“She should be here soon.”
The band that’s dressed up as ZZ Top begins to play Low Rider.
“Come on, let’s dance.”
Jenny grabs my hand and leads us to the already packed dance floor. She drags us up front close to where the band is playing. Everytime the lyrics say, ‘all my friends drive a lowrider,’ Jenny gets low in front of me and on her way back up, she pops out her butt. She is wild and I love her. I head towards the ground with her. As I come back up, the banana that was dancing next to us moves out of the way, and I notice Jules and Daws are staring at us. Although, strangely enough, it looks like Jules is staring at Jenny.
Shit. “Time to face the music, Jenny,” I nod at Daws.
“What? What do you mean? There’s nothing going on,” she stutters.
I narrow my eyes on my best friend who obviously is keeping something from me. “I meant Daws. Looks like someone has some ‘splaining to do, Lucy,” I say referencing Lucille Ball.
I’m apprehensive to talk to Dawson, but I owe him an apology.
Mickeyism #8
A boy can make mistakes, but a man knows when to admit it.
Well, I guess it’s time for me to man up.
“Jules, you mind getting Jenny a refill, so I can talk with Daws?”
Daws has an icy stare, “We ain't got nothing to talk about, Maura.”
A part of me feels like I deserve his anger, but a bigger part of me is not going to back down. Daws has always been one of my best friends, and I have to try and repair us.
“The hell we don’t, Daws.”
Jules tips his beer showing it’s empty. “Let’s grab a drink,” he says to Jenny.
“Asshole,” Daws mumbles under his breath, but I catch it.
“Can we go outside for a minute? It’s loud in here.” He gives me his Dawson death glare and if I were anyone else I might back down.
“Please?”
“Fine.” He stands up and follows me out the back of the bar into the dimly lit alley. “‘Sup?” He says rather cooly.
“I’m sorry. I was in a world of hurt, and I used you. You’re my oldest friend. I love you and I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
“It’s done” he turns and starts to walk away.
“Wait, Daws! Talk to me.” I grab his arm, pleading for him to talk with me.
“What is it that you want me to say? Do you want me to say that shit was dirty and wrong. It was. Totally. Fucking. Wrong.”
“Dawson…” I start to say, but he cuts me off.
“No, you shouldn’t have used me, but I fucked up too, Baby Girl. I knew you were hurting. I never should’ve brought you up there.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I say with a trembling lip and tears in my eyes. I am grateful that he used Dad’s endearment for me.
“What do you want from me?” He says in flat tone.
“I want us to be friends still, and I want you to forgive me. I want you to be okay with me being with Corbin?”
“You two together, then?”
“Well no, but I want to be.”
“That fucktwad is dumber than he looks if he lets you get…” The back door opens, shining light from inside into the alley.
“Maura,” Dad calls out, “Everything good?”
“Yeah Dad, I’m good,” I say as I start to head back in.
Daws pulls a joint from the cellophane of a cigarette pack he had in his pocket and lights it. I turn back to Daws, before I walk back in, “Are we good?”
He takes a deep inhale from his joint, the crackle as it burns illuminates his face. “We’re good.” I didn’t get the warm and fuzzies from my conversation with Dawson, but it’s a start.
When I walk back into the bar, I see Jenny push her hand from Jules’ chest. He grabs her wrist, and although it’s loud and crowded in the bar, I see her mouth the word, “don’t,” and pull away. Interesting… It didn’t dawn on me until now, but I've seen looks between the two of them. With her earlier faux pas, I need to find out what’s going on with my girl.
As Jenny approaches, I grab her hand, “What was that about with Jules?”
“Oh, there’s Aubrey! I want you to meet her.” Before I can call Jenny out on not answering my question about Jules, she is shouting and waving over her friend who has taken over for me in the office.
We greet Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I immediately know I like this chick ‘cause she could’ve worn a skankalicious costume like half the chicks here, but she choose Dorothy right down to the ruby slippers. Her brown hair is in traditional Dorothy pigtails. Her face is what draws you in. Her cheekbones are high and her lips are so full, she could give Angelina a run for her money. She has a sadness to her eyes. They are so green they are almost yellow.
“Aubrey! Glad you could make it,” Jenny gives her a hug. “This is Maura, Mickey’s daughter.”
“Hi Aubrey,” I smile genuinely at her.
“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you. Thanks for hooking me up with the job, I really appreciate it.” When Jenny had asked me to see about a job for a friend of hers, she didn’t mention much, just that she needed a hand.
Mickeyism #14
A friend of a friend always helps a friend of a friend, or something like that.
“Don’t mention it. So nice to meet you.”
She looks a little nervous. “Ari chose my outfit. I hope it isn’t too little kiddish.” She tugs at the white apron part of the dress.
“No. It’s perfect. Way better than some of the slutbags shaking their tits around here. You tell Ari, Jenny loved it ‘kay, and if you want I’ll go hijack a best costume trophy, so you can give it to her.” I laugh because that is so Jenny.
We walk over to the bar, getting plenty of looks from every man with eyes because the three of us are a force.
“Jack!” I holler. “Three more shots.”
Jack pours the shots and I pass them out.
“This is the only one I can do,” Aubrey says, “I have to get up early for a soccer thing for Ari.”
“To Toto,” Jenny proclaims giving Aubrey a wink, and we throw back the shots.
“Who’s Ari?” I ask because Aubrey does not look old enough to have a daughter.
“She’s my daughter; had her when I was real young.”
That’s cool. How old is she?”
“Ari’s ten. She’s awesome.”
“Yes, she is. You would love her, Maura.”
“I bet I will,” I say happily. There is something about Aubrey that makes me feel comfortable with her.
The three of us make our way to the dance floor where Aubrey fits right in with Jenny and my crazy moves. We dance song after song and this is just what I needed.
“I’m going to grab another round,” I shout over the music to the girls.
I spot my dad at the bar again, so I take up a spot next to him and signal to Jack for another round. It doesn’t matter how crowded the bar is, that man always makes me a priority, which is awesome on a night like tonight.
“Everything alright with Daws and you? ‘Cause I’ll tell you Maura, the shite he said went down? I’ll put it this way, I’m watching him.”
“Dad, it’s not Daws’ fault. He may have been using my grief to his advantage, but I used him just the same. If anyone is really guilty in the situation, it’s me. I just hope he can forgive me, and move on. I hate that he has wasted so much time pining for me.”
Dad tilts his bottle in the direction of Dawson who is standing against the wall with one foot propped up.
“I don’t think you are going to have much of a problem with him moving on.” I understand what Dad is saying as I follow Daws’ line of sight. For once it’s not directed at me. Instead he has a look I've never seen before and it’s fixated on Aubrey. Hmm…I smile. That sure explains why it was so easy for him to let me off the hook.
“Dad, I’m actually glad I caught you by yourself. There is something I want to talk to you about.”
“What’s up, Ba
by Girl?” Dad says in a lazy I’ve been drinking kind of way, his Irish accent barely visible.
“I’m not coming home,” I rush out nervously. I’m not sure how this conversation is going to go, but on the drive here, I had a lot of time to think, and I know that this is best.
“The feck you’re not,” he immediately sobers.
“Hear me out, okay. I love you, Dad, and you’ve been an amazing dad, but after meeting Corbin and being on my own for a bit, I realized that all I've ever known is the club. I don’t trust people. I keep myself guarded all of the time, and I drink too much. I can’t help but feel like the last few weeks that I've been away that I'm really beginning to discover things about myself. I like to cook Dad. Me. A cook! And I’m good at it.”
“You can cook here.”
“No. Maybe, I’m not making sense. I think for the first time in my life, I’m discovering things about myself and not just being who the club needs me to be. I'm learning to be Maura, and I'm learning to be okay with my mistakes. Do I hope that Corbin forgives me and comes back to me? Absolutely. But a part of me is figuring out that if I'm going to have successful relationships, I need to be able to be open and honest with myself and with the person I love. I’m not an Ole Lady, you didn’t raise a docile girl. You raised a strong woman, Mick, that has to learn to spread her wings.”
Dad pulls me in close to him, “You fly, Baby Girl. Soar. I won't hold you back, but this will always be your home.”
Jack, perhaps sensing our father daughter moment, sets two shots of a dark brown liquid in front of us. We raise our glasses and Dad toasts, “I have known many, liked not a few, loved only one, I drink to you.”
Chapter 20
I blink my eyes a few times through my sleepy haze, and realize I'm in my room at the clubhouse. My throat is parched, and I'm in serious need of some orange juice. The outside light is just starting to filter in, and I notice my dad passed out in his bed on the other side of the room.
We got a ride back from one of the prospects last night and stayed up drinking late into the evening at the clubhouse bar. It was silly. I was drunk and it was a whole lot of fun, but how I managed to pass out in my tighter than all hell Trinity costume I have no idea.
I pour myself a glass of juice from the small fridge and inhale a few aspirin. As I gulp down the last of the juice, I notice a red blinking light on my cell phone.
The number is not one I recognize, so I dial my voicemail.
“Hello, Maura. This is Jackson Marx, Corbin’s father. There has been an incident and I just got Corbin’s phone and saw your messages. I didn’t realize there was a you, or I would have called sooner. Please call me back at 508-555-2121.“
The glass falls from my hand, hitting the floor and shattering into many pieces. The noise causes my Dad to sit up.
“For feck’s sake, Maura!” He begins to chastise me until he sees my face streaming with tears. My hand shakes as I dial the number.
“Marx,” A curt voice on the other end answers. His voice is similar to Corbin’s, but there is a slight gruffness to it.
“Hi, Mr. Marx. I’m Maura McCafferty,” I manage to get out but my voice is trembling. “What’s happened?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. Had I known Corbin was involved with someone, I would have contacted you. I only received his belongings today.”
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Please let him be alive. I send up a prayer, as my legs start to buckle underneath me. Dad is beside me, holding me up and walking me to the edge of the bed.
Mr. Marx continues, “Six days ago, Corbin took 3 bullets. Two to the chest and one in the leg. When he was shot, he sustained a head injury, as well. I hate to be the one tell you this, but he is in a coma. It’s bad. The kind that we just have to pray he wakes up from.”
Alive. He’s Alive.
“Where is he?”
“He was transferred to the Walter Reed Military Hospital near Washington, D.C.”
“Thank you for calling me. I’m on my way, but I’m like five hours out from there. Are you there with him?”
“Yes. he has been here for three days. After they stabilized him, they transferred him here, and I've been here since.”
“Okay. I know he can’t hear you, but will you tell him I’m coming, anyways?”
“I’ll do that for you, and again I’m sorry that I’m just now calling you. I had no idea my son was seeing someone, until I saw the texts on his phone.”
“It’s okay. I’ll call you when I get there. Thank you.”
“Daddy,” I barely get out before I start to fall apart.
“Don’t break down on me now. What’s happened?”
“Corbin’s been shot. He’s in a coma,” I sob.
Dad lets me go from his embrace, stands, and starts to throw on a thermal.
“Bike or truck, Maura?”
“My bike’s not here.”
“I know. I got you, Baby Girl. Do you want to ride or drive?”
“Ride. It will be faster.”
“It’s cold out. You got a pair of chaps here?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Alright, then pull yourself together. I’ll make arrangements for Rosalina’s truck. Meet me out front in five.” Mickey is dressed, swinging his leather on, before I even blink.
“And Maura?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s breathing. Hold onto that. Now, hurry up.”
I focus for a second. Breathe in, breathe out. I can do this, I can be strong for him. I quickly strip out of my Trinity costume and throw on my warmest clothes for the ride ahead of us. When I get outside, the purr of Dad’s pipes is the only sound I hear.
Minute after minute, hour after hour, the cold wind steals tears from the cracks of my eyes. I hold on to my Dad, grateful for the comfort his closeness brings. I try not to think about what I will find when I see Corbin. I know right now if I dwell on the thoughts, I will fall apart. And Dad is right, I need to be strong for Corbin. So, I focus. Two minutes between freeway signs. Ten minutes between exits. Eighty-five miles down an hour. Time is slow when I want it to be fast. It is cold; colder than I would normally ride. The chill helps numb me. I need to be numb, because if I let myself feel, I won't hang on.
Dad is quick on the bike, and luckily with the early Sunday morning non-existent traffic, we get there in nearly four hours. Dad pulls up in front of the hospital, and I hop off the bike.
“I’ll park, and then I’ll be up, aye?” I nod my head and flip my phone out, dialing Corbin’s dad to let him know I’m here.
Jackson Marx approaches, and there is no mistaking his relation. He is almost as tall, and not quite as broad as Corbin. His hair is salt and pepper and the lines around his eyes are the only thing that give away his age. He is dressed in a black Henley and black trousers. My breath momentarily catches at how similar the father and son look.
“Mr. Marx,” I approach sticking out my hand. He grabs my hand and looks over me. His eyes judge me; I can see it.
“Maura, pleased to meet you. Please, call me Jackson.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Not good. One of the bullets in his chest caused an infection, so they have been dealing with that and his heart rate has been sporadic.” I follow him down a long, white corridor into a stale white elevator.
“Do you know what happened?”
“Line of duty” is the clipped response that I get from Jackson. When we exit the elevator, I’m surrounded by another stale, white hallway. The scent of Lysol and antiseptic waft through the air as we approach his room.
Jackson places his hand on my back, “I’ll give you a few minutes.” And right there, the initial look of judgement is gone. What I see in his eyes is the desperation of a father.
I enter his room and the first bed is empty, it appears that whomever occupied the space recently left and housekeeping has started to change the linens. I walk past a divider and that’s
when I see him. The air whooshes out of my lungs. He has a bandage around his head and his face is swollen. Colors of green and purple mix on the side of his face telling a tale of his injuries. The depth of their color a week later gives testament to how badly he is hurt. Corbin’s sides also appear to be bandaged but I can't completely see because a blanket comes up over him. I approach Corbin warily, afraid to hurt him. My instincts is to throw myself on top of him, but my mind halts me.
My strong, beautiful Marine is broken. Tears form in my eyes, but I heed Dad’s words and stay strong. If my Marine is broken, I will be his strength. I grab his lifeless fingers in mine, entangling them together.
I kiss the sides of his face as gently as I can, and in a whisper tell him everything I wish he could hear, “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough or smart enough to trust you. I’m sorry I let you down.” The next words come out even softer, “I’m sorry for betraying my heart, because that’s exactly what I did. I know you think I betrayed you, and I did but mostly I went against everything inside of me.” I stroke the sides of his face as I continue, “I’m done being too weak. I’m done not being smart enough. I will be strong enough for the both of us. I'm done wrecking you. You come back to me. I won’t wreck us. I will do everything I can to put us back together.”
I brush his fingertips across my face as a single tear leaks out on to them. I stare at his face for I’m not even sure how long, hoping that he will wake up. He doesn’t. I know I need some answers. I kiss him on his cheek and walk out of the room to find my dad shaking Jackson’s hand. “I’d like to speak to his Doctor, please.”
As I stand in the hallway with my Dad, who is being as supportive as a dad can be, I hear alarms go off in Corbin’s room. Nurses and doctors rush into his room, chaotically. I hurry back inside, angry that I walked away even for a minute. The heart monitor is going berserk. A nurse calls a code into the intercom and a crash cart is urgently brought into the room. I stand off to the side not wanting to be in the way but not sure of what to do.
“Dammit, Marx! You fight. I’m here fighting, but it only works if you fight too. Fight! Dammit! I love you. Fight.”
Wreck You Page 18