had no idea how to begin processing. I'm sure I sat there looking like an idiot with a look of stunned shock on my face.
If anybody even noticed, they didn't say anything though. They were all focused on the baby. It hadn't even been a day, and Jack had already been welcomed into the family like he'd always been a part of it. Meredith held the baby in her arms, cooing at him with a big grin on her face.
Ava, my niece, sat beside her and stroked his red hair – the same color as the hair on her own head. Meredith was a more traditional redhead – a true ginger – which meant all the kids were redheaded, even the boys, Keaton and Cole. Keaton looked like his dad, and technically me I guessed, with more brown than red, but Cole had the orange-red ginger locks of his mother.
Poor kid. Gingers never really fared that well back when I'd gone to school. They were always singled out, mocked, and bullied, just because of some fluke of genetics. Hopefully though, the times had changed. Especially since I now had one of my own.
“You can stay as long as you like,” Meredith said, her bright, blue eyes staring back at me as she kissed Jack's forehead. “I've been wanting another baby in the house for some time, but Killian says three's enough.”
“It's more than enough,” he chuckled and then took a sip from his coffee mug. “We should have stopped at one.”
He winked at his children. Ava, the oldest, smiled brightly. She was daddy's little girl, through and through. She might not be able to run the family business in the future, but she held the key to her father's heart. Keaton and Cole, the twins, didn't even seem to notice their father's tease.
“Seriously, it's been too long since we've had a baby in this house,” she said.
Keaton and Cole were four. Ava was six. Many parents might be enjoying their freedom from diapers and sleepless nights, but Meredith always had this look in her eyes when she was around babies
– she wanted a large family. Three, in her mind, was most definitely not enough.
Killian would eventually give in to her. I knew he would as sure as I knew my own name. He loved that woman more than life itself, and while we might disagree on a lot of things pertaining to family, he was one hell of a dad. I would give him all the credit in the world for that. From where I sat, not that I had any experience, mind you, he made fatherhood look easy – he was certainly better at it than our own dad was.
Killian's eyes narrowed as he looked me. “So what are you doing for work, Declan?”
I shrugged. “Just picking up odd jobs now and then,” I said.
My brother knew what I did, his family did not. I didn't want to get into the details in front of his kids. Better to not ruin their happy little family with talk of that.
“If you'd like something more stable, now that you have a kid to provide for, I can put you to work,” he said.
My jaw clenched, and I looked away. I stared down at the carpeting, knowing it was eventually going to come to that – and it had. The carpet was pristine and white, even with three kids. Just like the furniture. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. A perfect little family. A perfect little suburban life. Yet, it was all a facade for the secret life my brother lived, a life I wanted nothing to do with.
“Oh, that's right,” Meredith said. “Since Jim left, you do have an opening.”
My gaze fell on Meredith. She knew very little of what her husband actually did for a living. Basically, she knew about the bar, and that was it. She was a good, Catholic woman, and if she knew what type of job my brother was talking about, well, she'd have run for the hills and taken her kids with her. I knew Killian would never let that happen, so he kept his real business from her.
“Jim a bartender, I'm guess? I can do that,” I said quietly.
Killian didn't say anything at first, the silence hung in the air between us a little too long. I looked up at him and he gave me a half-smile.
“Yes, something like that,” he said.
I didn't like the way he said that, but for the moment, in front of his perfect family, I wasn't about to cause a fight. Besides, he was helping me out there, letting me stay with my son since I had nowhere else to go.
“Actually, I have to run over to the pub for a delivery,” Killian said, glancing at his watch. “Care to join me?”
I looked over at Jack, but before I could say anything, Meredith flashed me a wide smile.
“I'll watch the little bugger,” she said. “Go, have some brother time. Catch up. It's been too long.”
~ooo000ooo~
We arrived at O'Shea's Pub, and right away, I knew we weren't there for a delivery. Rory, our other brother, was already there, along with a few other faces I'd met over the years – mostly through our father. They were all gathered around a table in the back of the pub. Ten other guys in total were there, all of them looking at me with varying expressions of surprise.
“Declan, long time, bro,” Rory said, greeting me with a handshake.
Rory looked a lot like us, almost identical, except for being the shortest and skinniest of the O'Shea clan. His hair was the same color as ours, but he kept it longer and shaggier, pulled back in a ponytail.
“Yeah, long time,” I said.
Instead of feeling happy to see him, I felt dread. A lead weight that settled in my stomach almost convinced me to turn and walk out of there. I could figure out some way to provide for Jack, right? Killian must have noticed my hesitance, because he pulled me in deeper into the room.
“Declan here has some news for the family,” he said, giving me a grin that was almost predatory. “Don't you, brother?”
Family. Yes, I guess this room was filled with some of our so-called family. There were uncles and cousins that I hadn't seen in more years that I could count. Most of them I hadn't seen since my dad died and I was no longer forced to stick around because I felt an obligation to be there.
Still, it felt like a room full of strangers, and I didn't like the way they all stared at me. They looked me up and down, like they were sizing me up.
“What is it?” Rory asked, smirking. “Got yourself a new woman?”
“Better,” Killian said. “Go on, Declan. Tell them.”
“I – uhhh – I have a son,” I said, tucking my hands into my pockets.
Rory's eyes grew wide with disbelief, then he broke out into the most obnoxious laughter I'd ever heard. His face was red, tears streamed down his cheeks, and he was having trouble catching his breath between cackles of laughter.
“It's true,” Killian said. “Meredith is watching him right now. Meaning, we have a new member to welcome into the O'Shea clan.”
“Good on you, Declan,” Rory said, patting me hard on the back. “I think this calls for a beer. What do you think?”
“Sure,” I said through gritted teeth.
I kept my hands buried in my pockets, clenched into fists, and fought the urge to turn and run, to get as far away from them all as I possibly could. There was nothing for me there. I was an idiot to think otherwise.
“Listen Declan, I have a job for you,” Killian said, seeking to overwhelm me and not give me time to think. “It's nothing too bad. I just need you to rough up a guy who owes us some money. Think you can handle that?”
“Rough them up, how?” I asked.
Killian shrugged. “You're a big, scary looking guy. A fighter. I doubt you'll have to do much to get this old man to pay up,” he said. “Just scare him a bit, you know? I'll pay you well for your time. One thing you will never lack while you work for us is money. Or family.”
“How much?” I asked, not even believing the words as they came out of my mouth.
“Two grand. It'll be useful to have someone like you around, honestly. We need somebody around just to look tough and intimidate some of these fuckers. Scare some sense into these dirtbags sometimes, right?” Killian said with a smirk.
Rory came back with my beer, handing it over. I raised the bottle and took a long drink, trying to get my head together. Everything was happening so fast and I was getting pulled into something I'd wanted no part of for so long.
“Yeah, it's good to have him here. He's a lot scarier than I am,” Rory laughed.
“He's scarier than anyone here,” Killian said. “Just having your presence with us will scare people straight, Declan. You probably won't even need to get your hands dirty.”
“I won't kill anyone,” I said sternly. “This is all nuts, but if I'm going to do this, I'm drawing that line right now.”
“No killing necessary, man. Just scare the bastards,” Killian said. “That's all we need.”
He was so different from his family man persona, it wasn't even funny. It was like he was two different people here and at home. It almost broke my heart for his wife. She had no idea what her husband did behind the scenes, what he was really like when he wasn't with her.
“I won't hurt anyone either. Not for no reason,” I said.
Killian sighed, leaning against the wall. He shared a look with Rory and they both rolled their eyes and laughed. They were both obviously amused by me and it showed. Both of them were trying hard to stifle their laughter and were failing.
“Fine. No hurting people either,” he said. “Not unless there's a good reason for it. You have my word, brother.”
I chugged down the beer. “I determine the reasons as well,” I said. “Meaning I'm not going to just beat the shit out of someone because they owe you money. I'm not like that.”
Killian shrugged. “Works for me. Like I said, just your presence will do the trick in most cases,” he said. “So you in or you out, Declan?”
“I'll do this job for you first. After that, we'll see,” I said.
I slammed the bottle down on the table and walked out of the room. Whatever shit they were involved in, I didn't want to be part of it. Could I scare some poor sap into paying up? Sure. I could handle that. I looked threatening enough. Un
derground fighting will do that to a person.
But actually putting hands on somebody? Killing somebody? No, I couldn't do that. I wouldn't be a part of that.
“Rory is going with you,” Killian called out. “He'll take you over there now.”
“Fine.” I said.
Rory and I had never been all that close. Of the two, I preferred Killian over Rory, and that said a lot. At least Killian tried to act like a normal member of society most of the time. He could be a charming, sarcastic, funny as hell, son of a bitch when he wanted to be. He could be a good guy, a fun guy to hang out with sometimes.
Rory, on the other hand, had no intention of pretending to be on the right side of the law, or a normal, functioning member of society. He wasn't charming, he was arrogant and condescending instead. He wasn't funny to anybody but himself, and he was a straight up prick most of the time. He relished his life as a criminal, a drug dealer, a member of a crime family. He liked living the lifestyle of a mobster. There was nothing else about him, not a single good or decent quality that I could think of.
He was the last person I wanted to work with, but there we were. I sighed and walked out of the pub, Rory behind me.
CHAPTER FOUR
KARA
I walked up to my front door, and instantly knew something was off. Just like I'd known something was off in the living room earlier, I knew something wasn't right as I stood there. I reached out and found that the door handle turned freely – even though I always remembered to lock up when I left. I pushed on it, letting the door swing inward. It moved a few inches inward, but then stopped with a creak. It was then I realized the door frame was broken.
“Dad?” I called out. “Did you forget your keys?”
I stared into the living room and saw that the place was in shambles. All of the beer cans and bottles that littered the ground had been kicked all over the room. Cushions that had been on the couch when I left had been stripped off and lay on the floor. Books, picture frames, and knick knacks had all been thrown off the shelves.