RECYCLED MEMORY

by Richardson, SH

  I’d have to look out for that girl going forward. She was too small to defend herself against the likes of those assholes at school. I felt an overwhelming need to protect her, like she belonged to me in some way, was my responsibility. The idea should have scared the shit outa me. I’d only met her twice, yet both times she’d managed to make me laugh and forget about the sorrow of losing my parents. I embraced that feeling of being someone’s champion; their savior. Call it a hero complex, but for once I considered someone else’s feelings instead of my own. Maribel needed me on her side, and in a way, I needed her, too.

  I arrived home expecting Nan to already be locked in her room as she had been these past few weeks. I hadn’t actually seen her face in so long I’d almost forgotten what she looked like. I missed her round cheeks and soft eyes that reminded me so much of my mother’s it was difficult to watch her most days without getting choked up. She sat quietly on the couch in the living room as I stepped inside and closed the door. Great. She heard about me skipping school today with Maribel and was about to give me shit. She finally decided to face me again, and the only reason why was because I caused trouble. Thanks a lot, Principle Garvey.

  “Come in and sit down, Marcus.” She had a blanket over her legs and a cup of tea sitting on the table in front of her. She didn’t look so happy to see me after all this time. I took the seat opposite her and waited for the tongue lashing she was about to give me.

  “When I lost my Rachel,” she began slowly, unsure, “it was the worst day of my life. She was my only child and the light of my life. She was my everything.” A lone tear slid down her reddened check, and she took a long moment to compose herself before she continued.

  “Parents should never have to bury their children; it simply goes against the natural order of things. I pray that’s something that will never darken your door, my beautiful grandson.”

  I was completely thrown by the tone of this conversation and where it was headed. I’d expected her to reprimand me about skipping school, not give me a lecture on the unfairness of death as it pertained to those you loved. I didn’t need to be reminded that my parents’ deaths were fucked up and it was hard on the both of us. I lived that shit.

  Every fucking day.

  “Why are you saying all of this, Nan? You regret having to take me on? I already knew that, so why are you bringing this up now?” I didn’t mean to downplay her grief, but I didn’t need her to remind me of how much of a fuckup I was.

  “Oh, Marcus. How wrong you are to think that I regret any part of having you in my life. YOU are the only thing that keeps me going when all I really want to do is give up and join my precious Rachel sooner rather than later.”

  I was shocked silent by her confession. For months, I’d thought I was a horrible burden to her, one she would gladly be rid of if she could manage it. I was wrong to have treated her so poorly, to punish her with my anger and pain since my parents’ death. She’d never deserved my ire, the uncontrollable tantrums of a spoiled child. My parents had taught me better than that. How disappointed they would be if they could see me now.

  “I’m sorry, Nan. I just… Why are you telling me all of this?”

  She took off the blanket from around her legs and scooted further down the end of the couch, close enough that she could grab my hands and hold them tight. She was preparing me for something, I just didn’t know what.

  “I need you to listen to me carefully, Marcus.” She gave me a sad smile.

  “Okay, I’m listening, Nan.”

  “There are certain things I cannot teach you. Your anger frightened me, not that you would hurt me physically, but the sheer magnitude of it.”

  “I’m sorry, Nan. I can change. It will never happen again. I promise.”

  “No, my love.” She touched my cheek with her cold hand. “That is something you cannot promise me. It is within you, part of who you are. What’s important is that you learn to harness that aggression and anger and use it to your advantage. It’s my dream that you live a wonderful life, dear heart, but I am not the one to prepare you for that.” She turned her face away to hide the tears streaming down her puffy eyes. She gathered her wits quickly and without preamble. “I’ve spoken with Buck Calhoun, and he’s agreed to take you on at the junkyard. You’ll work there after school and on weekends when you don’t have homework. Range will be there, so you’ll have another boy your age to pal around with. I encourage you to learn from him, Marcus. He will teach you everything you need to know and some things you probably shouldn’t know.” She quirked a brow.

  It happened so quickly, like a tsunami as it approached a white sandy beach without warning. The burn of unchecked rage struck my chest like a sledgehammer and rendered me helpless to prevent the onslaught. I screamed profanities, launched my Nan’s tea cup against the wall and shattered it to pieces, all while pulling and yanking strands of hair from atop my head, anything to quiet the echo of rushing blood.

  “How could you! I hate that fucking biker! You had not right to call him and ask him to help me! I don’t need his help… don’t want it! I hate you! I hate you!”

  I was lightheaded, my breath heavy like a deranged psychopath’s, unwilling to see or listen to anything or anyone. Nan stood nearby until my tirade was over, no longer crying or shaken. She, too, looked a bit unhinged. She took a few steps forward, squared her shoulders, and slapped me as hard as she could across the face.

  “You will not disobey me on this, Marcus.” She gritted with conviction. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around.” She sat back on the couch and spread the blanket back over her legs with a deep sigh. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this, at least not this way. I’ve been feeling poorly as of late, so I decided to schedule my yearly physical exam to an earlier date. My test results came back, and my kidneys are failing, Marcus. I’m on the donor list, but at my age it’s unlikely I’ll receive one in time. I start dialysis in a week after I meet with the nephrologist.”

  What the fuck?

  Dialysis? Kidney failure?

  Too much talking, too much anger, too much… emotion. I didn’t know what to do with it, how to reel it in. How to make it stop.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I needed out.

  I ran as fast as I could, with no real destination, just freedom. My legs pumped harder as I thought about all the bullshit weighing me down. My parents, Nan; even Maribel and her evil-ass sister felt like a hundred-pound barbell anchored around my neck. I was happy once, with my family and friends. Why did it all have to end? I wanted it back, the smiles, the laughter, and the promises. Nan had no right to do this to me. She didn’t! She was supposed to take care of me, not pawn me off to some broken-down biker, a fucking criminal. He wasn’t a fucking role model. He was scum, dirt, just like that idiot Range and his filthy clothes.

  I’ll show those bastards.

  I’ll show them all.

  I reached the front entrance of that damned junkyard and never stopped running. I had one thing on my mind, and that was to beat the shit out of both Buck and his crony Range. I knew in my heart he was somehow responsible for Nan asking for his help. He’d probably threatened her with bodily harm if she didn’t agree to some stupid code of biker recruitment. Under aged juvenile delinquents were probably responsible for all the fancy cars and motorcycles housed in the yard. That way, if they were ever caught, they wouldn’t go to jail or be sent to prison. That only happened to the grown-ups. I knew the score. I watched it every day on my favorite cop show. I was deaf, dumb, and blind as I swerved in and out of the piles of old tires, wooden pallets, and junked-out cars looking for the one person responsible for everything.

  There he was, directly in my line of sight. Buck Calhoun. He stood off to the side of a beat-up tow truck taking inventory of a new arrival. He wore a T-shirt and an old pair of faded jeans that showcased his fit physique for a man his age. The clipboard he held was dwarfed in size by his large hands intricately covered in colorful tattoos. He
never saw me coming until it was too late, or so I thought. I stood before the large man with no fear or trepidation and swung upward with a closed fist. I tried as hard as I could, hoping to connect with his squared jaw hard enough to knock him on his ass.

  It didn’t work.

  He grumbled deep within his throat, a sound so scary it should have stopped me in my tracks, but I was determined. He used the clipboard in his hand to block the shot with a smooth move expertly practiced over the years. I tried again with the left fist only to have him take a large step backwards, causing me to miss by a mile. To his credit, Buck didn’t try and hit me back or defend himself against my onslaught; he just took it… all of it. Everything I had to give. My body shots were just as ineffective. One after another, I pounded against his chest and stomach until I had nothing left. It was then the giant biker spoke to me for the first time, a strong plea for me to listen to what he had to say.

  “Calm, boy. Easy.” I continued to pound against him. “Calm, it’s over. You got it out of your system now. Calm it the fuck down. Relax. Take a deep breath, Mecken.” His words were forceful but not threatening.

  I listened and slowly got control. My pulse quieted to its normal level, and I inhaled deeply for the first time. My legs felt like cement from the adrenalin crash; they gave out, and the ground caught my fall. My head bowed and buried itself within my chest, eye level to Buck’s well-worn work boots and wide stance directly in front of me.

  “You alright, Buck?” I heard the concerned tone of a boy nearby but didn’t bother to raise my head to see who it was.

  “Yeah. Peachy. You and Sebastian go check on Maxie. Make sure he’s still breathing.”

  “Sure thing, Buck.” Two sets of feet scurried off in the opposite direction.

  “Get up,” Buck growled.

  “No! Fuck off! I hate you!” Even to my own ears I sounded like a chick.

  “I said GET THE FUCK UP!” This time, there was no room for argument. He grabbed me under my arms and hauled me to my feet with an ease I never thought possible.

  “I HATE YOU!” I screamed to the ground.

  “Yeah, well, most people do, but at least that’s a start. Now, look me in my eyes when you speak to me. Always look a man in the eyes, boy, no matter who he is. Demand his respect.”

  I took a few deep breaths and slowly raised my head to meet his heated stare. For a moment, I was afraid he would hit me in retaliation, but he stood with his arms crossed over his muscled chest and waited patiently until I held his gaze.

  “What are you fighting for, Mecken?” Not that shit again.

  Just like the first time, I had no answer to his question, nor did I understand what it meant. Buck was the type of man who expected you to figure things out on your own without his interference. It would take me years to finally grasp the magnitude of his seemingly harmless question and years of heartache to finally find the answer.

  “You’ll learn, boy.” He smacked me hard as fuck on my back. “You’ll fuckin’ learn.”

  TWELVE

  Maribel

  A FEW WEEKS HAD passed since the incident in the cafeteria, and life pretty much went back to normal. My weekly Monday meetings with Mrs. Klein were just as uneventful as before, with the exception of her constant badgering about making friends. I hadn’t bothered to mention Marcus or the run-ins I’d had with him. Let’s face it, I couldn’t actually consider those as a glowing declaration of achievement. He barely acknowledged my existence. I allowed my counselor to blather on and on about the importance of establishing relationships if I wanted to have a healthy and well-rounded future. She was relentless, often citing things like emotional support, reduction of stress, boost to self-esteem, and my favorite, personal growth. According to Mrs. Klein, having friends meant sharing different kinds of experiences that would help me break away from my daily routine and learn about things I hadn’t experienced before, things that would change me for the better. Blah. Blah. Blah.

  What she failed to realize as she spewed her drivel was that no one wanted to share the experiences of a twelve-year-old walking, talking brainiac like me. The other girls in my grade were already dating, or at the very least, interested in boys. I still had yet to have my first kiss, let alone interest from the opposite sex. They wore makeup and stylish clothes, anything and everything to impress and get noticed. My only sense of fashion was making sure I had on a clean lab coat, so the formaldehyde smell wouldn’t burn the hair from the other students’ noses. She wanted me to fit in, to blend with the other freshmen, but how could I? I was so very different from everyone I’d ever met. What would my contribution add to the relationship? A big, fat flying fucking nothing, that’s what. Mrs. Klein talked, I ignored her, and the cycle continued for yet another week. Yay me.

  The only part of my boring routine that had changed over the last few weeks were my visits to the play house. I started going there once every few days just to get away from the grueling class assignments. It had started as my only means of catching a much-needed breather, but it had quickly turned into an everyday thing once I’d added a few personal items from home. A soft, cuddly pink blanket, my favorite books, even a photograph of my parents that I kept on one of the metal shelves that was used for storage. The silence and security of my cabin allowed my wishes and dreams to flow through my mind, and I relished those stolen moments alone, yet something was missing.

  Marcus had been noticeably absent since the day we’d found the place. I’d hoped he would show up on one of the many days I’d been there, but he never did. I missed his tough-guy demeanor and the way he made me feel safe when he placed his arm over my shoulders. We’d found this place together, and being there without him felt wrong. I caught glimpses of him in the halls at school, always alone and always with a deep scowl on his face. He appeared to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, something I knew a lot about. I wanted to talk to him, find out what he had been doing over the last few weeks, but I didn’t have it in me to just run him down in front of the entire student body. So, I did the only logical thing.

  I followed him one day.

  I was better prepared this time, having read six volumes of Nancy Drew Mysteries on paperback during lunch. My stalking game was on point. Not that it was necessary; it wasn’t long before I figured out where he was going, and that was enough to scare the shit out of me. The last time I’d watched Marcus enter Buck’s Junkyard, he’d walked out dirty and in tears. I couldn’t let that happen again. The owner, Buck, wasn’t his friend; he’d said so himself. So, why go back? Whatever the reason, if that asshole Buck wanted to get his hands on Marcus again, he’d have to go through me to do it. My tough guy needed someone to have his back, and that someone was me. Maribel Laine, ass kicker extraordinaire.

  I stepped inside the entryway and took a quick look around. I was relieved when I didn’t see Marcus. Hopefully, I was there in time to stop him before something bad happened. The place was buzzing with activity, oily men dressed in overalls in search of car parts, intellectually challenged Neanderthals from the look of them. Despite my original assumption, the place was quite organized, obsessively so, each pallet symmetrical in its stacking. Whoever owned this place certainly took pride in its appearance, that’s for sure. Too bad he was also an asshole who hurt Marcus, at least that’s what I assumed.

  “Where’s your momma, little girl? Don’t need you gettin’ hurt walking around here all alone.”

  Holy shit! Where did he come from?

  “I… I’m…”

  Ohmigod, Ohmigod, Ohmigod. That voice was inhuman; the growly timber rattled my chest and left me breathless in its wake. He stood over me like a dark cloud. His shadow engulfed my entire frame and left me hidden within its confines. The man was a walking mountain complete with exploding muscles that rippled when he spoke. I barely stood as tall as his waist and had to adjust my glasses on my nose as I looked higher and higher into the face of a beefcake. My mouth flew open of its own accord, and no amount of prodd
ing would get it to close. Any reason I had for being there completely evaporated once the big man growled his displeasure at my unexpected presence.

  “Hello?” He snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I finally blinked. Once. Twice. “You alright, girl? You simple or sumptin’?” His voice was unyielding.

  “I’mlookingforMarcustellmewhereheis.”

  It all spilled from my mouth in one long, jumbled sentence. I tried to keep a brave face, but I was sure I ended up looking constipated at best. The large man grunted and spat a huge loogie on the ground next to me. His eyes narrowed into slits when he muttered a slew of profanities in my direction. A minute ago, he’d thought I was a lost little girl who needed help. Now, I was the “pain in the ass female” who needed a butt whooping for being stupid. Well, that was enough to snap me back to reality and give that joker a piece of my mind.

  “What the fuck’s eating you, pappy? Lay off the ‘roid juice next time, you big, old gorilla.”

  I gave it my best shot, even threw in a sassy move I’d learned from watching an episode of Scooby Do. Hands on my hips, I looked him up and down as if he and I were the same size and I could take him if he tired anything. Once he flexed his fingers and his knuckles cracked, I realized my mistake, but it was too late to take it back. I am fucked.

  “MARIBEL! What the hell are you doing?” Oh, thank God. It was Marcus.

  I’d never been so happy to see his angry tough-guy expression as I was at that moment. He approached, red faced and pissed, maybe even a little embarrassed.

  “Dude, you know that girl? What is she, five years old?”