by Unknown
Ya know, Mace warned me about her being extra chipper early in the morning, but this cannot last. I am not necessarily a morning person and I know that Mace Cash is most definitely not. I’m going to sit back and let her handle this one. I believe Peyton has assumed I’m going to be her partner when dealing with morning Mace. No way.
“No. Peyton, did you forget your rulebook at home this morning, missy? It’s still before noon and just because you think you have someone else here to back you now, you don’t get to start your ‘cheery cheerleader’ routine so early in the morning. Rules, girlfriend, rules.”
Thatta girl, Mace. Get her.
Mace is still pointing to the imaginary watch on her wrist referring to the time, making Peyton frown. It’s not a real frown, but it still makes you feel bad about bringing her down from excitement so early in the morning. For someone that had a rough introduction to her teenage years, she’s bounced back with fervor.
“I’m sorry, Mace. Unsure how I can forget that the whole world can’t wake up and be happy until you are. You would think after all this time of working together you could just let me have this one. Never mind. You’re such an old bitty.”
Peyton smiles directly at me and winks right before she goes in for another Mace verbal knocking.
“Oh, no, Mace, wait. Will Ryder not be allowed to smile until noon either? Maybe Auntie Peyton needs to be sure to come visit him on the weekends and verify you aren’t being crabby to him during his morning cartoons. Will Bugs Bunny get muted after too many ‘What up, Doc’s?’ Poor little Ryder, I can see his tragic youth playing out before my eyes already.”
Not too dramatic at all, Peyton.
Mace just sighs and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. He’s my son. You already know he won’t wake up rationally until at least ten o’clock every morning. Nothing you can threaten me with that will bother me enough to stop you from blabbering. Now, if we are done with your morning antics, we’re out of here. We’re going to an early lunch first before we go home. I will be back to work on Monday. Have a good weekend, stay out of trouble and give that sexy cowboy a hug from me.”
Peyton mockingly salutes her and Mace flips her off as we walk out the front door. Maybe this is where I should spend more time. They do seem to have fun with each other, even if it’s at each other’s expense.
On the way to lunch I take note that Mace is being dreadfully quiet. It’s almost noon, we don’t have the kids and it’s a beautiful, unclouded spring day, but her mood is completely off.
“What’s up, Mace? You’re over thinking something. Tell me what it is.” She’s gonna lie, I sing to myself in thought.
“Nothing, honey. It’s nothing. I’m tired is all.”
Yep, she’s lying. Called it. I know my best friend that well. When she lies she never looks directly at me. Even though she’s driving, I know she’s paying too much attention to the road.
“You’re bullshitting me, Mace Cash. Out with it. What is it you are keeping from me? Tell me, please. If you’re protecting me from something again, I’ve already told you, I need you to stop treating me like I’m going to break. You’re not helping me by shutting me out when I ask about things outside of my sadness.”
She sighs heavily and moves her hair behind her ears with her eyes still on the road. “Shame got a call from Ace and I was debating on telling you.”
Oh my God. My heart skipped a beat and I’m suddenly interested. I’ve missed him so damn much.
“What? When? When did he call Shame? Where is he? Is he okay? Oh my God, Mace. I haven’t seen or heard a word from him since he left the night Hem…” I can’t finish the thought.
I still have those moments when I remember something and the memory grabs a hold of me from nowhere and I choke mid-sentence. Mace and Shame recognize this when it happens. They have seen it many times and they no longer question me during my attempts to gather myself. I’ve always been thankful to them for that.
“I know, Sade. He left and never looked back. Supposedly though, he just found out about everything that happened that night with Hem. I guess he still has some contacts around here. He told Shame he feels bad it’s been so long since he called anyone at the club, but none the less, he didn’t act as if coming back was something he was considering.”
“Well, where is he? Where has he been?” I don’t let her answer before adding in softly, “I’ve missed him a lot, Mace. I really have.”
She turns her head from the road and looks at me in surprise. Did she really think I haven’t missed him? He was my friend. I haven’t been so consumed in my grief to realize my life feels lacking without him in it.
“He’s in California. When he left here, he went directly there and that’s where he stayed. He only called to give his condolences to Shame and the brothers. He’s not coming back, Sadey. Whatever Ace was looking for, he didn’t find here, so he’s gone. I’m sorry if that disappointments you. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She’s starting to piss me off with her dismissive statements about Ace.
“Damn it, I appreciate you trusting me with this, but you still haven’t answered all my questions. When did he call? Is he going to be calling again? I want to talk to him, Mace. I hated that he left; hated how he left. He didn’t tell me goodbye. Hell, he didn’t tell anyone goodbye. He just walked out on his whole life here.”
We sit at the stop light closest to the restaurant. She has more to say and I’m pressed for time because once she gets me home, she won’t talk to me about this again. That’s how Mace works. She will just let it go and if I bring it up to her she will shut me down.
“You have to know I wasn’t sure to even tell you this much, honey. I know you miss him. I’ve just been struggling with you because you haven’t made much headway since...”
“What the hell? That isn’t your business, damn it.”
Screw that, she doesn’t get it. “Yes, there are reasons for my lack of progress. How about living your whole life loving someone and then that person is gone, Mace. He’s gone and I don’t really think he’s coming back, do you?”
I’m throwing my hands and arms all over the place in her small car. I haven’t had any luck trying to tell her calmly that I’m aware of my lack of healing, so maybe if I just scare the shit out of her with my whirling gestures, she will shut up and leave me alone.
“Yes, it has been six months since he left, but to me, it’s like it just happened. I don’t know what to do to make the pain stop, other than wait it out.”
My eyes moisten and she knows how much I’m hurting and she just continues to press me, as always.
“Are you still hearing Hem at night?”
Well fuck, if that knife doesn’t continue to twist in her hand. Is she kidding me right now? Actually a knife to the throat would hurt less than her misunderstanding what I’m feeling.
“Jesus, just take me home. I’m not hungry anymore. I can’t talk to you. Are you seriously trying to break me today with this? I mean honestly, Mace? You know damn well I still hear him. When I sleep, I feel close to him. I find peace there. It gives me time to feel the things I don’t feel any more when I’m walking among the living. Damn it, do you think this feels good to me? How did we get here, friend? I wanted to hear about Ace and you bring all this shit up and throw it at me, yet again.”
I grab my bag from the floorboard hastily, daring her to speak again. I start to flip through my phone so she knows I’m done listening to anything she has to say. She’s my best friend, and although I know she’s only got my best interest at heart, I am sick to death with all of it.
No more words are spoken during the short distance we have en route to the house. She’s accepted that I have no intentions of lunching together, sharing small talk, while wanting to scratch her eyes out.
When we pull up I can see Shame’s truck in my driveway. Wonderful. Another task on my never-ending to do list. I get to deal with Shame Carrick one on one.
Damn.
Chapter Two
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
- Ernest Hemingway
When I walk into the house I don’t see April, but what I find instead figuratively pulls the rest of my heart from my chest. Shame is lying on his back on my living room floor and he has Patrick nestled on top of his chest as my son naps. Shame doesn’t know I’m standing there watching them yet, so I wait this out like a bad movie that no one can get up from because they have to see the ending. In his large tattooed arms, he’s cradling my son as his father would, if he were here. No harm will ever come to Patrick or me because of Shame, not Hem. As if I don’t already have enough reminders.
“Teach him of his name and tell him that it was born from a brotherhood, a bond, and a family.”
“I hear you. I always hear you, but it doesn’t help my heart from breaking as I look down at what’s in front of me.” Oy, I’m answering my imagination now?
Shame must have heard my very personal, imaginary and ludicrous conversation with myself. “Sadey, you’re back already?”
Tears are overflowing in my eyes and falling down my face one at a time. I’m pulled from my nightmare as soon as Shame calls out for me to come to him, again.
“Sadey, did you hear me? Come get Patrick. He just fell asleep and he needs to go in his crib or I can put him in his bassinette.”
I walk past them both without another look and head down the hallway to my room. I hear Shame call my name again quietly before I shut my door and fall face first into my bed as I bury my head in my hands. I’m trying to hide from everyone around me.
It’s been about a half hour since I left them in the living room. I know Mace drove away as soon as I left her sitting in her car, slamming my door without so much as a goodbye. I’ve somewhat collected myself now, yet have no desire to walk out there and see Patrick and Shame sharing a moment that should be saved for a father and his son.
“Sadey, you alright?” Shame is standing on the other side of my closed bedroom door.
Damn, can’t escape him any longer. He’s coming in here regardless if I ask him to leave or not. Shame doesn’t give a choice when he wants something, so I am going to just play along in hopes he quickly leaves. I’ve been through enough of these little chats to know that if I nod my head and tightly smile, the person lecturing will have their say and then leave.
“Just open the door and come in, Shame.”
Putting on a mask of indifference, I’m braced for his blunt, badass pep talk that is no surprise in coming. So I sit up in my bed and move to lean my back against the headboard. My feet crossed in front of me, I’m sure Shame is coming to deliver my son as well, so I brace for that too, he’s a squirmy little bundle.
Shame has zero patience left for my continued mourning. I’m sorry for that, but I don’t know how to come back from this any faster than I am. Someone please give me a book that tells you how to mend your heart after such a loss and I will read it cover to cover. I’m good with written instruction.
As soon as Shame opens the door I can see his face is set and he’s disappointed. He’s pissed at me. Of course he is. Even during my tantrums I’m not blind to my own complete adolescent behavior.
Rather than start yelling at me like he would love to, he comes straight to my side and sits down next to me on my bed. Then, from nearly out of nowhere, he grabs me. He isn’t gentle about it. He’s using full force. He makes quick work of it, too. He’s not letting me get away from him and before I can register what he’s done, I’m leaning into his side and he’s wrapped my arm around his waist, holding me close to him.
Neither of us speaks for a minute. I would like to know what the hell he’s doing with me, but being held like this, by someone so familiar, is therapeutic. Of course, these arms belong to my best friend, but I’m taking them and using this time to gather strength and bottle it for when my supply has diminished. We just sit there for I’m not even sure how long, before Shame finally starts talking to me in a quiet and gentle tone. One that I’m unsure I’ve ever heard from him. That’s always been for Mace.
He clears his throat before he begins. I’m not looking at him because my head is on his chest and his hand not holding me to him, is rubbing my hair at the temple.
“You’re not the only one hurt here, sweetheart.” I hear him swallow above me. I can also hear his heart rate increase; a sure sign that he’s upset.
“He left me, too. You know what happened and that I couldn’t save him. That guilt eats at me every God … Damn ... .Day! When I look at you, Patrick, and Mace, it fuckin’ kills me. I miss him so much. There isn’t a memory I have since I was eleven years old that doesn’t have the four of us in it. He was my best friend. I loved him most of his life. Sweetie, that’s just it, though. I loved him all his life. His life is over, mine isn’t. Neither is yours.”
He breaks his speech and I know he’s stopping to see if I have any sort of fight left in me to give him, but I don’t. Having his arms wrapped around me has literally silenced me into submission. I won’t risk upsetting him, only to have him let me go before I’m ready.
“Sadey, no one can move forward with their lives until you do. That sounds like a shit thing to say to you right now, but it’s the honest fuckin’ truth. Hem … he meant something to all of us. He was my best friend, Mace’s brother, Patrick’s dad, and our Club President. We all see you like this and know you’re not healin’ like you should be and it’s guttin’ us. Sadey, I miss him too.”
“Shame…” He isn’t done talking and I know this because his grip on me tightens, so I stop interrupting him so he can continue.
“My son will never know the greatest man I knew in my entire fuckin’ life. Your son won’t know his dad. Mace no longer has ties to any of her family. Hem is dead. Her mom is dead and I killed the only father she ever really knew. My woman never knew her real father, and the shit one she had is the one that killed her only brother. C’mon Sade, you have to realize you’re not alone in this. Are you understanding what I’m saying to you here? All of us are fighting for you, but you have yet to start fighting for yourself, for your son, and for us. What do we need to do for you to help move you through this?”
“Shame ... please.” He hears the tears in my voice. He has to. His words are about to become my un-doing.
Shame and I were close growing up. It was hard not to be close with the four of us always together in some capacity, but he and I have never, and I mean never, had any type of heart to heart conversation like this and I think I’m the only one here that is nervous to finish it.
He keeps going. I feel the shake in his voice. “I’ve failed you. I turned my head, trusting you had this. I banked on the fact that you had it in you to come out of this in your usual ‘Crazy Sadey’ way, but you haven’t. I’m sorry, Sadey. I’m sorry I let you down. I let everyone down losing him. I just didn’t get there to him quick enough.”
I feel him move his hand away from where it was touching my temple and hair to his face and I know he’s wiping his tears.
My own tears have been dropping since he started talking and I haven’t wiped them once, they just continue to fall onto his shirt.
To be honest, I don’t feel anything towards Shame. I’m not angry that he didn’t get to Hem in time. None of this was his fault. This was all on Hem.
I am pissed at myself. That’s not arguable. All these months I’ve been living in the darkness, like a damn shadow of myself, and not one time did I stop and think about those around me. They loved Hem just as much as I did. They lost just as much as Patrick and I did. Yet, I left each of them to deal with the loss of him on their own. I’m also pissed at myself because it took this big, gentle giant to come in here and make me listen.
My best friend Mace,
she has been suffering the loss of her entire family and here I am crying over the future I won’t have with Hem. Shame is right, damn it. I still have a future ahead of me. Hem doesn’t, but I do. I’ve wasted so much time lost in my own head. What have I done?
I’m still resting my cheek on Shame’s chest and I can’t look up to face him right now. Certainly, I owe it to him; to tell him what my heart wants to say.
“Shame…” I pause because I don’t know if he’s done talking, but he says nothing in response.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m a selfish woman. I always have been, ya know? I never once thought of you and how you felt about all this. I know you did what you could to help him that night. He knew what he was doing when he left us, Shame. He knew. I’m angry at him, not you. Please don’t feel guilty for us. You and Mace are my life and I’m sick knowing I’ve taken time away from you, leaving you to watch me sink.”
“Sweetheart, you’re not alone. What you are is someone who is surrounded by so much love. Hell, I’m actually sorrier about Mace.”
Wait, what? What’s he talking about? I don’t interrupt him because I’m dying to know what my pesky little friend has done to him to make him say that. It takes a lot to wear Shame down when it comes to Mace Cash. He worships her, would do anything for her and put up with anything from her. Though, unsure why I’m excited to hear what the little wench has done to get him to say something about her in that regard, but I’m all ears.
“She can be such a pain in the ass. I’ve watched her push you so fuckin’ hard at times during your grief. You weren’t ready, but I let her do her thing because I thought it would help heal her. The only thing that is really gonna help heal my girl is if her girl gets her shit together and starts living again.”
I smile because his voice is exasperated as he talks to me. I know that it’s ironic, but I can hear him telling me to get my shit together now only because he needs to be rescued from his woman. He squeezes me a bit and pushes me up from his chest, prepared for me to sit up and look at him.