My friends’ requests to try and get me to open the door were turning more and more pleading, and I felt bad. I’d agreed to go on this ride today, thinking it would be a good distraction, but knowing now that getting on my motorcycle wasn’t a good idea.
It wasn’t a good idea at all.
My phone buzzed beside me and I picked it up, despondent. It was Haley. I didn’t want to talk to her like this, knew that Brody or Ace had probably texted her to see if she could raise me, and sighed heavily as I went ahead and took the call.
I couldn’t deny Haley anything.
“Hello.” My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, thick with syrupy bourbon and sadness.
“Chuck, what’s going on with you?” I could hear Haley’s frown in her voice, even if it was tinny on my crappy phone. The guys were always on me to upgrade my devices, but I was something of a luddite. If I couldn’t fix it with my own two hands, I didn’t trust it. If and when I dropped my phone, the battery simply bounced away from the back of the casing. I didn’t have to worry about shattered touch screens or shelling out hundreds of dollars for a replacement.
“Are you there?”
“I’m here,” I said, heaving a sigh. “How are you?”
She laughed, incredulous. “Don’t you dare ask me how I am. Ace told me you’re not answering the door to your place.”
“Just not feeling well today,” I said.
“You should try to suck it up,” Haley said, not unkindly. “Spring has sprung, Chuck. Everything is in bloom. The sun is warm and the air is cool, and if you guys would let me into your little club, I’d love to go for a ride.”
Improbably, I felt my lips quirk into a small smile. “You don’t have to be in the club to go on a ride. Anytime you want to go, I’ll take you. Any of us would. You know that.”
“I know that. I also know that you’d better let the rest of the guys into your apartment before they break down the door.”
“Okay. Maybe I will.”
“Chuck?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
And that was the question, wasn’t it? Most days, I was okay. Or at least as okay as I could’ve been, after everything. But then there were days like today, when the grief of losing my twin sister was too much for me to handle. It was the anniversary of her death today, and that was something I’d never failed to mark and dread. It hadn’t gotten one bit easier, not even three years after her passing.
“I’m okay,” I said finally, reluctantly, willing it to be so even if I didn’t think it was fair that I should want to be okay if Chelsea wasn’t. I’d never anticipated a world without my twin sister.
“Okay. Open the door. Let your friends in.”
“All right.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
“If Ace texts me again and says that you lied to me, Chuck, and didn’t let them in, then so help me God…”
“I’m not lying. I’ll do it now.”
“Good. Remember that you have good friends who would do anything for you, if anything is wrong.”
The sad and terrible story of losing my twin wasn’t something I was about to burden Haley with. “You’re right. Thanks, Haley.”
“I’ll see you later at the bar, after the ride.”
I still didn’t think I was in any shape to go for a ride, but I agreed, not wanting to sound like I was trying to be contrary. Maybe I could catch a ride from one of the guys to drop me off there so I could at least drown my sorrows in the presence of strangers. Even though there was no way to drown the rising tide of sorrow, really. Time hadn’t done it. Alcohol didn’t help, either. It felt entirely plausible that I would feel this bador worse for the rest of my life, and maybe that was what I deserved for still being alive when she was gone.
I ended the call and took several deep breaths in an attempt to keep my emotions at bay.
“So are you going to open the door, Chuck?” I recognized Jack’s voice on the other side of the window behind me. “We heard you talking.”
“And Haley just confirmed that you promised her you’d open the door,” Ace said. “Come on, bud.”
“I’m coming,” I muttered, feeling tired and beaten down even though I hadn’t been up for very long.
The faces that met me when I swung the door open would’ve been comical in any other situation. Jack’s concern was hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, but Ace had pushed his atop his head, squinting in the bright sun. Haley had been right. It was a beautiful day outside. The perfect day for a ride, if my head hadn’t been so messed up.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Brody demanded, his arms crossed over his barrel chest.
“Turn it down a couple of notches,” Sloan suggested to him. “Chuck, what’s going on? Did you oversleep? Can we come in?”
“Fuck, it smells like the bar in here oh, shit, that’s just you.” Brody gave me a long look, and I felt the sharp prodding of anger along my spine. It felt good, actually, to feel something other than grief.
“You know what, fuck you,” I suggested. “I don’t come into your house and judge whatever you’re doing there.”
“Hey, no worries,” Jack said easily, patting Brody on the back as he stepped around him. “This is definitely a no-judgment zone. We’re your friends.”
“You know, though, if you really wanted to day drink instead of go on a ride with us, you could’ve at least invited us,” Ace said. “Just saying.”
I shook my head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like, Chuck?” Sloan asked. “Tell us what’s wrong.”
I couldn’t stop shaking my head, back and forth, only dimly aware that my hands were shaking, too. “Today’s just not a good day for me.”
“Hey, we get it,” Jack assured me. “We all have bad days. You still have any of that what is that smell? Whiskey?”
“Bourbon,” I mumbled, feeling like an asshole. “You want a shot or something?”
“If you’re drinking because you’re sad, we’re not going to let you do it alone,” Ace said. “Got any clean glasses?”
“In the kitchen,” I said. “I can get them.”
“No, no, no,” Ace said, waving me away. “I’ll be the bartender today. I don’t mind.”
“It’s your day off,” Brody said. “Of course you mind.”
“Not for my friends, I don’t.” There was some rummaging around in the kitchen, and Ace’s whistle was pitched low with wonder. “You’re running a little low on that bourbon, bud.”
“There’s another bottle on top of the fridge,” I said.
“Ah, got it.”
Soon everyone had a glass with a finger or two of amber liquid poured into it.
“You going to tell us what we’re drinking to today, Chuck?” Jack asked, clinking the rim of his glass with mine.
I cleared my throat, raised my glass. If we were really going to do this, we were going to do it right. “To my twin sister. To Chelsea.”
There was a pregnant pause before Sloan started to stammer. “To…to Chelsea.”
Everyone took a solemn gulp of their drinks, but I only let the bourbon touch my lips. I really didn’t think I could stomach any more alcohol today. I just wanted to crawl into a corner somewhere and go the fuck to sleep, escape the grief rolling around in my brain.
Jack let out a heavy sigh. “This is the anniversary of Chelsea’s death, isn’t it?”
I gave a short nod, not sure I could trust my voice to confirm.
He cursed. “I’m sorry we didn’t…didn’t realize. That it was today.” That she was the reason I was drunk in the middle of the morning. He didn’t have to say that for me to know what he meant.
“You should’ve told us, bud,” Ace said. “Given us a head’s up, or something.”
It wasn’t something that I could talk about so easily, and they should’ve realized that, too.
“Should I go pick up a case or two of beer?” Sloan asked.
Brody gave him a disapproving look. “What?”
“Do you really think that’s what Chuck needs right now?” Brody asked him.
“Beer might be easier on his belly than bourbon,” Sloan said. “Aw, man. Have you eaten yet, Chuck?”
“Just coffee.” It felt like there was a wave pool of lava sloshing around in my stomach. I knew it would burn just as much coming up as it did going down, and I began to dread it as an inevitability.
“So the answer to that is ‘no,’” Sloan said wryly. “All right. No problem. I’ll go pick up some beer. Brody, maybe you should head to the diner and get some plates to go.”
“How about it, Chuck?” Brody asked. “Think you can stomach some breakfast?”
“It could be like a club breakfast,” Ace suggested. “Instead of the ride.”
“I wanted to ride today,” I said quietly. “I just don’t think I can right now.”
“Hey, no problem,” Jack said, his voice steady, something I could lean on. “The day’s young, anyway. It’s first thing in the morning. A sunset ride might be even nicer than a morning one.”
“I wanted to… I was going to go to the cemetery today. Where she’s buried. Put fresh flowers on the grave.” It sounded stupid and pathetic even to my own ears, but there it was, my weakness hanging in the air, everyone giving me looks that ranged from sympathetic to worried and everything on the spectrum in between.
“We can do that,” Jack said. “That would be a good ride.”
“I can’t do that right now.” It was painful to admit. So painful. That I was failing Chelsea in death just as I’d failed her in life, that I was weak and ridiculous and now all my friends knew that, too.
“Then we’ll all hang out here, if that’s all right, and go later, when you’re feeling up to it,” Jack said. “How does that sound?”
It sounded like everyone was looking to give up their day because of my weakness and stupidity, but everyone was making sounds of assent and Sloan and Brody were stepping out to get beer and breakfast and Ace was making more coffee and Jack was helping me sit down on the couch, talking to me, the words not making sense, washing over me.
When I woke up later with a nasty headache and a dry mouth, on the couch, I was surprised to find the impromptu social gathering still in full swing. Ace and Sloan were laughing about a joke or story or something that I’d been asleep for, and Brody was bending Jack’s ear about a certain craft beer he thought would sell well at the bar. I watched them all for a while, reality seeping back into my brain. This was the anniversary of my sister’s death, and I was obviously still in mourning, but I had the best friends a person could have. They’d given up their entire day, and all the plans they’d had, to simply be here for me.
I felt a little guilty that they could’ve been spending their days doing whatever they wanted, and they’d had to stay and essentially babysit me. Then, a bigger shot of guilt if Ace, Brody, and Jack were all still here, that meant Haley was running the bar on her own. That didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of handling it, but I hated the idea that I was causing her any additional stress.
“Look who’s back in the land of the living,” Sloan said, clapping me on the back and making me jump. “How you feeling, Chuck?”
“A little hungover,” I was forced to say, coughing.
“A beer will clear that right up,” he said, laughing.
“Or he can try some aspirin and water,” Jack said, shaking his head at Sloan in disapproval. “What do you think, Chuck? What are you feeling like?”
Not like bourbon, that was for sure. But one of the breakfast platters from the diner wasn’t half-bad, warmed up in the microwave, and after some reheated coffee and a pair of aspirin, I was somewhere close to feeling like myself again.
“Sorry that you all had to just hang around here,” I said after I’d brushed my teeth and splashed a bit of water on my face. I’d looked like an old man to myself in the mirror, deep lines carving up the real estate on my forehead. I wondered which heartbreak had caused which wrinkle, but there probably wasn’t a way of really telling. “You didn’t have to, you know. You could’ve just gone on with your day and left me to sleep it off.”
Jack opened his mouth to say something and closed it again, seeming to think better of it. “It’s not every day we get to chill out and have a house party,” he said instead. “It was kind of a nice change of pace from being at the bar.”
“We should have a house party every week,” Ace added. “We could rotate who hosts it. Could be fun.”
“Maybe,” I said, uncertain, trailing off, hyper aware that they were humoring me. They had to be. “What time is it?”
“Time to go for a ride, if you’re feeling up to it,” Brody said. “Everyone else feel good?”
“I could ride, definitely,” Sloan said. “How far away is Chelsea, Chuck?”
It was strange, but nice, the way he’d just casually said her name and not added anything macabre, like her grave or the cemetery where she was buried.
“I think it’s about an hour or so, depending on traffic and how fast we go,” I said. “The landscape isn’t much to look at, though.”
“A ride’s a ride,” Jack said. “You ready to go? Want something else to eat or drink?”
“I think it’s time to get on the road,” I said. “If you all are ready.”
There was something special, something that couldn’t quite be replicated, when I was riding my motorcycle in the dead center of the group of five roaring bikes, eating up the miles of pavement before them. Jack always took the point position. It was just the way he was, and I figured it had something to do with his time in the military, though he didn’t remember it. Ace trailed after him, his long hair whipping behind him, in real danger of coming loose in the wind we generated. And I brought up the middle, sort of a counterweight to the rest of the group, the fulcrum of Horizon MC. I knew without glancing in either of my side mirrors that Brody was right behind me with Sloan bringing up the rear because he liked to see all of us spread out in front of him.
It felt goodmuch better than I thought it wouldto be out here on the road with them, the sun approaching the horizon, spring visible in so many different ways across the normally barren landscape. The cacti were in bloom, for one, and it added breathtaking pops of color across the sand. The mountains were smudges in the distance, but they changed color the same way everything did in the setting sun. The closer we approached the river, the more the landscape fleshed out honest to God trees, flowers, brave grass taking root in good soil.
Our parents had raised Chelsea and me in a small town that I just couldn’t handle staying in after her death. I’d sort of drifted away before putting down roots in Rio Seco, which was simultaneously similar enough and different enough to be something of a comfort to me. Rio Seco was a small town, too, so it was easy to get to know people after you ran into the same ones day after day. But it was situated firmly in the desert, which was different from my hometown. The scenery was alien and beautiful, in a savage way, and just looking outside my window assured me that I was far enough away from those terrible memories that lingered at home.
Far enough away from my twin sister’s grave that I could operate under the illusion that everything was going to turn out okay for me.
The closer we got to the location, the farther up in the pack I pushed until I was in the front. It was a natural thing to do, and Ace and Jack slowed to let me overtake them. I knew where we were going, and they didn’t. It wasn’t about power or position. Horizon MC wasn’t like that at all. We supported one another. If one of us had to fall back in order to do that, then it was fine.
The scenery changed, too. It got greener, lusher, more promising for life, especially if you didn’t know anything about all the life that could survive in the desert. For me, though, after Chelsea’s death, seeing the landscape green up like this didn’t remind me of life at all.
I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I signale
d a left-hand turn to the rest of the club, pointing across the road at a place I knew only all too well. I hated coming here, even if I was obligated to. Where else could I pay respects to my twin sister? I remembered the day we put her in the ground like it was yesterday, my mother collapsing just prior to the services, having to miss the entire funeral because she was at a hospital being evaluated. My father had gone with her, and I had been the only immediate family member at the service, sitting in the front row of folding chairs all by myself, no one else knowing what to do. I’d wanted to collapse to the ground, too, just like my mother, but I had to hold it together. I couldn’t let them put my sister in the ground without anyone there for her. When it was time to drop a rose onto the casket, I made sure to drop two extra for our parents, who couldn’t seem to stand the sight of their daughter being interred into the ground, a grave that was opened for her entirely too early.
The hardest thing by far, though, was having to stand there long after the ceremony was over, accepting people’s condolences, standing as they practically lined up to pump my hand and yammer at me. All I could see, even as well-wishers recalled their favorite memories of my sister, was the bulldozer waiting just beyond the grave, ready to fill the hole with dirt again, seeking to render my sister to dust.
The parking lot of the cemetery was empty, which was probably for the best as five motorcycles idled in it loudly enough to wake the dead before everyone cut their ignitions, aware of where they were. I was relieved to make it to the cemetery at all today, even if the sun was gilding everything in gold, well on its way to setting. But there was still that persistent dread I felt every single time I came here or thought about coming here.
Every time I thought of my sister’s bones in the earth, planted like seeds that would never grow.
“Fuck,” I said, pausing in taking off my helmet.
“What’s up?” Sloan asked me. “What’s wrong?”
“I completely forgot about getting flowers,” I said. “It was the whole reason I wanted to come up here in the first place, to put flowers on” On Chelsea’s grave, even if I couldn’t get it out of my mouth without choking.
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