Resistance

by K Larsen

  “Sawyer,

  Sometimes lying in this sterile, cold dorm room makes me crazy. I know it’s temporary. I know I volunteered for this. Writing to you seems to help calm me. I’m not sure you even want to know the details that I have to share with you but I’m going to write them to you anyways.

  We were talking about reality versus...well, not reality. Like movies. It got me thinking. I’ve had all these moments, movie moments—grenades, guns, the dramatic death of the love interest. It sucks. I want the movie moment where the girl finally gets the guy. The one where the music takes over, and they stare into each other’s eyes and just know they finally have each other. You know like when Samantha Baker finally sees Jake in Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for her. I want that movie moment. I guess that’s ridiculous considering life doesn’t have a soundtrack. Or, that the entire point of talking about it was that movie moments and reality don’t line up. That in reality people don’t just bounce back. That it takes work. That feelings have to be dealt with. SUCKS.

  The ache in my chest hasn’t gone away. I wanted Ezra dead. I feel no remorse for killing him. That sounds terrible I know. I know it’s natural on some level to feel that way. He violated me. He killed his nephew, my first love, my first everything. But yet, normal people don’t act on that hate. They seek justice but not revenge. They don’t execute. I did. I wanted it to be over. But, it’s not, is it? It never will be because I hold on to it all. I need to purge it all. Talk it out, I guess. I’m rambling. The therapist said that writing things down would be cathartic. I guess it is, but I don’t think she intended me to write them down for someone else to read. Thing is, what’s the point of writing it all down for myself? I already know it. I live it. Seeing the words on paper doesn’t help what I already know. Maybe, though, maybe it will help you to understand me. I can hope. Can you believe there is NO DESSERT here? Like, any. At. ALL. Some bullshit about sugar, caffeine yada yada, your moods, brain function. It’s CRAP.

  I keep having the moments. Usually in group therapy (it’s wicked boring sometimes), little snippets of memories. They shine so brightly, though. Little slivers of happiness. Group stops and the leader always asks, ‘why are you smiling?’ Every time my answer is the same, ‘I was thinking about Sawyer.’

  Truth time:

  I remember thinking I wanted to make you smile the first time we met at the bar. I hadn’t wanted that for anything or anyone in a long time.

  xx-Pepper”

  My heart feels so light. Her open candor, quick wit, and truths bleeding out on the page actually raise my spirits. Smiling to myself, I know exactly what I need to do. I set out straight away to put a plan into action.

  Chapter 35

  Letters

  Day twenty. I’ve grown mildly used to my days being Pepper-free. The mailbox has never held such appeal before, though the days that there is nothing from her waiting for me are hard to swallow. My disappointment is crushing some days. It’s amazing how in the span of just months someone can grow to be such a fixture in your life, no matter how small or large their presence is.

  To my utter surprise, Greta stopped by earlier this week. She’d stayed for thirty minutes. It was slightly tense between us. She’s really not a people-person by nature. She’d wanted to check in on me and to let me know that she’d be gone for work when Pepper came home. She’d handed me a sealed envelope and asked if she could really trust me to get it to Pepper. It was strange to say the least. Of course I would. I wouldn't be an asshole and open it either. I’d told her that too and she’d laughed at me and shook her head, as if I was the one being ridiculous.

  The mailbox is stacked with bills when I pull the door open. Taking the stack out, I sift through it as I walk into the house. I toss all the crap on the floor at the front door, kick of my shoes, flip a light on, and tear into the letter I’ve been anticipating.

  “Sawyer,

  Confidence in myself. I’m discussing it at length. Shoot. Me. Now. Please.

  I know rationally that all the things that have happened aren’t my fault as a person. I know I acted on instinct. I did what I thought was right in the moment.

  Fight or flight and all that shit.

  Still, I harbor this secret insecurity that if anyone is close to me they’ll get dragged down. That the choices I’ve made, the person I became after I was violated, after I pulled the trigger the first time, they are consequences for those that I let in. Bad ones. I’m going to try and see what you see, what you said you saw in me, in myself. I know that I will find that place again, the one where I wear a smile, naturally, instead of indifference. I know I’ll feel joy more than sorrow and regret. I’m trying. I’m trying to get there. You deserve nothing less from someone, but I’m not doing this for you.

  That wouldn’t work. I have to do it for me. Holding onto resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Ironic really, because it’s so easy to let resentment grip you. Hold you hostage and dictate your life.

  It has to come from that place deep inside me that is fractured right now. I have to piece it together like a puzzle and glue it and let it set to dry. Then, then I can be. I’ll be deserving of someone like you AND I’ll be able to give myself. I know you’re probably upset that I’ve let Clara visit weekly. It’s strange actually. I like her company. She understands my feelings without me having to speak them out loud. It’s refreshing actually. It’s not a reflection of whether or not I care about you. I want you to know that. I just need to get my world straight before I let you in it all the way. You deserve that.

  Truth time:

  My mom died giving birth to me. It was just me and my dad until he remarried a few years later. I was so little I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t in our lives, my stepmom that is. I’ve been feeling very sad that I had to leave them behind. That they think I’m dead. That they grieve. That guilt eats at me.

  xx-Pepper

  I’m stunned. Clara’s been visiting her. Anger bubbles in my gut. She’s let Clara visit. Why not me? I take deep breaths. I know there is a reason behind her choices. I’m not seeing what her plan is, but Clara wouldn’t hide something bad from me. I have confidence that Pepper’s doing her best. Making the best choices she knows how.

  I need to let it go. I feel like a whiny child. I’m hurt. I’m dying to see her. Hold her. Kiss her. That’s all it is. It’s my own childish insecurities. My brain moves on to other elements she’s shared.

  Her mother died during birth? How awful. It sounds like she had a nice childhood, though. But on top of all the traumatic events she’s been through, to have the stability of family ripped away? It’s got to hurt deeply. I’m beginning to think maybe a single month isn’t enough time at all for Pepper to heal the way she says she wants to. There are so many traumas. So many emotional levels to peel back, expose, and work through.

  Chapter 36

  Week 4

  Allie has jumped into the school year with both drive and enthusiasm. Her nightly homework this year is blowing my mind. I absolutely do not remember my homework being so in-depth and difficult. She’s thriving, though. It’s good to see. Clara brought the lawyer’s paperwork for legal adoption into the shop yesterday. It’d had felt unsettling to sign my name on the affidavits attached to the packet. I know it’s for my benefit. To maintain my role in Allie’s life. I wasn’t signing away consent since I have no legal right to her anyways. Still, though, it left me feeling down and out. I’d asked Clara about her visits with Pepper because I was curious. It was nice to hear her say that she looks well. That she’s finding her way, herself. Clara wouldn't divulge anything outside of that, though. She said she didn’t want to break Pepper’s trust, but that I needed to trust her and Pepper both. It let me breathe easier if only for the day.

  Today is day twenty-seven since Pepper’s been away. I’ve found myself getting into this absurd routine of running home from work and checking the mail. I want more letters. I’m starting to wonder if m
aybe she’s not going to write any more. It’s strange, in today’s world no one writes letters anymore. The constant access to instant contact makes mailing a letter a moot point. In the absence of her texts and, well, her physical presence, the letters she sent seem so much more poignant. She took the time to handwrite something. To address it. To stamp it and mail it. It travelled through many hands before reaching me. In a way, it seems romantic and nostalgic, even if the content isn't necessarily the most upbeat. The sound of silence is something I can’t take anymore. Nobody ringing my phone now; I never thought I’d miss such a beautiful sound. There’s nothing to hold but the memories we’ve made. I cannot wait for Pepper to come back.

  I’d left the shop early to attend the MC’s charity event. Dominic donated a large sum of money from his business to help get things going. We’re trying to raise awareness and fund the music and arts programs in the local schools. Many of us have children in the schools and after watching the chorus disappear, then some art classes, and now that there is threat of the orchestra being cut, we’d stepped up and offered to host a community event to raise enough money to fund the programs. Clara was over the moon about it and of course sat down with a lot of the school board members and other old ladies from the club and created a fantastic event. All the proceeds from our fair day will go to the school system.

  Hoot sits on a seat in the dunk tank.

  He’d only agreed to do it if the tank was housed inside since the weather isn’t exactly warm out. Beau is running a dart booth where you try and pop balloons. Clara has kids singing and the orchestra playing at different ends of the hall to provide music. It’s all come together in the most amazing way. There are tables lined with baked goods, a bounce house just outside the door, and people are milling about in droves, dropping money at the various games and food stands. It’s definitely a hit. I smile to myself, taking it all in. I watch as a little boy cranks his arm back and hurls a ball at the target. Hoot screams like a little bitch as he drops into the water. I chuckle to myself as his head emerges and he shakes off like a wet dog, scowling at the little boy.

  This is good for the club. The community will see our name attached to this and hopefully be put at ease about having an unruly motorcycle club in its town. Carmine was found three days ago an hour south of Baltimore. Kylie had been driving; he’d told her he wanted to take her away for a vacation. Bentley had gotten through on her cell and she’d aided in delaying him from his final destination. I didn’t get any more information than that but it was enough. He’s trapped with Bentley and crew for questioning. That’s all that matters. Pepper, for now, is safe.

  “Hey stud,” Clara says breathlessly while bumping my shoulder.

  “Hi there.” I give a return bump and a wink, which makes her cringe. Her complete aversion to winking never gets old.

  “Can you bring Allie home with you tonight? I need to stay late to help clean all this up and break down everything.”

  “Of course.” I smile down at her. This week she’s sporting a pastel purple streak in her hair. I actually like it. “This went off really well. Any idea how much we raised?”

  “A little over thirty thousand by the last count,” she answers excitedly. “That’s enough to fund all the programs we want for the next school year!” I pull her into a sideways hug and kiss the top of her head.

  “That’s amazing. This event was amazing, thanks for helping to pull it all together without a hitch,” I say sincerely.

  “Anything for a cause close to my heart. You know that. Now go round up the kid, she’s going to be a total jerk tomorrow if she doesn’t get some sleep.”

  “Aye aye, captain.” I salute Clara and go on the hunt for my Alliecat.

  Chapter 37

  Good Deeds Done Daily

  Allie had so much sugar and excitement pumping through her that it took twice as long as normal to get the kid to just lay the hell down and go to sleep. I’d reached my critical patience-almost-extinct point by the time the house was finally quiet. Most of this had to do with the fact that when Allie had brought the mail in when we got home, there was a letter from Pepper. I’d wanted to tear into it right then, but given the tone of her other letters, I didn't think it was a good idea to read it with Allie milling about. She’d no doubt want to be able to read it and that wasn't happening.

  I listen for a moment to make sure there are no last minute sounds from Allie’s room. No more bathroom requests, water demands or “I can’t sleep” complaints. Hearing nothing, I sit at the kitchen bar top and rip into the envelope.

  “Sawyer,

  I feel like my letters have been choppy and out of order. I’m sorry if they’ve concerned you. This whole experience has been really intense and I found it easy to just write down whatever popped into my mind.

  Your voice was the only sound I heard some days. You got under my skin. You kissed my scars. You held my hand. You proved your worth. You were a friend. You were steady, just...there. You let me cry. You let me be me, even if that version of me was awful. You kissed me with passion. You held me when I needed holding.

  I made myself unlovable, yet you tried. You saw beyond that. I knew I’d fall for you if I let my guard down. I didn’t want to burden you with that. With me. And, maybe you wouldn’t fall with me. My heart’s so fractured that if it breaks one. more. time. I’m done. Ruined. That scares the ever living shit out of me.

  It’s not right, though. I need to prove myself to you. I need to give you a reason to want me. A real reason. I need to show you…and myself…that I’m worth loving, because I haven’t, not really. I haven’t let you know me. I’ve given you a version of myself that I thought would put you off me because I was put off by myself. I hope it’s not too late. I want to show you kiss by kiss, smile by smile, truth by truth, that I’m worthy of you, of love. Worthy of what you’ve given to me by not giving up on me.

  I’ll be home next week. I’m nervous. I’m excited. I’m unsure how things will go. It’s unsettling, actually. Clara laughed when I told her all this. Said, ‘it’s natural, buck up.’ How did you live with her for so many years?! I love her to death but I’m not sure I could live with her. She and Dominic have been wonderful, though. I should get my phone back when I check out on Friday. If you’re up for seeing me, text me so I know when and where.

  Have you had enough truths yet?

  xx-Pepper”

  I immediately grab my phone from the coffee table in the living room. My thumbs fly across the screen, typing out my response to her.

  “Your house. 7pm. Friday night.

  PS. there are never enough truths.”

  My grin is enormous. It hurts my cheeks. My breathing is rapid with excitement. Two full days and I get to see her gorgeous face again. How the hell am I going to wait out forty-eight hours sanely?

  Chapter 38

  Unite

  Friday morning rolls in the same as any other day, except today I see Pepper. It’s ten a.m. I slept like crap last night. The anticipation of having her physically near me again made every muscle in my body tense up and my brain race. I groan and pull the blankets over my head, wishing for a solid hour of sleep.

  Thirty minutes later I’m stalking down to the kitchen to put some coffee on for myself.

  “Ughhhhhhh, suck,” I grumble. I’m out of coffee. While I contemplate my options, my phone vibrates from its charging port. A new text message from Pepper five hours ago.

  “Mornin’ handsome”

  FIVE hours ago! It was only ten thirty, who gets up at five a.m.?! I fire off a return message.

  “Up with the sun, I see. Morning. Whether it’s good or not is yet to be determined.”

  My phone vibrates again.

  “Whattsamatta?”

  “Outta coffee, and no sleep.”

  I responded first, then scoured my pantry for old coffee. I can’t have really run out. I grab my phone, which is currently vibrating, and shove my bare feet into sandals before tugging on a hoodie.

>   “I was too excited to sleep too. Hence 5 am.”

  Her message puts a wide, toothy grin on my face as I climb into the truck. It’s freaking freezing outside. We better not have an early winter. I hate winter. The sky is overcast and gray. There is a bitter chill in the air. If we’re getting rain, I need to remember to put the bike in the garage when I get back. I type out a quick response to Pepper letting her know that I’m excited to see her too and head out in search of caffeine.

  By the time I get back to the house it’s nearly one p.m. and the sky is almost black with impending doom. A storm warning has been issued for our county. A freak snow storm. It’s like Mother Nature’s personal “fuck you” to me. I decided to pack an overnight bag and head to Pepper’s house early and wait for her. I don’t want the threat of snow to ruin my chances of seeing her. I’m not a hundred percent sure she will want me there before her, but I’m willing to take the gamble. My phone buzzes from the mattress.

  “Call me ASAP.”

  Pepper. I dial her number and wait.

  “Hi,” she answers on the first ring. Her voice sounds calm and light. I’ve wanted to hear it for so long that I almost forget to respond.

  “Pepper? What's up? Are you alright?” I ask concerned.