Still Air

by Freya Barker

  He doesn’t answer, but digs right in when I slide his bowl across and hand him a spoon and fork. Amused, I watch as his pace slows down a little when the heat hits. Beads of sweat break out over his forehead when I take pity on him.

  “Want some water?”

  “Please,” he croaks out. “It’s good,” he adds with a little smirk.

  I like a little kick to my food, especially when it’s cold out; it warms me up from the inside out.

  “How come you don’t have any pictures up?” Jonas says suddenly, his eyes roaming the walls and the entertainment center in the living room. It’s true; there aren’t any pictures up. There are few to begin with and those I have don’t particularly remind me of happier times, so I leave them in a box at the bottom of my closet. He looks at me inquisitively, and I decide to play it straight.

  “I try to live in the present as much as possible. Pictures are reminders of the past, and not always pleasant. I bought this place not that long ago, maybe a year, and didn’t actually move in until the end of the summer. I guess I could put some up, make it a little homier.”

  He continues to watch me closely for a minute and then his eyes start wandering the room again.

  “Mom used to put up pictures everywhere,” he says softly, his gaze avoiding mine. “But when I looked at them the other day, I noticed all of them were from when Gina and I were little. Mom was still smiling in those...” His voice trails off and I notice he’s struggling to maintain his composure.

  Even though this is a great opening for our session, I don’t want to push too hard. Instead I turn my back to give him some privacy while he sorts himself out, as I quickly wash the dishes in the sink and put them away. By the time I turn back, he’s facing me, the inquisitive look back on his face.

  “What happened to you?” he asks. This time I’m so off guard, my hand comes up to my chest. Like father, like son. I should’ve guessed he’s an empath like his dad. It makes sense why he tried drowning out the negative emotions, that must have been swirling around that house, with drugs and booze. He’s too young to see—to feel—that much.

  “Why do you ask?” I answer his question with one of my own, as I move into the living room, taking my spot in the corner of the couch.

  “Because your house is not really a home,” he responds with a shrug, while following me and sitting across from me in the chair. “You don’t seem to have a family, and you rescue everyone.”

  The sudden rush of tears has me close my eyes. Seventeen years old, and his eyes are eagle sharp. This boy is an old soul and he has exposed the sum of my existence in just a few words. Just like his father did when he asked, “And who looks after you?”

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters, seeing my reaction. “That was rude.”

  “No.” I’m quick to stop him. “Don’t apologize. I’m just struck how much you remind me of your father. You’re insightful, empathetic. It’s not all that common in someone your age. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  His face changes from worry to curiosity. “Empathetic?”

  “Yes,” I smile at him. “That’s when you have the ability to read between the lines of what people are saying. When you can plug in to their emotions and sometimes feel what they feel.”

  “Like mind reading?” he asks, a look of horror on his face and it makes me laugh.

  “Not really. You’re simply more attuned to people. Your father is too.” The moment the last words leave my mouth, his face darkens and he lets out a bark of deriding laughter.

  “Dad? He’s not plugged in at all.” He’s angry, and I’ve found the focus of our session.

  For the next forty or so minutes, I encourage him to get all of those feelings of anger and resentment out on the table. When I close the door behind him, I feel we’ve accomplished something. I’m exhausted, and not just a little bit relieved at having been able to avoid answering his earlier question.

  It’s only eight thirty, and although I’d love to haul my ass to bed, I fight the urge. I need to start actually living in my house, not just using it as a place to sleep. I just settled back into the couch, a soft blanket covering my feet and a glass of wine in my hand, when there’s a knock on the door. I assume it’s Jonas and automatically look around the room and to the kitchen island, to see if he maybe forgot something.

  “Did you forget...”

  I never get to finish my sentence as I pull open the door, everything happens so fast. I find myself pushed back against the wardrobe doors, an arm pressed against my throat. I don’t think, I react and yank up my knee as hard as I can.

  “Hey!” I hear yelled. There’s another person coming in, but I don’t wait; the moment I’m released I swing around, slide the door open and snag my gun from the shelf.

  The two punks who stood outside of the motel room are standing in my hallway. Well, one is standing, the other is rolling on the floor clutching his crotch. Good. I hope I rendered his little wiener permanently disabled.

  A surge of anger floods my veins and it’s all I can do not to shoot the little shits.

  -

  “Ms. Brunard.” I look up to find Detective Barnes coming through the door. I’d been backing into the living room to get to my phone, when the two managed to run, or in the case of the one kid, stumble from the house. I immediately called nine one one.

  “Detective.”

  “I just want you to know we are trying to locate the boys, but I wanted to make sure young Mr. Brachio wasn’t involved.”

  I immediately jump to my feet. “Listen, Detective, like I told the other officer earlier, Jonas was visiting, and I am quite positive he has nothing to do with it.”

  There’s a bit of a shuffle by the front door, and I try to look beyond Barnes to see what’s going on in the hallway, when I hear Dino’s deep bass.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dino

  “Dad...I think there might be trouble.”

  Fuck me. Those words are on replay in my head as I drive like a maniac. Jonas said he thought Pam might be in trouble, which is why Ike, who happened to be in the kitchen at The Skipper, is riding shotgun. All I know is some kids jumped my son as he was walking to the bus from Pam’s house, and according to him, were after her next. I don’t know much else, because that’s when the call ended.

  Pam’s street is blocked off by a patrol car and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles reflect off the houses on either side.

  “Easy, Dino.” Ike tries to slow me down when I jump out of the car and start bulldozing past the young officer trying to block my way. I ignore both of them as I aim for a huddle of people around a prone figure on the sidewalk. I figure Ike can explain things to the cop.

  “Jonas!”

  At my call, heads swing around and the huddle opens enough for me to see my boy, his face bloody and his body too still. I drop on my knees beside him, ignoring the people jumping out of my way. I’m like a fucking bull, I’ll go through walls to get to my kids if I have to.

  “Hey, Bud...” I say softly as I stroke his too long hair off his forehead. His eyes are closed but he blinks them open at the sound of my voice. “Where does it hurt?” My eyes and hands are in the middle of a quick scan of his body when I’m interrupted.

  “Sir? You need to step back so we have a look at him.”

  I didn’t notice the EMTs walking up. When I try to move back to give them room, Jonas’ hand snakes out and grabs my shirt.

  “Dad?” his voice croaks. “Can you check on Pam?”

  I’ve never felt so torn. “Not leaving you, Son,” I answer, acid churning in my stomach as I watch the EMTs check my boy over. They strap him to a board and load him on a stretcher when a hand lands on my shoulder.

  “How’s he doing?” Ike’s voice sounds behind me.

  “I don’t know. He’s talking.”

  “That’s good. Talking is good. I think Pam’s okay. Cops won’t let me through but assure me she’s being looked
after.”

  “Sir?” That from one of the EMTs at the back of the ambulance where they’re about to load Jonas inside. “Are you coming?”

  “Hell yes, I’m coming,” I say, but my chest hurts.

  “No, Dad...” Jonas stops me. “Please check on Pam. I’m fine—I’ll be fine.”

  “But...” Fuck, I’m struggling.

  “Please, Dad.”

  I lean over and carefully kiss his forehead, something I haven’t done in years and tears spring to my eyes at the realization. So many mistakes.

  “Ike?” I turn to the man beside me, not bothering to hide the emotion on my face. I’m proud of my son tonight.

  “I’ll stick with him,” Ike says with an easy smile. “You good with that, Jonas?” he directs at my son, who nods, squeezing his eyes shut.

  I lean down to Jonas’ face again, whispering; “I’ll make sure she’s alright, and then I’ll be right behind you, okay? Love you, kiddo.”

  “I’m sor...” Jonas starts, but I cut him off.

  “Time for all that later,” I tell him with a sharp shake of my head. Then I turn to Ike and mouth a heartfelt thank you before jogging down the street to Pam’s place.

  Two uniformed officers block the front steps and when I want to move between them, one of them plants a hand in the middle of my chest.

  “Can’t go in there, sir,” he says firmly.

  Like hell I can’t. I shrug off his hand and try to slip by them again, one single focus on my mind—Pam. Before I realize what’s happening, my arms are pulled behind my back.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I struggle to get loose. “I just need to see she’s alright!” I yell, frustrated when I feel the cold steel of handcuffs pressing against my wrist.

  “Stop!”

  I look up to find Pam standing on the doorstep. The sight of her, all in one piece and without any visible injuries, as a quick scan of her body reveals, instantly eases the pressure on my chest. Behind her, the familiar shape of Detective Barnes appears in the doorway.

  “It’s okay, boys. Let him go,” he directs the two officers hanging on to me.

  The instant they release me, I dart up the steps and pull Pam in my arms.

  “Thank God,” I mumble, as I feel her arms come around me.

  “I’m okay, Dino. I’m okay.” She takes a step back and studies my face. “What’s wrong? How did you get here so fast?”

  “Jonas. He called me. Said two guys got him in the street, he thought they’d go after you.”

  “Where is he?” She looks around me down the street.

  “On his way to the hospital. Ike’s with him. He insisted I make sure you’re okay.”

  The shock on her face makes it clear she had no idea Jonas had been hurt. She suddenly swings around to face the detective.

  “You! You knew he was hurt and didn’t bother telling me?” She pokes a finger in his chest, making quite an imposing figure. Barnes looks a bit sheepish at the accusation and doesn’t stop her when she storms inside, past him. I follow behind her and he doesn’t stop me either.

  Pam is rummaging in the bottom of the hallway closet, yanking out a pair of boots, she shoves her bare feet in, and grabs a heavy winter coat she shrugs on.

  “Let’s go,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me back outside, where Barnes tries to block our way. “Your damn questions will have to wait, Detective,” Pam spits at him, clearly infuriated. I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but I get pulled along to her driveway.

  “You won’t be able to get out,” I suggest when she goes to unlock her car. “We’ll take mine, it’s at the corner.”

  When we get to my car, we’re both a little out of breath. I start the car, while Pam buckles up and turns to me.

  “How bad?” she asks, her voice thick with emotion.

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. “His face looks pretty bad, but I’m not sure about the rest of him.”

  “You should be with him,” she says. It could’ve sounded like an accusation, but it doesn’t. It sounds like guilt. I reach out and grab her hand as I weave through Saturday night, Portland traffic.

  “Jonas insisted,” I explain. “Wouldn’t rest until I checked on you.”

  I don’t hear anything. When I take a quick glance over at her, I can see tears rolling down her face.

  “I’m gonna nail those kids,” she hisses with vehemence. “Gonna nail their skinny little asses to the wall. Entitled little pricks, with parents too blind to acknowledge the miserable, puny ingrates their sons have become. I’ll fucking make sure bail is not an option this time.”

  I feel it’s in my best interests just to keep my mouth shut. Even though I want to kiss her hard right now.

  When we park the car at the hospital, she waits for me to round the front and immediately grabs my hand again. Together we go in search of Jonas and Ike.

  Pam

  “What the heck is that?”

  I’ve just rested my head back against the wall when Dino’s bark has me shooting upright in my seat.

  We’ve been relegated to a waiting room, where we find Ike. It appears they’ve taken Jonas to radiology for scans. Dino almost went off on a nurse, when she couldn’t give him more information than that, and he’s been pacing like a caged animal since we got here.

  “What?” I look confused at Dino pointing in my direction.

  “That,” he hisses, stopping in front of me and tilting my chin with the fingers of one hand, while the other strokes the skin of my neck. “Those marks? Did they do that?”

  I take his hand and pull him down in the chair beside me. We haven’t even talked about what happened.

  “Jonas had just left when someone knocked at the door. I thought he’d forgotten something and came back. Stupid, because I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been. Anyway,” I continue when I feel his hand tighten around mine. “One of them had me pinned against the wardrobe door by the throat. I got him off, managed to grab my gun from the closet shelf, and tried to find my phone to call nine one one when the two of them bolted out of there. I’m fine,” I add in a soothing voice. “I guess his hold left some marks, but trust me.” I try to make light at the sight of Dino’s stormy expression. “By the time that boy can swallow around his balls, I made sure will be lodged in his throat for a while, these little marks will be long gone.”

  Ike chuckles in the background, but Dino stares at me intensely, suddenly snagging me by the back of my head and laying a kiss on me that had my toes curling. “You kicked ass,” he finally says when he releases his hold.

  “Sure as hell hope so,” I mumble, trying hard to not to sneak a slightly embarrassed peek at Ike’s reaction to that unexpected PDA.

  Before I give in to temptation, the door opens and a doctor, who looks way too young to claim that title, walks in.

  “Brachio family?”

  Dino stands up, instantly intimidating the young doctor to start stammering.

  “I’m Doctor Weston.” He sticks out his hand, which Dino pointedly ignores. “Right, well...I have some bad news and some good news,” he says, unnecessarily building suspense. Idiot.

  “Talk,” Dino barks, shocking the nervous young man, who responds by fiddling with his stethoscope.

  “Yes. Absolutely...we did an MRI scan of his brain since he reports having his head slammed to the ground a few times. We also did a CT scan to determine if there was any internal bleeding since he reported being kicked a few times. He’s in ultrasound now and should be out shortly.”

  Dino growls, his frustration obviously mounting to dangerous heights, so I jump in.

  “We’d like some results,” I prompt, and the doctor, whose fearful eyes have been focused on Dino, turns to me in relief.

  “Of course. His brain looks clear. No bleeds or swelling we can detect, but we’ll observe to look for any changes. That’s the good news,” he quickly adds to Dino who just flares his nostrils. “The scan showed some internal bleeding, likely coming from the splee
n. He’s in ultrasound to confirm, but it’s possible he will need surgery to have the spleen removed.”

  “When?” Dino bites off.

  “Right away. I’ll go see if he’s back from radiology yet. You’ll be able to see him before he’s taken to the OR.” Doctor Weston moves to the door, pulling it open

  “You the one doing the surgery?” he calls after Weston, who’s halfway out the door.

  “Oh no. That will be Doctor Morton, the surgeon on call,” the doctor replies before letting the door shut behind him.

  “Thank fuck for that,” Dino mutters, voicing my thoughts.

  -

  “Where’s Gina?” I ask Dino when we’re back in the waiting room after briefly seeing Jonas.

  Dino had gone in first, when the nurse came to get him, but had returned for me shortly after. Jonas insisted he wanted to see for himself I was okay. Poor kid looked a mess, with his left eye swollen shut, a cut above his eyebrow they assured us would get stitched up in the OR, and a nose that looked to be broken. Something else they’d ‘fix’ while he was under, to save time. We were told his spleen had ruptured, and they wanted to move quickly to remove it and stop the bleeding. I almost lost it when I watched Dino gently stroke the hair back from his son’s forehead and press a kiss there, telling him loved him, and he’d be waiting.

  “At Marcy’s,” he answers, belatedly realizing I probably have no clue who Marcy is. “Her best friend,” he adds, with a squeeze to my hand, which he’s been hanging onto ever since we saw Jonas wheeled off.

  Ike had excused himself maybe ten minutes ago, asking us if we wanted anything. Dino just shook his head, but I asked for a few bottles of water.

  “He’ll be okay,” I assure Dino when the door opens and Detective Barnes walks in.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he says, looking at Dino. “I understand your son is in surgery so I won’t take up much of your time, but I have a few questions for both of you.” At Dino’s nod, he takes a seat across from us and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Mr. Brachio, do you know what your son was doing in Ms. Brunard’s neighborhood?” I bristle, because I’ve already answered that question earlier, but Dino almost shoots up from his seat.