by A J Love
“Can I help ya?” I ask, stopping in front of him.
He smiles, wide and toothy. “Hopefully. I’m looking for someone. Layton Parks. Know her?”
He must be from the club. I’ve been wondering where these guys were. I force myself to remain professional, and even a little friendly. “Yeah, I know her. She’s my receptionist. It’s her day off though. Is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, all good, my man. I’m Vinny, an old friend. We used to work together,” he knocks his fist on the desk, “she sit right here?”
I smile tightly. “Mostly. Do you need me to contact her?”
“Nah,” he laughs a little, pushes himself up to standing. “Just wanted to check up on her, check she was doing all right. She may not be with us anymore, but we still like to look after our own.”
He smiles as he walks backward outside. “And hey, maybe I need some work on my car in the future, so I’ll see you both around.”
I force my own smile. “Sure thing, man. I’ll let her know you stopped by.”
I watch him leave, climbing into his heap of shit and speeding off.
Slimy asshole.
Hopefully, that’s it done now. He can go back and report to whoever that Layton didn’t lie and then leave her the hell alone. Then maybe, just maybe, we can build something together. Providing I don’t fuck it up first.
Irritated, I drop myself back in the pit and focus on the car above me. I need to pull my head out of my ass and stop thinking about her every goddamn second. She’s not the first girlfriend I’ve ever had. She’s just the first I’ve ever actually given a shit about.
It’s Colin who disturbs me later, his grim face alerting me that something is wrong.
“Ma,” I say, in almost a whisper.
“No, no,” he shakes his head, “Lori is fine, son. But I think you’re going to want to sit down.”
I follow him over to the seating area and drop myself onto a chair, wiping the sweat from my brow on my shirt. I look up to him, shaking my head. “This is about him, isn’t it? He’s dead.”
He nods. “They found him this morning. Kenny Kendrick called me to let me know.”
Something drops in the pit of my stomach, something dark and heavy. I feel it weighing me down and find myself thankful that I’m seated, or I’d be likely on my ass. “Does Ma know?”
“Yeah, I just left her. She wanted to be the one to tell you, but she’s… well, you know.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I know you hate him, but I’m sorry all the same.”
“How?” When he doesn’t answer me, I raise an eyebrow. “I know you know.”
Colin sighs, “He overdosed. They found him in some squat on Chester and Third.”
“He’s been in town all this time,” I stand, not really sure of what to do or how to feel, “I need to go.”
I hear him calling for me, but I don’t stop, I can’t. All I can hear is my own screaming inside my head. Grabbing my keys on my way out, I jump into the truck and just drive. I have no direction in mind, no plan of action; I just need to move. Memories—good and bad—flood my mind: of him, of Tommy, all of it coming back and threatening to crush me.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, taking deep breaths as I try to fight for control of my own thoughts.
He’s dead. My father is dead, and I don’t know how I should feel about that. All I can feel is anger. He’s been in town all this time, and hasn’t thought once about his other son, or his wife. Even when Tommy died, he didn’t show up. His own son, the apple of his fucking eye, dead, and he doesn’t even show up to the funeral. Too fucked up to care that his actions killed one son and broke the other. The weight of my burden hits heavier, sinking me lower into my own darkness. It’s thick, tangible, and wraps itself around my bones, immobilizing me from getting a fucking grip. I keep my eyes on the road and drive, which is about all I can do to stop myself going under. There’s only place I wanna be right now, only one place I can be.
I need to go home. I need to get all this shit out of my goddamn head.
And I’m already sorry for it.
She finds me there as part of me knew she would. I don’t even look up to meet her eyes, can’t bring myself to see the disappointment there. This is the side of me I never wanted her to see, the monster inside me that I always wanted to protect her from. But she’s here; standing in my mother’s yard and watching me drop further down the spiral. The debris from my trip to hell scattered all around me. I’ve fucked up everything, ruined things that likely should have been kept straight. But seeing Ma broken up about a man who put her through the ringer for years was too much. So, I cleaned house. I got every single scrap of him and tossed it outside like it was trash, just like he treated us. I made sure there were no more reminders of him, no pictures, no fucking left behind bullshit, and tore through it.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, keeping my back to her.
I feel her behind me, her hand lightly pressing on my back. I turn quickly, gripping it, and holding it suspended to stop her from touching me. I don’t deserve this, don’t deserve her comfort. And still, I’m too much of a fucking coward to look her in the eye.
She sighs, using her other hand to reach up to my cheek. The contact almost hurts, the warmth spreading through me.
“Kane,” Layton says, softly, quietly, “please don’t push me away.” I drop my forehead to hers, the last of my fight evaporating. I’m just so fucking exhausted of feeling like this, of holding all of this in. I’m sick of being too fucking scared to let people see it in case they give up on me, leave me behind because of who I am and what I’ve done.
And yet she’s here. She’s seeing it, seeing me, and she’s still here.
But she doesn’t know all of it.
Carefully, I take her hand and walk us backward to the swinging bench Ma has out back. I sit, pulling Layton onto my lap. She folds into me, nuzzling into my neck. I breathe her in, letting the scent of her lighten the poison pumping through my veins.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, finally feeling like my pulse is calming.
“I knew you needed me.”
She says it so simply, so offhand, that I almost miss it. “How did you know where I was?”
“I came to the shop to bring you something to eat, and it was all closed up. So, I called Nolan, and he told me about your dad,” she frowns a little, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I grunt. “But how did you know to come here?”
A small smile teases the corner of her mouth. “I knew you’d come home. You’re a mama’s boy.”
Despite the way I’m feeling, I snort a laugh. “Yeah, well this 'mama’s boy' needs to go apologize.”
She nods, “Me too.” I raise my brows in confusion, and she drops her head a little, a flush creeping up her skin. “Well, I didn’t exactly knock and wait to be invited in.”
“You’re going to feel the wrath of Lori,” I laugh.
“Don’t I know it,” she nods, and then turns to look at me. “But I had to get to you. I needed to see you, to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I say, automatically.
“You’re not,” she climbs from my lap and stands, pulling at my hand to join her. “But you will be. Let’s face your mother together.”
With one last look at the chaos around me, I follow my girl into my childhood home to apologize to my mother.
She’s justifiably pissed when we find her in the living room sitting on the couch and staring at the mess I made. She looks up, hearing us, and the look in her eye makes me feel like I’m ten years old again. I’m about to get my ass kicked all over this house and back again. Like a big pussy, I squeeze Layton’s hand a little tighter. She doesn’t flinch, just keeps her eyes on my mom.
“Layton, honey. Can you give me and Kane a minute?” Mom asks, her voice revealing a tiredness I don’t think I’ve ever heard in her before. It damn near breaks my fucking heart.
Layton releases a long breath,
shaking her head. “No, Lori. I can’t do that. I’m sorry.” She turns to me, “go make your mom some tea.”
Did she just say no to Ma? Is she fucking insane? She drops my hand and takes a step toward my mom.
“You can leave any time,” Ma says through gritted teeth, “this is family business.”
I move to take a step forward, to protect Layton. Texan moms aren’t like most. But Layton pushes me back.
“I don’t care,” she replies, then turns looking fiercer than I’ve seen. “Now, Kane. And take your time.”
Unsure of myself, I back-step out of the room. This must be a chick thing, and I’m staying well out of it. I just hope they’re both in one piece when I get back.
Layton
One look at her told me all I needed to know.
This woman is done. Completely and utterly done with being the strong one, and she needs to grieve. When Kane leaves the room, I sit beside her cautiously and take her hand in mine. She looks at me warily, the fire in her eyes dying.
“This isn’t something you can fix,” she snaps, pulling her hand away, “we’re not something you can fix.”
“I know that, and I don’t want to fix any of you, y’all are fine how you are.” I take her hand again, a little more forcefully, “but I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
She stands now, grief-ridden fury on her face. “I don’t want you here. Leave!”
I stand too, “No.”
“We don’t need you. We’ve been through worse. This,” she gestures around the room, “is nothing I haven’t fixed before. Me. I fixed this, and I’ll damn well do it again without you. We don’t need you.”
I don’t say a word, just watch as she drags her breath in. “We don’t need anyone. Not you, and not that worthless piece of shit that’s left us for good now.” She looks around the room, at the broken photo frames and the clutter scattered across the floor, and kicks at some of it. “I need to tidy this up.”
“The hell you do,” I wave it off with my hand. “You don’t need to do anything right now but sit and have a minute. And no, you don’t need me, but you’ve damn well got me.”
“I can’t,” her voice cracks a little, “I need to keep going. To make sure Kane is okay. I need to make sure my boy is okay.”
Gently, I turn her face to mine. She looks exhausted, and somehow older, fragile even. “I’ve got Kane, don’t worry. And I’ve got you too. You lost your son, and now you’ve lost a man you once loved.” She sniffs a little, her whole body vibrating with her grief, and slumps onto the couch. “You don’t need to be strong right now, I’ve got you.”
I see it. I see the second whatever was holding her together breaks, and I gather her into me as the first sob rips through her, let her lean as she cries. I watch over her head as Kane walks back in and hit him with a look of thunder, miming for him to go. He understands, of course he does, and quietly leaves the room again. I close my eyes, letting Lori’s pain flow through me as she lets it all out. I stroke her hair, hold her, and let her use me as comfort. She needs this, I can sense it. Lori Thatcher is a strong woman, but even strong women take hits, and those hits hurt. They can take the floor from beneath us and every now and then, strong women need to break.
I don’t know how long we sit like that, but at some point, she pulls back from me, swiping the residue of her tears with the back of her hand. She offers me a sad smile and cups my cheek with her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “You’re a good girl.”
“You’re not alone,” I nod. “Remember that.”
I stand and help her up. “Come on, we’re going to make you up a really hot bubble bath and we’re going to watch a really crap movie.”
I lead her up the stairs and sit her on the bed with orders not to move. Then I make my way to the bathroom and turn the taps on the bath, pouring in some foam. I don’t let myself think about what she must be going through or how she must be feeling. How would I know? How could I understand how this must be for her?
Once the bath is ready, I all but push her into the bathroom and shut the door, then seek out Kane. I find him sitting on his bed, staring at a picture in his hand. His face is tight, and he just looks sad. I sit beside him and take the photo from him. It’s the four of them: him, his brother, Lori and a man I assume is his father. They look happy.
“It was drugs that took him, both of them really,” he says. I don’t respond, he doesn’t want me to. He wants me to listen because he’s ready to talk. I can see it. “Dad got hooked when Tommy and I were kids. We didn’t know, didn’t ever notice. We just saw that him and Ma were fighting more, and he wasn’t home a whole lot.”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Tommy was wild, fucking reckless, even as a kid. He was just like him, and Dad saw that. Started taking him out with him, introducing him to all his asshole friends.” He shakes his head. “I lost count of how many times I had to pick my brother up from the gutter as we got older. The old man would just leave him in a mess on the street and someone would call Ma or me and tell us they found him. And I’d go get him, clean him up. Ma would feed him, and he’d promise it was the last time.”
He stares at the door of his room. “He put her through hell, they both did. Dad would be gone for days, then come home full of apologies and promises. Then just as we started to straighten, he’d take Tommy out again and we’d be back where we started.” He stands now and paces. “Three years ago, Tommy came home. I was up here, I’d just got home from work and was about to take a shower. I heard him shouting, heard Ma screaming at him to get out. He’d come for money, wanted her to pay for his next fucking fix. I rushed the stairs, panicking I wouldn’t get there in time.”
He curses, punches the door. “He had a gun on her,” he whips to face me, his eyes wild. “A fucking gun, pointing it right at our mother. He was gone, Layton. I knew it then. He’d gone too far, he was beyond help.”
A lone tear falls down his face. “I begged him, tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. I offered every cent I had, but he’d gone past that. He didn’t care. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing. All I could see what my Ma, scared shitless of her own son. I snapped. I charged him, and we were fighting. How I ended up with that gun in my hand, I don't recall, but I didn’t even hesitate to pull the trigger.” He drops to the floor in front of me, his eyes pleading with mine, his hands gripping my own. “Layton, I killed him. I murdered my own brother and my mother covered it up. I hate that he’s gone, but I can’t be sorry for what I did. I’d do it the same all over again if it meant my ma being safe.”
His head drops, his hands loosening on mine. This is his burden, one he can’t quite let go of just yet, but he can let me take it from him for a while. Let me hold it, nurse it, carry it with me. He trusts me to keep it safe because it’s still so important to him that it stays protected. It’s a shadow he’s become accustomed to, the monster under his bed that he’s made friends with. He’s tagging me in because it’s become too heavy for him, too much for him to bear alone.
I drop myself onto him, straddling him where he sits. Pressing my hand against his face, I lift it so I can see his eyes and so he can see mine. I don’t say a word, just let him read it from me. I can share the load; I can do this for him. Because even though this darkness surrounds him, completely embodies him, I still feel him, still sense the man he is under all of it, and I know he is good.
Resting my forehead against his, I press a soft kiss against his lips.
“I’m a monster,” he whispers, “You should run from me, but I don’t want to let you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise me?”
“I promise.”
I don’t know how I manage it, but I somehow convince Kane to get into bed, and within minutes he drops off into an exhausted sleep. He barely even put up a fight, so he must need it. Then, when I’m satisfied that he isn’t going to wake up, I put my attention back on his mother and
get her to do the same with a cheesy movie on her TV. When they’re both asleep, I creep downstairs and make a pot of coffee. While it brews, I allow myself a breath and a small tear. For the little boy who lost his brother, for the mother who lost her son, and for the people they have had to become to work through it, now having to do it all again.
I take just one small minute, and then I mentally plan how I’m going to clean the house, because the last thing either of them need right now is to worry about something so insignificant. No, they both need this time to heal now, and I can fix the stuff on the surface.
I tie my hair into a high bun, knot my tee at the hip and kick off my sandals.
I’m ready to work.
A voice startles me as I’m clearing away the last of the bits on the floor of the lounge. I turn to see Colin, the man in Lori’s life, standing in the doorway.
“Hi,” I offer, as I stand from the floor.
“Hey,” he smiles small. “I was half expecting to get here and the house be on fire. I wanted to give them both some space.”
“You were almost right,” I laugh, grateful when he takes the trash bag from me. “They’re both in bed, have been for a while now. It’s been an emotional afternoon.”
He nods thoughtfully as we both walk to the kitchen. I pour us both a coffee whilst he takes the trash out, passing the cup to him on his return.
“It’s probably going to get worse before it gets better. The police will be by later to make the official notification. I was able to give the news early as I’ve got a buddy at the station.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “How did you manage to get Lori to let you clean, and Kane to go to sleep?”
I shrug. “I’m handy in a crisis,” I sigh. “I just want to help.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “Me too, darlin’, me too.”
Colin helps me for a while and then heads upstairs to be with Lori when she wakes. I finish off the cleaning and then go in search of something I can make them for dinner. None of them will want to eat, but I’m not giving them the choice. I’m determined to be strong for them, determined to see them through what has to be hell. With what Kane told me about his brother, they’ve been living this hell for a long time.