I try again, building up my force. I keep pulling and pulling until there is nothing else to pull, with more force behind the drive, I run into the wall with all my might. The wall shakes a bit, but nothing else. Sharp sheering pain makes it to my head and behind my eyes, the feeling as if I’ve actually hit a real wall head first. I start to feel sick.
I hold onto Tucker’s hand at a bruising rate. "Damn it." I grumble as I grit my teeth. I rub my head with my free hand. I don’t dare try to open my eyes.
Both Everett and Tucker are saying something to me but I can’t understand what. It’s as if I’m under a tunnel and can’t hear them properly. My ears are ringing with a high-pitched sound.
Is the room spinning or it just me?
Someone is rubbing the back of my neck. I groan. It feels good. Perspiration gathers on my upper lip.
Once the pain calms down and the ringing in my ears stop, I try and regain my bearings ready to go again.
"Don't push it too much Dillon, we will eventually break through." Everett tries to warn me. I blink finally able to hear him properly.
But, that isn't good enough. I know I can do this and I need to do this as soon as possible. I take a deep breath in then out and channel every last bit of remaining strength I have left. I shove back against the metaphysical wall in my mind. It shakes again so I start pushing more than ever, just when I feel that I have almost broke through it snaps back. I get yanked backwards, lighting white pain seers my brain, my eyes and body. The last of my energy depletes. My body feels heavy, like I have weights pulling me down. I try to open my eyes but find myself unable to. Blackness drags me down. The last thing I remember was mumbling the word 'Shit' as my world goes blank.
***
I groan as I come to with my head pounding furiously with a sharp, stabbing pain. A blinding light assaults me behind my eye lids. I cry out. Darkness suddenly replaces the light.
“Shh, is that better?”A sweet timber voice floats to my ears.
“Flint?” I ask feeling panicked. Why can’t I open my eyes? I feel around, realizing I’m on a bed. How did I get here?
“Yes, it is me, Pchelka. You pushed yourself too hard trying to form the alliance. You will be ok. You will be able to open your eyes soon without pain. Here take this,” he grabs my left hand and directs it to a bottle of water, he then puts something small in my other hand. “It will help with the pain.” Recognizing what it is, I lift my head up slightly; groaning from the pain, then blindly put the pills in my mouth and swallows them down with water.
“Good, go back to sleep and rest, we are taking care of Lyon and everything else. I just came in to check on you, as you have been out for a few hours.”
Hours?
I start to panic and struggle to sit up, but a hand gently pushes me back down. My breath comes out ragged. The room starts to spin. I give up, knowing I’m in no state to move let alone take care of Lyon. A cool hand touches my face and smoothes some of my hair out of the way.
"Mmmm" I tried to convey to him how good his touch feels but finding my words not coming out.
"Shhhhh its okay, everything will be okay." Flint reassures me again. Something presses against my upper brow. My heart flutters, my subconscious realizing what has happened but my brain is unable to make the connection. His hand runs along my jaw, I sigh, drifting back to the blissful nothingness of sleep, feeling more content than I have in a long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I know I’m where I need to be, at least for now.” - Zephyr
Zephyr
I grip my hair tighter as I pace the length of the small workshop in the back. I make large strides counting as I go.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, Damnit! I should have been there!
I pull harder on my hair. At this rate, I will have no hair left. Between Tucker and myself when we are stressed, anyone would wonder if we are in running competition on who wants to go bald first. I haven’t been able to settle down since I got home last night and Ev told me about what happened to Dillon. The crazy woman pushed herself way too hard last night. I’m kind of pissed off that Everett never explained more to her; how there are limits and how our bodies can only cope with only so much.
Hell, we’re not actually magical!
It could have been preventable if I had been there though. I wouldn’t have allowed her to push so hard.
How could Ev and Tuck just do that? Shit, why wasn’t I there last night? I really hope she’s not in too much pain.
“Arghh!” I stomp back across the way, kicking random debris that has fallen from previous projects. I slow my aggravated walk to stand in front of my current project. I run my hand through my bird’s nest hair. When I first got here a few days ago it took me awhile to find the board. That was more due to the fact that Deacon’s crew welcomed me back with open arms and wanted to know what I have been up to lately. It felt good to be wanted somewhere and be to back in a place that is so familiar to me.
I found the board under a sheet tucked in the back corner of Deacon’s personal work space. I was taken back when I first walked into the room, because it looked just like it always had. It’s as if it has been frozen in time, except for the dust that has been collecting on surfaces and the stale air from being closed up. I’m not completely sure if anyone has been in here since his passing; although I am inclined to think not. I have had the hardest time even getting to the sheet covered board, because like his sister, Deacon was obsessed with photographs. I spent the first hour in this room walking the walls and reliving every memory of us. I also spent that first hour fighting the itch in my body, the feeling of wanting to turn around and high tail it out of here and go find release in a bottle somewhere. But, I stuck it through and I’m now going onto seventy-two hours without a drop of alcohol in my system. I refuse to back down now.
Looking upon Lyon’s board now, I run my hands along the newly sanded surface and bend down to check and make sure the curve is what Deacon had wanted. This is the reason for my sudden change into sobriety. I need to insert myself back into Lyon’s life and be there for him. That kid deserves a lot more then what I’ve been giving him lately.
I mean, who else is supposed to remind him how amazing his parents were? Well besides Dillon that is.
I have so much to tell him, so many happy stories. I need to be there for him so when he is a grown man he will know everything about his father. He will know he was loved from the very moment Marissa found out she was pregnant. However, although they were young, they were determined to make it. Dillon was their rock, as she is his now.
As is the norm now, my heart clinches when I think of her. I can’t deny that I’m hoping to be accepted back into her life as well, but right now I just don’t think that is a possibility. There is no way I deserve to be welcomed back with open arms. No, I have fucked up too bad over the years, and especially lately. I need to prove to both of them that I’m willing to change and be a better man. I’m going nowhere; I’m here to stay.
Taking a deep breath, I move my mask back to cover my mouth; I grab the sander, and go back to rounding the edges. A short time into that I feel my phone buzzing against my leg in my pocket. I turn off the sander sitting it back down the table and grab it out to check the messages. The first thing I see is a picture of Lyon beaming at the camera and wearing a fitted Red Sox hat. I smile.
Yeah that’s my munchkin, smart choice on the teams. Underneath the picture Flint wrote:
Flint: Where are you at? Want to come play ball with us?
I look back to the board, knowing what I’m about to do is not going to win me any points in favor towards Dill or Lyon, but in the end, I hope they will see and understand what has been taking precedence in my life. I just hope they both love it.
Me: I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m still working on that thing. Tell Lyon, I am proud of his choice in hats and that he is a smart dude for picking that team.
Flint: You’ve been working really hard the
past few days, are you sure you can’t break away? No project is that important. Plus, Lyon has been asking for you and if you are okay.
Shit.
I groan. I wish I could just tell Lyon what I’m doing, but I know Deacon was adamant on making this a surprise.
Me: This project is. I hate to ask, but please explain to him that I’m okay and after this is done I will be there to play ball with you all whenever he wants me to.
Flint: Okay, I will do my best. But you might want to think about reorganizing your priorities, because you are missing out on his life man. Talk to you later.
I lock my phone, slightly miffed that he would assume what I’m doing isn’t important.
But, he is right; I really am missing out on Lyon’s life. I have been for quite some time.
I pull my mask off my face and throw it across the floor. I try not to focus on what he said but it’s hard. I start to pace again.
I know he has every right to doubt what I’ve been doing, it’s not like I have given any one a reason to be confident in me. But fuck, it would be nice to have someone in my corner believing in me. How have I let my life get this screwed up?
I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and pick up the mask I threw from halfway across the room. I put it on and then grab the sander again. I guess I’m just going to have to make more of an effort to prove to everyone that I’m getting my shit together. I just hope that in doing this, it will be a step in the right direction.
***
A few weeks have passed and I’m still cooped up in this work space day in and day out. I have missed out on Thanksgiving with everyone. Flint’s daily messages of invitations to come hang out with him and Lyon have slowly started to dwindle, I suppose he’s been losing hope in me coming. It makes me sad thinking everyone now believes me to be a lost cause, but I need to make sure this is perfect for Lyon’s birthday.
Even though Flint and his messages have stopped, that doesn’t mean I don’t try and put more of an effort in at home when I’m around the guys. We are now in a routine where we gather around each night, just a couple of us or sometimes all of us, so we can catch up.
I look over the painting I put on the surface of Lyons board, turning my head this way and that, seeing it from different angles. I think I did a rather good job. Painting, detailing, and stripping have always been a thing Deacon excelled in more. I’m usually the one who constructs the shape to fit the size of the person. We made an amazing team for all the years we worked together. Doing this on my own has been bittersweet. I really wish we could have finished it together.
I grab a small can of clear waterproof sealer and then my brush. I start losing myself to my thoughts over the past few weeks while I paint the top.
Everett has filled me in every time they attempted to form the alliance, and though Dillon is convinced she can feel her barrier weaken, she has yet to be able to break through. I also discovered that Ev had warned her not to push too hard, but he has yet to realize the full extent of Dillon’s determination.
But he sure hasn’t made the same mistake again.
He also hasn’t let her try with Tucker anymore, wanting him on the outside to feel out her energy. So lately, just the other three guys have been rotating. Everett said last night that he is going to call a break for a while and let her have some time to take a breather. He can tell she is really starting to get down on herself. So to distract her, he is going to give her more books to add her reading list; hopefully it will help her learn the customs of our people.
I can’t deny that I feel jealous knowing that everyone else is getting time to develop a connection and bond with her, but I also feel like she still needs a break from me. I know I’m where I need to be at least for now. With just a few more days remaining until Lyon’s birthday, I need to finish this up, and fast.
Being in my own little bubble, I haven’t really been paying much attention to anything outside of my family. Connor has filled me in on the sporadic weather that has been popping up in the north east again. Everyone in the Mikroelementy community has now been drawn to what is happening. The uppers have dispatched some people out when major storm cells have been forming, and thankfully they were able to control them enough to not cause a string of outbreaks with tornados and floods. It has all of us wondering if there has ever been something like this in our elder’s lifetime. I know down here in the south hurricane season can either be active or not, just like storm season in mid America, it can also be a hit or miss. But, up on the north east coast around New York, Jersey, and Maine this type of activity should not be occurring and dissipating suddenly, only then to reoccur again. Connor has taken over this mystery in hopes of keeping Everett concentrated on helping Dill. Although, in all honestly, I don’t think Everett gives two shits about the weather right now. Dill is his main puzzle. Knowing how his mind works, since the uppers have a hand in the situation he probably feels like they can figure it out. I don’t blame him for that either, I agree.
I dip my paint brush back into the can and wipe the excess along the edges as I prepare to get back into my melodic rhythm.
“Knock, knock” A voice says from behind me. I jump and then relax as I know who that voice belongs to. I sit both the brush and the small can to the side and turn to give her my full attention; she would ring my neck if I didn’t.
“Mom what are you doing here?” I smile as I cross the room and take her small body into my arms for a tight hug. Though she is petite she could squeeze all her love into me, and in this moment, that is exactly what I need.
“I was coming to check up on you of course,” she says as she steps back and holds me at arm’s length to examine me. I stay still so she can take inventory. I sigh, running my hand through my hair knowing she won’t like what she finds.
“Hunny, have you lost weight?” concern furrows her brow as she slid her hands up to my face and cradle it.
“Things have been a little rough lately,” I confess, not really wanting to dig it all up and make her worry, but also not wanting to lie to her.
“So I have heard,” She quirks her eyebrow up at me catching me off guard.
She’s heard? From who? I echo my thoughts and ask her.
“Oh hunny, don’t be upset.” she moves one of her hands from my cheek to smooth out the crinkle that has developed between my eyebrows. “Flint has been worried about you; he called and filled me in a bit.” I sag my shoulders in defeat. I really can’t blame him. I know he means well, but this isn’t exactly the type of thing I want my mother to be worrying about.
“No, Zeppy, don’t shut me out. Talk to me, maybe I can help.” She places her soft palm back to my cheek; I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. The act fills my nostrils and lungs full of the warm brown sugar smell that tends to cling to her from working in her bakery; she smells like home.
“I don’t know how I let myself fall this far, and I’m just now trying rebuild the pieces of everything I have destroyed,” I confess as I reach up and take both of her dainty hands in mine, clinging to them like a life line. I stare into her understanding eyes.
“None of us ever know how we let ourselves fall too far until it’s already happened.” She tells me in that all knowing sweet voice of hers. The weight of the world suddenly feels like it drops back on top of my shoulders, they sag even more. She tugs on my hands and leads me to the two stools propped in the corner where we take a seat.
“How did you dig yourself out of it?” I ask, never truly knowing the full story of what happened for her to actually get her act together and comeback to being my mom.
“Honestly?” She looks into my eyes trying to gauge if I want the truth. I squeeze her hands a bit it in reassurance and she takes a deep breath.
“Mrs. Danvers was the one to get through to me.” She admits, and even though I knew this, I never really knew how. So, I decide to ask.
“Really? How?” I want to know what her break through point was; because it’s obvious
we have something in common. That being a Danvers family member is the one to get through to us.
“Yes really, and she just came over to talk to me. Without getting into too much detail she sympathized with me over the loss of your father, but also pushed me to realize that if I didn’t get my act together I would be losing you next.” My heart broke for her, because I realize that our break through is quite similar.
“Now, not trying to be too invasive but how long has it been since you last had a drink?” She pegs me to my spot on the stool with her mom look; the look that means that no matter what, she will be getting the truth out of me.
“How much did Flint tell you?” I chuckle breaking eye contact, a bit intimidated by her intensity.
“Enough to know you need me.” She replies. I take a deep breath ready let her in.
“It has been three weeks and two days since my last drink.” I manage to get out and I see my mom’s face light up. I grimace.
She squeezes my hands tightly then pulls me into a hug as she proclaims, “You’re almost to the one-month mark! I am so proud of you!”
Thank you Flint, this is exactly what I need.
After a moment of just relishing in my mom’s hug and love she breaks apart once more holding me at arm’s length to look directly into my eyes, “Would you go somewhere with me?”
I look towards the board that is so close to being finished. I don’t really want to take any more time away from completing it. I have wasted enough time not messing with it while I was avoiding this place. Mom grabs my chin and turns my focus back to her.
“I will only take about an hour and a half of your time. I promise you, you need this.” Never the one to say no my mother I nod my head yes and go to get up from the stool.
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