Released

by Shay Savage

  Chelsea turned to look at me and narrowed her eyes a bit, and I sighed.

  “Stuff,” I corrected.

  I looked at Tria and tried to tell her with my eyes to stop it—just leave it alone. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t, not completely, but I had to try. I couldn’t take any more right now.

  “We’re your family, Liam,” Michael reminded me.

  “You said you never gave up on me.” I turned my head and stared into his dark eyes. “Why not?”

  “The earrings,” he said without hesitation.

  “Earrings?” I reached instinctively to the two silver hoops in my left ear.

  “I knew as long as you were wearing them, there was still a chance.”

  I was never one to admit my uncle was right, but deep inside, I knew he was.

  Chapter 9—Start the Healing

  The next few days were odd, to say the least. Tria sat with me and amended my list, including going back to the old apartment building and getting my shit from Katie, taking Tria to the clinic, and finding a new place to live. Michael had made it clear that we weren’t only welcome at his house, but he expected us to stay there until Tria started her next semester of school in the fall. I didn’t like it, but with the three of them ganging up on me about logistics and shit, I couldn’t win.

  Really, it was when Tria looked at me with those big, brown doe-eyes that I couldn’t deny her anything. She and Chelsea became close very quickly, and I was pretty sure Chelsea convinced Tria it was best for both of us to stay here for the short term.

  A business trip caused Sunday dinner with my parents to be cancelled, and I was glad for the delay. I still wasn’t sure what to do about their eventual visit.

  “I don’t want him to know,” I told Michael. I leaned back on the couch and resisted the urge to put my feet up on Chelsea’s coffee table. “He doesn’t need to know I’m staying here, and he doesn’t need to know about Tria being here¸ either.”

  “It’s not like he hasn’t already met her,” Michael said. He poured himself a small shot of scotch and offered me the same. “You know I told him about her the second I got back from Portland. I was thrilled to know you were in a relationship, and so was he.”

  “Well, he doesn’t need to know anything else.”

  “Liam, he’s your father.”

  “No!” I yelled. “He lost that right a long time ago!”

  “He’s tried to make amends,” Michael said. He set the bottle of scotch back down on the bar and wiped off the counter where he must have spilled a bit.

  “Bullshit!” I replied.

  “It is not bullshit!” Michael yelled back. The scotch forgotten, he crossed the room with his finger pointed at me. “He tried to reach you, Liam! He tried to take it all back, even before Aimee’s funeral! You wouldn’t speak to him! He tried to reach out to you later, and you wouldn’t talk to him then, either! When Ryan finally found you, and they showed up together, you broke his jaw.”

  “What?” I asked, a little shocked at this revelation.

  “Didn’t know that, did you?” Michael raised his eyebrows. “Broken in three places, and he lost four teeth. He had his jaw wired shut for two months while he took meals through a straw. He wouldn’t even let Julianne try again after that, thinking you might really hurt her. You were out of fucking control, Liam! He fucked up, too, but you can’t lay all of this on your father!”

  I clenched my teeth as I forced myself not to respond. I wanted to scream at him to shut the fuck up—that none of what he was saying could have been right—but I couldn’t. I had to shut up for Tria’s sake. I had to keep her safe, and right now, I needed Michael in order to be able to do that.

  I had hit my father, but I didn’t remember hitting him that hard.

  “I’m not going to lie to my own brother about the whereabouts of his son,” Michael said firmly. “You don’t have to be here when he comes, and I won’t tell him before Sunday, but I’m not lying to him.”

  “Lying to whom?” Tria asked as she walked in carrying Mary Poppins’ Carpet Bag. She stopped rooting around in it long enough to look between us. “What’s going on?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I reached out, grabbed her hand, and then pulled her toward the door. “Let’s just go get all my shit from the crazy lady.”

  As tempted as I was, I didn’t go to the landlord’s office although I had thoughts of popping in and beating the shit out of him. I knew I’d probably end up shot, and that was the last thing Tria needed right now. We just had Damon drive the car around the block as we ran up to Krazy Katie’s apartment.

  She was inside for once and even answered the door when I pounded on it and yelled for her. That was good because I didn’t want to climb the fucking fire escape.

  As soon as the door opened, Krazy Katie reached over and grabbed the carton of cigarettes I had been holding with one hand and Tria in the other. She hauled Tria inside and sat down next to the wall. She tore open the carton to dump the packs on the carpet and got to work. As Tria pulled out strips from the roll of tape, I grabbed a few boxes of my things and ran downstairs to shove them into the trunk of the Rolls as it made laps around the building.

  “How do you know it’s a girl?” Tria was asking Krazy Katie as I came back in for the last of the stuff. “I’m not even showing or anything.”

  Whatever Krazy Katie had said, she seemed to be done talking. Tria glanced up to me.

  “You know she’s just talking bullshit,” I reminded her.

  “You told her I was pregnant?”

  “She seemed to know already. Probably heard us talking. The walls are thin.”

  “She said it’s a girl,” Tria said.

  I swallowed past a lump in my throat. For the most part, I have been surviving by trying to forget Tria was pregnant at all, and for a couple hours at a time, it worked. Then someone would say something about it, and my palms would start to sweat.

  I really didn’t want to end up in the hospital again.

  “Did she suggest naming it after her?” I asked. “Krazy Katie has a nice ring to it.”

  “Stop that,” Tria chided. “You shouldn’t make fun of her.”

  “I’m not,” I argued. “I’m just being descriptive.”

  I had to smile at the familiarity of the conversation. I couldn’t remember how many times Tria had told me not to call our neighbor Krazy Katie, as if I were trying to be insulting. Lucky for me, Krazy Katie didn’t seem to have an opinion.

  “I wish I could do more for her,” Tria said as she stood up and we prepared to leave.

  “I brought her cigs,” I said. “She doesn’t ever want anything else.”

  “We should get her some groceries.”

  “I checked—she’s got enough for a while.”

  Tria gnawed at her lip, and I reached over to take her hand.

  “We’ll come back and take her to get her check cashed next Thursday.”

  Tria nodded and reached out to hug Krazy Katie, who didn’t seem to notice at all. Before we left, Tria still felt the need to assure her we’d be coming back to help her out occasionally.

  That was the easy part.

  Next stop—Yolanda’s.

  “Don’t tell me you went right back to this fuck up.” Yolanda’s greeting assaulted us as soon as she opened the door.

  “I’m clean,” I told her. I tried to keep my voice down and remain calm, but all I really wanted to do was punch her. It had been way too long since I’d punched anyone, and I was starting to feel like Dexter. Sixteen days, nine hours, and forty-two minutes since I last kicked the shit out of someone.

  “Heard that one before,” Yolanda said, “way too many times. I told you we were through.”

  “I just came to get my things,” Tria said.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Yolanda said. “You can stay here—no hard feelings.”

  “No hard feelings?” Tria’s eyes widened, and then she began to yell. “No hard feelings? You all but left him for dead!”r />
  “Do you have any idea how many times?” Yolanda snapped. “How many times I hauled his sorry ass out of the gutter to shower him off and sober him up again? Any idea? Every time, the same words spew out of his mouth—‘it won’t happen again.’”

  As much as I wanted to argue and fight back, there was far too much truth in her words.

  “Not for a long time,” I said quietly. It was all I had.

  “So you made it four years,” Yolanda said with a nod. “Four years of calm in your life—eat, work out, fight, and sleep. As soon as something happens that’s a little bit tough or unexpected, you do what?”

  I looked away, trying to find meaning in the stained bit of carpet in the corner of the hallway.

  “You turn to heroin,” she said. “As much muscle as you’ve put on, you’re still the weakest man I’ve ever known.”

  “Shut up,” Tria said. Her voice was eerily calm. “Liam’s going to get some real help now, not just beat up someone in place of the drugs. Professional help.”

  “You’re going to see a shrink?” Yolanda laughed. “You really think after ten years that’s going to matter?”

  “I won’t let her down,” I finally said.

  “Heard that one before, too,” Yolanda replied.

  “Just stop,” Tria said. “I need to get my stuff, and then we’ll be out of your way.”

  “Don’t go back to him, Tria,” Yolanda said. Her voice softened. “I’m not just trying to be a bitch here. I’ve known him too long. He might be off the shit now, and maybe he’ll even stay that way for a year. Hell, maybe even two. And then something will happen. Maybe the baby has colic or gets sick or whatever it is, and he won’t be able to cope. He’ll go back to heroin, and you’ll be back on my doorstep.”

  Tria looked over to me, and I didn’t know what to say. In many ways, I knew Yolanda could be right. I’d been here before, said I was done with all the shit before, but eventually I had gone back. I didn’t want that to happen again, but I couldn’t deny that Yolanda had history on her side.

  I also knew there were some things I wouldn’t be able to cope with. I looked at Tria.

  “If you die because of this, I’ll buy as much heroin as I can and shoot it until I’m dead,” I told her. “But as long as you’re okay, then I’ll stay away from it. Both for you and so we can have a family.”

  “You aren’t making me feel great here,” Tria said.

  “It’s all I got for now,” I replied. “I’ll do everything we talked about. I’ll get better—I swear.”

  “Heard it,” Yolanda snapped.

  “Shut up!” Tria yelled back at her.

  “You’re young, naïve, and stupid,” Yolanda told her. “Stay here with me, and I’ll make sure you and the baby are taken care of.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s my baby, and I’ll be protecting her.”

  “Stop it!” Tria looked at me and then Yolanda. “Both of you. I can’t take any more.”

  I looked down at her face and saw how pale she was.

  “Fuck, Tria!” I cried as I grabbed her and pulled her against me. “Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

  “No, no,” Tria said. “I’m fine. I just—I can’t take any more of this. Yolanda, I need my stuff now, and then we’re leaving.”

  I moved quickly and even enlisted Damon’s help so it could all be done in three trips instead of a half dozen. Yolanda continued to make remarks, but Tria must have tuned her out. I just wanted to get all this done as quickly as possible because our next stop was the clinic.

  “You’re going to regret this,” Yolanda said as we walked out for the last time, “but you still have a place here when you figure that out.”

  “Thank you,” Tria said curtly as she took my hand and started pulling me away.

  Part of me felt like I ought to say something else to the only friend in my life for many, many years, but I just couldn’t find the right words.

  Our last stop was the clinic at Hoffman College.

  “You’re measuring at about eleven weeks,” the doctor said as she poked around. “Was your last period in March?”

  I stood over in the corner and chewed on the edge of my thumb and waited for the other shoe to drop. Or get thrown at my head. Or just tie itself to the laces of my other shoe until I fell over and smashed my nose into the pavement.

  Wait for the other shoe to drop.

  What the fuck did that mean, anyway?

  “That’s about when I went on The Pill,” Tria said. “Um…they were just kind of spotty after that, but the nurse said that was normal.”

  “It is, usually,” the doctor confirmed. “You were one of those that got the bad batch, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll give you some paperwork you can send in, if you like.” She dug around in a desk drawer before handing a form to Tria. “There are some people trying to organize a class action suit.”

  “Okay,” Tria said. She looked at me with worried eyes, but I didn’t know what she was thinking. I couldn’t focus because the whole scene was horribly familiar. I’d been here and done all this before, just with a different doctor at a different clinic.

  “Your due date will be in the middle of November.” The doctor checked a couple of charts. “November fifteenth, to be precise.”

  “Is she okay?” I finally asked. “I mean, is everything all right with Tria? The baby…I mean…is everything all right?”

  “Everything is just fine,” she said. She looked over to me with a slight smile. “Dad’s a little nervous, I take it?”

  I clenched my hands into fists and held my breath but said nothing.

  “I think he’d feel a little better with some reassurances,” Tria said.

  “Miss Lynn is in excellent health,” the doctor said. “Her uterus feels right, and the baby is the proper size. I can’t tell a whole lot more without an ultrasound, but those can be expensive without insurance. The baby’s heartbeat is strong, though. Do you want to hear it?”

  Before I could respond, the doctor took some little oval-shaped instrument and placed it against Tria’s stomach. A moment later, there was a quick thrumming sound coming out of it. It was a strange sound—not at all like I remembered my own heartbeat sounding when using a stethoscope. It was much faster and kind of sounded like it was coming from underwater.

  I looked at Tria. She was staring down her body with her mouth open and a look of wonder on her face.

  “It’s really there,” she whispered. Her head turned toward me, and the most beautiful smile covered her face. “It’s really there.”

  I returned the smile as best I could though the tightness in my chest and overwhelming sense of dread destroyed any actual joy I may have otherwise felt.

  I was never one to admit my feelings, but I was absolutely terrified.

  Chapter 10—Face the Reality

  True to his word, Michael put in a recommendation for me with the shift supervisor at the stone setting workshop, and I got the job without ever seeing Dad. His office was downtown, and he apparently hadn’t been at that particular workshop in over a year.

  The work environment wasn’t bad, and I had my own workbench. I just introduced myself as Liam—avoiding the last name with those around me. No reason anyone but the boss needed to know, and I told him I wanted to be treated like everyone else. He seemed to get it.

  The stones were crappy quality and would be sold to shops that didn’t bear the Teague Silver name on them. That was probably best, though—it had been a long time since I had done such delicate work, and there was one of those big whiteboards that kept score of people who broke stones.

  I supposed anyone who broke too many would end up fired, but I didn’t do too badly.

  Sitting at the bench, carving out silver in the right way to make a place for the stone was solitary and quiet work. It relaxed me, and I was surprised to find out on the very first day how much I remembered and how much I liked it.

  My
second day on the job was my first appointment with my therapist. It had taken about sixteen tries for me to actually pick up the phone, dial the number, and make the appointment. I could have taken the bus to get to the shrink’s office, but I was afraid I’d never make it, so I asked Damon to take me.

  “Will you follow me in there?” I asked him. “I mean—make sure I go through with it, ya know?”

  “Of course, Mr. Teague.”

  “We should go early, too,” I added. “I don’t want to be late.”

  Damon drove me to the office building and parked the car across from the hospital where Baynor worked. I took a few deep breaths as he held the door open and waited for me to get out of the car. Every time I started to move to the outside, my muscles seized up.

  “Don’t let me chicken out,” I said quietly. I rubbed my fingertips into my eyes and huffed out a breath.

  “There is plenty of time, Mr. Teague,” Damon said. “You have a good five minutes before I actually drag you out of the back seat.”

  I chuckled at the visual and then continued with the deep breathing until I felt as if I was going to hyperventilate.

  “Mr. Teague?” Damon stood there, his face showing nothing but compassion for me.

  “I know,” I said, practically jumping down his throat. I immediately apologized.

  “You still have plenty of time,” Damon told me.

  “This just…sucks,” I mumbled.

  “Of course it does, Mr. Teague.” He crouched down to my level and stared me right in the eyes. “Liam—it’s what you have to do for Tria and your coming child.”

  I swallowed once and nodded at him. Damon stood up straight and took a step backward with his hand still on the car door. Before I could lose my nerve, I moved quickly to twist in the seat and put my feet on the pavement. One more breath and I pushed myself out of the car and forced myself to walk up the sidewalk to the building entrance and beyond.

  It was freaking hot that day, and I had opted for my sleeveless muscle shirt and some cargo shorts that had belonged to Ryan, but it wasn’t helping. I still had sweat dripping between my shoulder blades before I got to the door. It was just before one in the afternoon, and the therapist was apparently not back from lunch yet. Even though I was early, the receptionist said I could wait in Ms. Chambers’ office while Damon waited for me in the lobby.