Finding Nirvana (Black Shamrocks MC, #5)

by Kylie Hillman

  Conan starts speaking again, all the while shooting a glare that could kill in Dad’s general vicinity. “As I was saying, today we are here to say to farewell to two brothers. Two men who should be above ground, not about to be interred in it because of reasons too petty to describe.”

  He screws his nose and sneers in Dad’s direction. “We’re here to send them off surrounding by those who love them.”

  Shoving a beefy hand into the pocket inside his cut, Conan pulls free a tattered piece of paper. “I’ve been trying to find the right words to say, but I couldn’t find any to properly express our sorrow, our disbelief, and our anger that being part of the Black Shamrocks MC has come to this. The death of our own, in a war created by one we thought was our own. Every time I went to see Princess at the hospital we would search for readings. It was impossible to find something that summed up how we felt until one day I saw her and she showed me this poem.”

  Conan holds out a hand to my sister. She shakes her head. “No, I can’t”

  Mad Dog leans down and whispers in her ear. Again she shakes her head.

  Viking nudges me with his shoulder. “Help her. Be the shoulder she needs.”

  That’s twice in one day that he’s stood in the place of my father and offered the wise words that I needed at the perfect moment. I offer him a smile, and reach for Maddi’s hand. “Come on. I’ll go with you.”

  In my pocket burns my own reading. Benji and I share a favourite song from back in High School. We were a pair of sports crazy, metal heads who messed around with electric guitars and liked to pretend that we could hold a note when they weren’t busy carving up the local footy field. I now realise that the song is a one of the defining moments of our transition from boy to man. Benji was in his last year and I had just left to start my carpentry apprenticeship when Jimmy “The Rev” Sullivan from Avenged Sevenfold died. Apart from our mum dying when we were little, this was our first brush with death. The song commemorating his death came out a few months later and really hit home

  Two days ago, the words to the chorus started echoing in my skull, and refused to leave me alone. It took me a little while to remember the full lyrics, but I had. Once they were in my head, the urge to get out my long abandoned acoustic guitar and play the acoustic version had become overwhelming. I hadn’t touched it since my hands were damaged, but someone—Maddi, most likely—had made sure that my acoustic and electric guitars were moved into my room and stored in the top of my closet.

  Pulling it down and finding that I could actually still create a decent sound with remaining fingers and leftover stumps had felt like a major accomplishment. I’d played the song all the way through twice, singing the words with increasing emotion, before the feelings of shame had hit me. Benji was always on my case to try to play with him, but I wouldn’t hear about it—certain that I was too damaged.

  Now he’s dead, and I wasted all that time that I could have spent playing with him.

  Maddi hiccups next to me, dragging me out of my pity party. She threads her fingers through mine, and once for once, I’m not the one who’s shaking. I squeeze her hand, not easing the pressure while we walk together to Conan. He passes Maddi the sheet of paper.

  In a quavering voice, tears flowing, she addresses the assembled mourners.

  “Not how did he die, but how did he live.

  Not what did he gain, but what did he give.

  These are the units to measure the worth

  Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.”

  When she pauses, I push my hand into the pocket of my black pants and pull out the sheet of lyrics. I can’t play it, but I will share the words with everyone else. They might bring them some relief as well. As I’m unfolding it, Maddi speaks once more. “My brother wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes and he hurt us when he made them. But, one thing he never did was abandon his family. Every time he messed up, he found a way to apologise. He went out of his way to right his wrongs. Even in his last moment on earth, he was making sure that he had our backs. That there is the measure of the man that he was. Is.”

  My sister stops again. She stares pointedly at our father and then at Uncle Butch. “Sam was our cousin by blood. Through love, he was another brother. I picked on him all the time and he let me. It didn’t matter what I said to him.” Maddi turns to me with a small smile on her face. “It didn’t matter what any of us did to him, he was always there. His loyalty never wavered. Like Benji, he spent the final minutes of his life looking out for us. Both men died trying to protect this Club. They sacrificed their lives so that others could live. That’s the definition of a true hero and that’s how they should be remembered.”

  This time Maddi doesn’t just look in Dad’s direction, she openly points at him. “Revenge is a horrible thing to live your life around. Too much has been done to this Club under the pretence of getting revenge. But, in this case, we must make an exception. Revenge is the order of the day until the deaths of my brother and my cousin have been atoned for by the people who caused it. Normally, I would be the person calling for calm. This time, I’m the person pointing the finger.”

  She drags in a deep breath, then extends her arm further until it seems like she’s trying to touch him. “The man responsible for it all had the guts to join us today while we mourn our loss. Let’s see if he has the same guts when he’s the one being hunted, the one being used as a pawn in this game that he created? I doubt it.”

  Complete silence has fallen, everyone hanging on to her words, and I don’t know whether to stop her tirade or start clapping. Every word she says is a copy of what’s engraved on my heart, and a quick glance around the rest of the crowd, tells me that they all agree.

  Maddi steps around me and turns sideways. The tiny bump that I felt when I hugged her this morning is shown in all its glory when she lifts her shirt. My eyebrows pull together at her actions—everyone already knows she’s pregnant. It’s not a secret.

  Except to the one person who yells, “NO!”

  Dad lets go of Wendy’s hand and charges for my sister, unheeding of the people in his way.

  “You little slut,” he bellows when the men closest grab him before he reaches her. Timber punches him in the gut when he goes to say something else. It winds him, leaving my father impersonating a goldfish. Mouth opens. Mouth closes.

  “That’s nice, Daddy,” Maddi mocks him. She puts her hands on her hips and laughs. “Since I was raised as a ‘go hard or go home’ type of girl, I’m polluting your bloodline with twins. Imagine that. Two baby’s with O’Brien and Kennedy blood flowing through their veins. It’s your worst nightmare come to life.”

  “I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Multiple guns are pulled free and pointed in his direction. Mad Dog steps into dad’s space and presses his handgun in the same spot as where the bullet that killed Benji entered. “Try it, old man. See how far you get.”

  My father doesn’t move. Hell, he doesn’t even blink in acknowledgement of Mad Dog’s threat. Instead, a smirk curls his lips. “Do it. I dare you.”

  I brace for the shot—to see my dad’s brains explode from the back of his head. It doesn’t come. Mad Dog just laughs, pulling his gun from Dad’s forehead and twirling it around his finger. He shoves it down the back of his jeans. “Not today.”

  He points at the gate that leads on to the road. “Get rid of him. His welcome just expired.”

  Dad is dragged away, without mounting a protest. Turning to Wendy, Mad Dog softens his features. “You’re more than welcome to stay. But, you need to choose. Us or him?”

  “If I leave him, he’ll have no one.”

  “That’s what’s he deserves.”

  My step-mum nods, then starts down the path my father was just dragged down. Timber passes her on his way back into the graveyard. He hugs her and then lets her go.

  “You’re always welcome to come back, Wendy. The door will never close.” All he receives in response is another sad nod. He shrugs, then turns to us al
l. “Forget about Beast. He can rot in Hell. We have our brothers to bury.”

  Mad Dog gives him a fist bump when he walks past him so he can stand behind JJ, then waves the crowd back into their original positons. Maddi retakes her seat, but I stay standing with Conan. He holds his hand, palm up, giving me the go-ahead to speak.

  “The other day the words to mine and Benji’s favourite song when we were teens started bouncing around my head. I’ve been carrying them around with me ever since. It’s given me some clarity and, if I’m honest, something to hold on to.”

  I put the sheet of paper between my lips and shake out my hands. Taking hold of it, I peer down at the words that sum up my feelings about the loss of my brother. After running my eyes over them for a moment, I carefully fold it and then lean down to lay the page on top of Benji’s casket.

  “Here.”

  Mama C’s approach startles me. In her hand is my guitar case. My mouth drops open. I’m sure I look like an escaped mental patient. My mind goes blank, except for two questions.

  What does she expect me to do with my guitar?

  Why the hell is she smiling at me like I’m about to make her day?

  “Joel.” Now, she sounds annoyed. Titters of laughter begin to make their way through the crowd. “We heard you the other day. Do this for Benji and Smoke. Send them off with your voice in their ears.”

  It’s on the top of my tongue to tell her that they’re dead; neither of them can hear a damn thing. However, deep down—or, not so deep, if I’m telling the truth—I know what she means. I close my eyes, pull in a deep breath through my nose and hold it in my lungs. Tilting my head back, I let the summer sun heat my face. Tears threaten, making my nose tingle and my eyes itch.

  “Fucking hell.” I yell to the universe. “This isn’t fair.”

  Shouts of “aye” follow my outburst, making me regain my senses and remember that I’m standing in front of my family and friends on the verge of a breakdown. I take my guitar case, pop the locks, and pull it free. The smooth black wood gleams in the sun, the neck filling my hand. As much as I don’t want to do this, I want to, all at once.

  After a quick strum, I blow let out a sigh and begin. The first notes bring back too many memories for me to bear, so I shut down my mind and, simply my fingers do their thing. I know my playing isn’t what it used to be—that doesn’t stop the sense of déjà vu from overcoming me.

  Why the hell am I letting my limitations stop me from doing the things that I love?

  How come it had to take the death of my brother to knock some sense into me?

  Obviously, I’m not as wise as I think I am.

  It takes me the entire intro to work up the courage to open my mouth and let out the words that have been my companion and comfort since they came crashing back into my head. Singing the lyrics feels like letting everyone have a glimpse inside my heart, but I push away my qualms, close my eyes, and let my devastation be known.

  “Never feared for anything

  Never shamed but never free

  A life to heal the broken heart with all that it could

  Lived a life so endlessly

  Saw beyond what others see

  I tried to heal your broken heart with all that I could

  Will you stay?

  Will you stay away forever?”

  The first verse is hard. By the second, I’ve found my rhythm—vocally and musically. As I’m gearing up to launch into the chorus, an arm slides around my waist and two hands land on my shoulders. Opening my eyes, I lose my place and skip a couple chords. Matty and Lachie are standing on either side of me. Maddi is beside me.

  I regain the tempo, replaying a few chords until the cue to launch into the chorus comes around again. As I sing, my three remaining siblings join me, adding backing vocals and extra depth to the emotions contained within the words.

  “How do I live without the ones I love?

  Time still turns the pages of the book it's burned

  Place and time always on my mind

  I have so much to say but you're so far away”

  After the chorus, their voices die off. They let me handle the verses, joining me for the chorus and adding harmony where it’s required. It blows my mind that they remember the words to the song—until I recall the many months that Benji and I were obsessed with the song, playing it over and over until we were sick of it.

  “Plans of what our futures hold

  Foolish lies of growing old

  It seems we're so invincible

  The truth is so cold

  A final song, a last request

  A perfect chapter laid to rest

  Now and then I try to find

  A place in my mind

  Where you can stay

  You can stay away forever

  How do I live without the ones I love?

  Time still turns the pages of the book it's burned

  Place and time always on my mind

  I have so much to say but you're so far away”

  At the end of the second rendition of the chorus, a laugh breaks free. If Benji was here, he’d be amused at the sight of us four serenading him. It’d be too much emotion for him to handle. He’d turn it into a joke, but it’d be clear on his face just how much it meant to him. Maddi squeezes my waist when I laugh again. I look at her and see that she’s smiling, apparently lost in similar thoughts. We exchange a nod, in agreement that we’re going to knock the rest of the song out of the park.

  “Sleep tight, I'm not afraid (not afraid)

  The ones that we love are here with me

  Lay away a place for me (place for me)

  'Cause as soon as I'm done I'll be on my way

  To live eternally

  How do I live without the ones I love?

  Time still turns the pages of the book it's burned

  Place and time always on my mind

  And the light you left remains but it's so hard to stay

  When I have so much to say and you're so far away

  I love you, you were ready

  The pain is strong and urges rise

  But I'll see you, when He lets me

  Your pain is gone, your hands untied

  So far away (so far)

  And I need you to know

  So far away (so far)

  And I need you to, need you to know.”

  My little brother’s voices replace mine for the final stanza, singing in perfect harmony with Maddi’s lilting tone. While my fingers continue to move, maintaining the acoustics of the song, I can’t sing anymore. Not through the tears that run down my face unheeded.

  The song finishes. My fingers giving up the second it’s done. Matty grabs my guitar before I drop it and I spare one more glance in the direction of the casket holding my brother.

  “Love you, bro.”

  With those words, I am done. Wrung dry and unable to deal with another thing. I head for my seat, collapsing in it. Viking pats my knee, then leaves his hand there. Strangely, it brings some peace and settles my wildly spinning mind enough to concentrate on the remainder of the service.

  Conan retakes his place between the caskets. He asks Mad Dog and Uncle Butch to step forward. They do, both with pale faces devoid of expression. My uncle settles himself on his knees next to Smokes casket. Mad Dog does the same next to Benji’s. They take hold of the crank handle on the lowering device, slowly turning it as Conan begins reciting the committal.

  “Into the darkness and warmth of the earth.”

  We all respond as one, answering Conan sentence for sentence, “We lay you down.”

  “Into the sadness and smiles of our memories.”

  “We lay you down.”

  “Into the cycle of living and dying and rising again.”

  “We lay you down.”

  “May you rest in peace, in fulfilment, in loving. May you run straight home in God's embrace.”

  As he finishes, I cross myself. “Amen.”

  Both caskets are ou
t of sight. Having reached my limit, I skip the ritual of throwing a handful of dirt into the holes that they’ve disappeared into. I don’t need my final memory of today to be the vision of my brother and cousin six-feet under. Instead, I ignore my jelly legs and head for the parking lot.

  “Hey, Joel, wait up?” Mad Dog calls out to me from the receiving line that he’s managed to find himself manning with Maddi and Uncle Butch. “Walk Dad back to the van for me?”

  My initial inclination is to shake my head. I stop myself when I spy the white-lipped exhaustion on Vikings face. I might be all-sorts of messed up, but he’s dying. My need to escape can take a backseat for the moment.

  Plus, I won’t look like such a coward if it looks like I’m being useful; not running away.

  Backtracking, I take hold of Viking’s arm and help him out of the cemetery. I don’t know how much assistance I’m actually giving him, he seems to be pretty steady on his feet, compared to me, McCripple McGee, who’s about ready to face plant from emotional and physical overload.

  “Thanks for that.” Viking sounds breathless when he speaks once I’ve settled him into the back of the van and taken a seat next to him. When he starts coughing, I look around for his oxygen tank. Finding it, I attempt to slip the nasal thingy that he usually wears over his head. My hands have called it a day; being non-cooperative and making me drop it.

  Viking grabs it and slides it over his head on the first go. My typical feelings of uselessness and ineptitude return; although, I know that I shouldn’t really complain. As days that you bury your brother go, I guess mine has been successful. I rode Benji’s bike and I played guitar for him without making a complete idiot out of myself.

  “Tough day, hey?”

  “You could say that,” I respond, slowly, with obvious reluctance in my voice. Looking out the window, I try to see if anyone else is leaving yet. I’m not keen on having an awkward chat with my father’s ex-best friend. I mean, what are we going to discuss? The day Dad had he’s son arrested for a murder he didn’t commit? Or, that time Dad carved a death threat into his son’s back?

  He draws in a noisy breath of air, coughing a little afterward. “That was some good guitar you played. Bet you’re glad that your fingers can handle the strings still?”