No Apologies

by Sybil Bartel

  I wasn’t. “All right, I’ll call the hospital.” Gunnar looked at me when I said “hospital” and a flash of fear swept across his face. “I gotta go, thanks for the heads up.”

  “One last thing, the manager is asking for three nights’ back pay. He said he’d release her belongings if you paid the bill. Want me to swing by on my way to work and handle it?”

  Of course she died owing money. Un-fucking-believable. “No, I got it.”

  “Okay. Call if you need anything.”

  What I needed was a fucking handbook because I was going to have to tell Gunnar in about two seconds. “Thanks.”

  I hung up and looked at Gunnar. I didn’t know why I didn’t want to tell him his piece-of-shit mother was dead but I didn’t. I knew he’d take it hard. He was still young enough to give a damn about her. I knew I should probably temper the bad news or act sympathetic or even like it mattered to me on some level, but it didn’t and I was never good at sugarcoating shit.

  So in the end, I just came out with it. “She died, Gunnar.”

  He went perfectly still. Staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused, Gunnar looked like he was trying not to shed a tear. Jesus, I felt for him. I was one year older than him when I’d run away but I was harder. Maybe having my dad around had helped. Gunnar had never had anyone but her, no one to even sit with at breakfast before he went to school.

  “You okay?” I stupidly asked.

  He nodded.

  “Hey.” I waited till he looked at me. When his lost eyes met mine, I wanted her to die all over again. “I got your back. It’s okay to be sad.” Even though it killed me to say it, he had a right to his feelings.

  Looking even sadder, he nodded again.

  I wanted to reach out to him but I was hesitant to touch him. The few times I’d touched his shoulder, he’d flinched and moved away from me. “Look, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. My home is your home now.” But I knew it was time to call my dad. I didn’t know how this was going to play out, how my dad would react, or where he’d want Gunnar to live. Hell, I didn’t even know where Gunnar had been living before the hotel. All he’d said was that they’d been in Pensacola for a few months prior to Miami and Ocala, and that he hadn’t been in school.

  “I want a haircut,” Gunnar whispered.

  I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. “What?”

  He cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. “I want a haircut.”

  Haircut. Not what I was expecting. I glanced at my watch. “Come on.” I stood and offered him a hand. When he took it, I pulled him to his feet and gave him a brief one-arm hug. When he didn’t flinch or pull away, I almost broke down. “Mall’s still open,” I said gruffly. “We have just enough time.” I looked at him and gave a teasing half smile. “Unless you want a Graham special?” I ran my hand over my head. I was due, it’d grown out to a short buzz cut.

  “Mall’s good.”

  I bit back a full smile. “Excellent choice.”

  I drove us to the mall and Gunnar followed me to the haircut place. Once he was in the chair, I stepped outside and called the hotel. I gave the manager my credit card and told him if I wasn’t there by tomorrow afternoon to get her shit, then he could toss it. I called the hospital next. After several transfers, I was put through to the coroner’s office only to be told I would have to go there to identify myself and the body and fill out paperwork.

  I hung up just as Gunnar got out of the chair. Before I could walk back inside, he’d pulled out the wad of cash he’d taken from my wallet that first night, peeled off a bill, handed it to the lady and walked out to me.

  “Looks good.”

  He’d gotten a short faux hawk. He looked older and from the neck up, he almost looked like a normal kid. From the neck down though, he was a mess. I’d washed his clothes but they were still shit.

  “You wanna get some new clothes while we’re here?” I tried to sound casual because I didn’t want to insult him.

  In what I was beginning to learn was typical Gunnar response, he shrugged.

  “I’m buying.” I didn’t want him to think he’d be on the hook for anything.

  “Okay.”

  I glanced at my watch again. “We got about forty-five minutes before the mall closes. Where do you want to go?” I had no idea where to take him. He was tall for a kid, like I was, but he was so skinny, I couldn’t imagine adult clothes would fit him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What stores do you usually go to?”

  Gunnar shuffled his feet and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “I never shopped in a mall before.”

  I counted to ten. I didn’t want to know where he’d gotten his clothes. I hated her even more. I might have had the shit beaten out of me but I’d always been fed and clothed. “We’ll start at Macy’s.”

  Five pairs of jeans, ten T-shirts and two hoodies later, I felt marginally better. We walked out of the store, each carrying a big bag.

  “Wanna hit the diner on the way home?”

  Gunnar thought a moment before he answered. “I’d rather have a pair of boots.” His voice went quiet. “Like yours.”

  This time, I did smile. “Done. Then the diner. I’m hungry.”

  A ghost of smile touched Gunnar’s face.

  We hustled to another store for the Doc Martens. I told Gunnar to also pick out a wallet and we were on our way to the diner in fifteen minutes. This time he ordered himself, getting the exact same meal as last time with the exception of the Coke. I waited till the waitress left with our orders then brought up the elephant in the room.

  “Do you want to have a funeral?” I’d been thinking about this since Hank’s phone call. I didn’t want to do shit for her but I didn’t know where Gunnar stood. Eleven was probably too young to make this decision but he wasn’t a normal eleven-year-old.

  “No.” He dropped his eyes to his lap.

  Was I supposed to take that at face value? “Gunnar, look at me.”

  When he raised his face, the weight of his first eleven years was back. It made him look years older than a kid should look.

  “I want to do what you want to do. If you want a funeral, that’s cool. We can bury her wherever you want.” I wasn’t going to deny him the opportunity to say goodbye.

  “I don’t want to do anything.” Anger flared his words.

  “Fair enough.” I moved on to the next subject. “I have to get back to my shop tomorrow. I was thinking you could come with me, help me out for a few days, a week, whatever, then when you’re ready, we’ll get you situated in school.” And I’d start on trying to figure out how the hell to become his legal guardian.

  He looked away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He shoved his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

  “Something’s up. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

  He pushed up in his seat, squared his shoulders and looked at me. “Are you going to send me to a foster home?”

  “No.” Hell no. Jesus.

  “So I’m going to live with you?” His voice was bravado but he looked worried as hell.

  “Yeah, is that okay?”

  His shoulders sagged and he nodded just as the waitress dropped off our drinks. I had one more subject to discuss with him and even I didn’t know how to feel about it.

  “Do you want to meet your dad?” For two days I’d studied Gunnar. His eyes, like mine, were hers, but everything else was him. The square jaw line, the straight nose, the blond hair, he looked more like Jep than I did. He even walked like him.

  Gunnar looked up from his shake and even the look of surprise on his face was a carbon copy of our father.

  “I haven’t told him about you yet. I was waiting to ask what you wanted to do.” Part of me wanted to keep Gunnar to myself. I was telling myself I was sheltering him, keeping the shit drama away from him, but I wasn’t. My own prejudices were keeping me from making that call. Gunnar didn’t have a
dad who’d turned a blind eye. He hadn’t had a dad at all. “I was thinking I’d ask him to come have dinner with us tomorrow night.” It was the right thing to do.

  Gunnar swallowed and fear spread across his face.

  Instantly I knew what he was thinking. I pushed down the rage at the fear she’d instilled in him and quickly spoke. “He isn’t like her, he never was. I wouldn’t be asking if you wanted to meet him if I thought for one second that he would harm you. I promised you I won’t let anything bad happen to you and I meant it, Gunnar.”

  He slumped in his seat and let out his breath. “How do you know he’s my dad?”

  “When you see him, you’ll understand.”

  Gunnar raised his eyebrows and I fought a smile. The more time I spent with him, the more I liked him. He never used extra words, he was reserved and skeptical and easy to be around. He was also seriously damaged but I was hoping with time, some of that would heal.

  “You look like him, a lot,” I explained.

  He shrugged by way of consent and our food came. We ate, I told him about the shop and the band and we went home full. He helped me put his new clothes in the wash and we headed to bed. Before he disappeared in his room, I stopped him. I was shit at this kind of thing, but I couldn’t let him go to sleep without acknowledging the fact he wasn’t alone.

  “I know your mom died today. Tomorrow’s going to be a new kind of life for you. I promise, if nothing else, it’ll be easier. I got your back, Gunnar. You’re not alone.”

  And then, because God mocks pricks like me, I got schooled by an eleven-year-old kid who was smarter than I’d ever be.

  “She was your mom too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Introductions

  I got up early, threw Gunnar’s clothes in the dryer, showered then roused him. He didn’t look happy to be awake at 6 a.m. but he didn’t complain. I made coffee then realized I had to slightly alter my morning routine. I doubted Gunnar would be cool with coffee for breakfast. Should he even drink coffee? How old was I when I started drinking coffee? I couldn’t remember.

  I was scrambling eggs when he came into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing some of his new clothes.

  “Grab something to drink out of the fridge.” I plated the eggs and pulled the toast out of the toaster.

  “You cook a lot,” Gunnar mumbled as he reached for the milk.

  “You eat a lot.”

  He slumped into a chair, looking half asleep. “Do you always get up this early?”

  “Yep.” For some reason, I was in a good mood today.

  “Guess I’ll be getting up early too.” He didn’t look happy about it.

  “Good, then you can be in charge of breakfast.” I smiled and Gunnar looked alarmed. “Do you know how to cook?”

  “Not really.” He shoveled in a huge bite of eggs.

  “I’ll teach you. The basics are easy.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  We finished breakfast and headed to the shop. I opened up, then pulled out an old carburetor. I took some tools to a workbench, dumped the carburetor and set up a stool for Gunnar.

  “Here, take this carburetor apart, every single piece, then put it back together. It’s good practice.” My dad had done this to me and by the third one, I started to get it.

  Gunnar looked at me skeptically but didn’t say anything. He sat down and got to work. Another thing I liked about the kid. I put some music on and went to the Camaro. An hour later I knew Gunnar was smarter than me. He’d already disassembled and reassembled the carburetor twice. When he started it a third time I slipped into the office and made the first of two calls I needed to make.

  “Hey, stranger, I’ve missed you.” Her voice warm, I knew Carly’s sweet smile was spread across her face.

  I ached to touch her and it made knowing what I was going to do that much harder. “You busy this morning?”

  She laughed softly. “Good morning to you too, and no, I’m just writing.”

  “Can you come to the shop for an hour?” I asked, my tone all business.

  She paused and when she spoke, some of the warmth in her voice had disappeared. “What time?”

  “Now.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Can you come?”

  “Ah, yeah.”

  I heard shuffling.

  “I’m throwing on clothes and I’ll see you in twenty.”

  I ignored the worry in her voice and hung up without saying goodbye. I dialed my next call. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” my dad replied in his usual brisk manner.

  “Can you come for dinner?”

  Silence.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Dinner?”

  He cleared his throat. “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight? That’s awful short notice, son. I’m six cars backed up and down to two mechanics today. The drive alone is four hours, I’d have to leave here by lunchtime.”

  “Tonight,” I repeated.

  “Tonight.” He sighed.

  “Yeah.” Goddamn it, tonight. He’d better come and meet the son he never knew he had before I changed my mind about telling him. At least until after I’d become his legal guardian. In fact, maybe I should wait.

  “It’s important?”

  Fuck. “It’s dinner.” The most important dinner he’d ever eat.

  “See you by six.” He hung up.

  I stood there a minute, trying to slow my heart rate, praying I was doing the right thing by Gunnar. Right or wrong, the ball was set in motion. I shook it off and went back out to the shop.

  I threw open the rollup of an empty bay so Carly could pull the Rebel inside, then went to see how Gunnar was doing. He was either a natural or he knew his way around tools.

  “Not bad.” I picked up the perfectly assembled carburetor. “You done this before?”

  “No.”

  His hands weren’t even dirty. “Good job. I’ll have you working on cars in no time.”

  He shrugged but he looked as if he liked the compliment. Note to self, more Gunnar compliments. “I’m going to run an errand. A friend of mine is stopping by, her name’s Carly.”

  Gunnar’s body instantly stiffened. “Where are you going?”

  I had two choices. I could lie or I could tell him the truth. Both sucked but since I’d want to know if I were him, I told him the truth. “I have to go to the coroner’s office, fill out some paperwork.”

  “What will they do with her?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “I was going to see if I could donate her body to medical research.”

  Gunnar shrank in on himself.

  “Or we could bury her,” I quickly amended.

  He shoved back from the stool, grabbed the tools and started tossing them in drawers. “I don’t care what happens to her.” His voice and his actions angry, the clanking echoed through the shop.

  I said nothing. I was mesmerized by the fact he was putting everything away exactly where I’d pulled it from. Dumb luck? No way.

  “Burn her and dump her for all I care.” Gunnar kicked the last drawer shut. When it rolled back out, he kicked it again. The cart skewed sideways and half the drawers fell open. A roar of rage broke from his lungs, then his newly booted foot went to town. The cart smashed to the concrete floor, tools went everywhere and Gunnar, arms out, feet flying, kicked the fucking shit out of the tool cart.

  I just stood there.

  There was a horrid beauty to his grief and rage. I knew every single emotion coursing through him. I’d lived it and it’d broken me too. I didn’t stop him. I knew you had to hit that low before you could start clawing your way back up. I wasn’t going to deny Gunnar that. I would never deny him the rage he deserved. So I stood there.

  The first sob broke free and he landed a vicious kick, denting in the side of the cart. His other foot came up and this time, he stomped down with all his weight. The force of
his rage, the rigidity of the cart, he crumpled to the ground.

  Sobbing, he started to chant. “I hate her! I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her.” Hands over his face, he dissolved into a broken eleven-year-old.

  I dropped to my knees and pulled him into my arms.

  “I hate her.” Choking on his tears, he wailed with a pain no child should own.

  “I know.” I tightened my arms. “I hate her too but she gave us each other. We’ve got each other now.”

  My brother curled into a small ball of skin and bones. Shuddering, he dissolved into me and let the tears take over. I hated her more than when she was alive.

  “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” The words weren’t enough but they were all I had.

  I held on to him until the wave passed. I knew it was only the beginning but I hoped to God that having me there for him would make it easier than it had been for me. I wanted to take it all from him but I couldn’t. He’d own his memories his whole life.

  Gunnar inhaled and pushed away from me. Lifting his sweatshirt, he wiped his face and looked at the destroyed tool cart. “I’m sorry about your cart.”

  “I’m not. Glad it was the cart and not me.” I gave him a half smile. “You got a vicious left kick, dude.”

  Gunnar looked horrified then, realizing I was only teasing, a ghost of a smile touched his face. “I like my new boots.”

  I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. Then I couldn’t stop. The harder I laughed, the bigger the smile on Gunnar’s face got. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a quick hug. “Right on, bro, right on. Doc Martens kick ass. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  We’d just finished picking up the tools when Carly showed. Wearing a full-face helmet, leather and gloves, she pulled the Rebel straight into the open bay. Cutting the engine, she took her helmet off and dismounted all in one sexy, fluid motion. Blond hair tumbled around her shoulders, and my heart jumped at the sight of her, except she wasn’t looking at me. Staring at Gunnar curiously, a slow, knowing smile spread across her face.

  “Hey.” I called to get her attention and take some of the heat off Gunnar. His cheeks were burning under her scrutiny.