Absolution

by S. Kirkpatrick

  It’s sad how many years have passed since I made this and I’ve still never had the time or ability to do any of these things.

  The finality of death creeping in makes the hair on my arms stand up, causing me to pop an ear bud out to ensure I’m prepared if anything comes through the door or single window in the room.

  I pop the button on my holster, making it that much easier to access my gun if need be. I refuse to die in the back of a bar. No matter how insignificant my life is to everyone else, I won’t go out like this.

  When I’m greeted with silence, I look down at my list.

  Things to do before I die:

  Sing karaoke

  Get a tattoo

  Go to a baseball game

  Sleep in the rain

  Get a library card

  Buy my own car and/or home (in my own name)

  Travel anywhere outside the U. S.

  Do something spontaneous (that doesn’t include running)

  Own something that doesn’t fit in a duffel bag

  See a real therapist

  They might not be the biggest aspirations in the world. But they’re mine. They’re all things I hoped would be realistic one day because I could stop running and actually put down roots in one place or stop using fake names everywhere I go.

  R: I take it you’re wanting me to meet your friend and cross of ‘Do Something Spontaneous?’

  L: Precisely. I told him more than I should have. But it worked in your favor. He wants to take you to Rogue.

  Well damn, this just got pretty damn interesting.

  And slightly terrifying.

  Brody is the only person I’ve ever physically shared that side of me with. But Liz is right. If I’m gonna die. I might as well live a little for the first time in my life.

  R: I’m putting my trust in you. Tell him I can meet him there tomorrow. I get off work early.

  L: I hope you have fun, R. You deserve it. And bonus points: You’ll be safe there.

  I already regret saying yes.

  Chapter Seven

  Brody

  I’ve been in a shitty mood for days now. I can’t fucking sleep because every time I close my eyes, I see her goddamn face. Every day, more and more memories flood my mind. Memories that I’ve tried so hard to bury and forget. I can’t even tell anymore if I’m more frustrated remembering the bad ones, or the good ones. They all fucking hurt the same. But the good ones feel like lies.

  Today’s my day off, but I stayed the night in my now finished room upstairs in the shop so I can still hear all the noise from the bikes and tools downstairs. I need something to drown out the memories.

  I gotta be honest, I have zero motivation to leave the goddamn bed. And I have even fewer reasons to. I’ve got a mini-fridge stocked with beer, and a TV with Netflix hanging on the wall across from my bed. Fuck the rest of the world. I’m perfectly content drinking my emotions for the day, hoping like hell that I can drink enough to black out so I can sleep without yellow eyes haunting me.

  Is it the healthiest coping mechanism? No. Do I give a fuck? Not even maybe. I’ve held my shit together for years now, I think I deserve a free pass for the day. Anyone who disagrees with that can join the love of my life in hell.

  Shit, maybe I’m already a little too drunk for it being three in the afternoon.

  A knock sounds on my door, pulling my attention as Lucifer yells out ‘Detective’ on my show.

  “NO!” I scream at whoever is on the other side of the door.

  “Don’t scream at me, asshat!” Max hollers through the door.

  “My bad, I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “Are you gonna let me in?” She asks impatiently.

  “Are you gonna dump my beer out again?”

  Max isn’t a fan of me drinking my feelings. She’s made that very clear since the day I ran into Remi outside of that dilapidated motel. Not that she knows what happened, but I’ve been in a mood since I came back from that run.

  Each time Max sees a beer in my hand, she waits for the moment I set it down. If I turn my back for a single moment, it miraculously ends up tipped over and all of the beer ends up on the floor.

  Yeah, she’s a peach lately.

  She giggles, but assures me she won’t destroy my only coping mechanism, so I invite her in, still not trusting her in the slightest. When Mama Max disapproves of one of the actions of us guys, she normally doesn’t shut up until she gets her way.

  I mute the show as she comes in and takes a seat at the foot of my bed.

  “Bree’s pissed.” She tells me.

  “That just means she’s breathing.”

  She swats my leg, smiling to herself as she unleashes a mass of word vomit that takes up more space in the room than she does.

  “Something’s going on with you and she wouldn’t answer any of my questions. None of the guys will either, not even Abel. He said I needed to talk to you. Throw me a bone, Brody. What’s going on? You haven’t been yourself lately and it’s starting to worry me.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “And now you’re lying to me?”

  “It’s not a lie. I’ll be alright in about four more beers.” I say, polishing off the beer in my hand.

  Tastes like fucking solace to me.

  Without speaking another word, she cracks the window at the foot of my bed and quick as lightning yanks my mini-fridge full of Guinness from the wall and tosses it out the window. She reclaims her seat on my bed, picking invisible lint off her shoulder like she didn’t do a damn thing.

  “What the fuck?” I scream, jumping up and running to the window, making sure the fridge didn’t cause any damage to anything on the ground outside.

  “Well, no more beer means you won’t be fine. Guess that means you’re gonna have to tell me what’s going on after all.”

  The women in my life, I swear they’re actually trying to kill me. Or trying to get me to kill them, one or the other.

  I fist my hands in my hair, growling out my frustration with as much restraint as I can manage. Who in their right mind comes into someone’s room, who they know is going through some shit, and then throws their mini-fridge out of the fucking window?

  Insane people. That’s who.

  “The sooner you tell me, the sooner I get out of your hair. You’re only making it harder on yourself.” She says, pretending to examine her nails.

  We both know it’s a bullshit move. She’s not one of those kinds of girls. She never has been and never will be.

  I blow out a breath, and join her on the bed, knowing that she’s right. Better to get this shit over with rather than delay the inevitable.

  “You want the long version or the short version?”

  “What do you think?” She asks with a mischievous smile.

  I lean forward, placing my elbows on my legs while my folded hands rest under my chin. I should’ve known that she’d want as many details as possible.

  Fucking women!

  “You might be here a while.”

  “Sonya and Kat stole my kids for a play date, I’ve got time.”

  I raise an eyebrow, not fucking impressed.

  “Jake and Talon are with them, you overprotective asshole. I know how to be a mother.” She says, rolling her eyes at me.

  I inhale a deep breath, needing a little longer to gather my thoughts, wondering where to start. The first memory of Remi smiling in my direction flashes behind my eyes and I smile to myself without meaning to.

  “I was in love once. I thought it was the kind of love that you and Abel have. For years, I swear she was the reason why my blood kept pumping. She was… Fuck, she was it for me.”

  Max pulls her knees up to her chest as if she’s about to hear the most exciting bedtime story anyone’s ever told. Sadly, there’s no happily ever after involved. In fact, it’s pretty much the exact opposite.

  Slowly but surely, the memory of the first day I met
Remi, eleven years ago, washes away all other thoughts in my mind.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s been a good year for them as a whole.” I say to the rest of the guys as the highlights roll across the screen.

  “Yeah, but let’s be honest, you’re mostly stoked about what this means for Dustin Ackley for the draft.” Ryan says, taking a swig of his Mountain Dew.

  “Hell yeah, I’m excited. Have you not been paying attention this season? The man is unstoppable.”

  Dex rolls his eyes as he sits in the chair across from me and Ryan. “Oh please, that dude would shit his pants if he and Matt Harvey were on opposing teams.”

  I laugh out loud, unable to stop myself. Of all the things he could have contributed to this conversation, that’s the last direction I thought he was going to go. Dude is normally smarter than this.

  “That’s comparing apples and oranges, you idiot. If they were relatively the same position I could understand the theory of competition. But what you just did is hypothetically set your pick up for devastation.”

  I click my tongue at him, letting him know how bad he fucked up before I continue. He knows better than start this conversation with me.

  “Harvey’s a pitcher and you want to put him up against Ackley on opposing teams? Ackley doesn’t just have the best batting average on the team, he’s one of the top hitters in Tar Heel history. Harvey couldn’t strike him out even on his best day.”

  Dex jumps out of his seat, looming over the TV screen, and makes sure to point Harvey out as if we needed a visual aid. He starts spewing out stats for his favorite player, acting like any of that would make a difference in my argument. Facts are facts. He can’t honestly believe his opinion would change any of that.

  Even as Abel filters around his room, getting ready for yet another shift at one of his jobs, he laughs at the ferocity of Dex’s argument.

  “Let it go, Dex, you’re never gonna win this fight.”

  Dex’s words halt mid-sentence as he stares at his best friend in a hilarious display of horror. Abel’s always been a Matt Harvey fan, but he knows Ackley’s a fucking legend in the making and no argument for any other player will dispute that fact.

  “Are you idiots in here fighting over baseball again?” Bree asks as she walks up, leaning against the doorway to her brother’s room.

  “No, Dexter is fighting. The rest of us are just educating him.” My words come out in a mocking tone, bringing a small smile to Bree’s lips and a flush to Dex’s cheeks. He doesn’t like getting called out in front of her and he definitely doesn’t like that I used his full name.

  He can try and hide it all he wants, but I know he’s in love with her. I won’t say anything unless he does, but with how long his silence has already been going on, I’m wondering if that day will ever come.

  “Where are you off to?” Abel asks in an authoritative tone. I watch as his eyes rake over his sister from head to toe. “And where the hell are the rest of your clothes?”

  Bree huffs at his inquisition, flips him off, turns away, and heads down the hallway to her room, not even bothering to respond to his question.

  “Seriously, where the fuck are the rest of her clothes?” He asks, his eyes darting back and forth between the three of us in his room, clearly unhappy that his sixteen-year-old sister is starting to grow into herself.

  “They’re just shorts, Abel. Leave her be.” Dex says as he refuses to make eye contact with him.

  I can see the approval of Bree’s shorts written clear as day across his face. I can also see him attempting to readjust himself inside his jeans, a fact I’m sure he doesn’t want to broadcast to her older brother and his best friend.

  “Those aren’t shorts, those are underwear.” Abel objects.

  The sincerity of his voice makes me choke back a laugh. He really does sound as if he’s her dad and not just her brother.

  Abel starts digging in the drawers of his dresser muttering under his breath. I catch a few bits and pieces like ‘over my dead fucking body’ and ‘lost her damn mind.’ Which pretty much gives me the gist of the rest of his ramblings.

  Abel turns abruptly tossing something across the room. I watch as a pair of sweatpants lands a direct hit in Dex’s face. As the black blob begins to fall, he catches them in his hands with an inquisitive look to the furious big brother standing in our midst.

  “Use whatever voodoo bullshit you always do to get her to listen and make her put those on.” He says, pointing to the sweatpants that Dex is holding to his chest as if it’s a snake that might bite him. “I will burn the whole fucking town to the ground if she leaves the house in what she’s got on right now. I have to go to work or else I would fight with her myself.”

  Dex stares at Abel with his face twisted up in confusion and his mouth hanging open.

  “What are you waiting for? She listens to you, asshole. Go!” He shouts, pointing toward the hallway where Bree just disappeared a few moments before.

  Dex scrambles out of the room without uttering a word. Abel looks satisfied with himself and gives a nod of approval over the situation. If only he knew that Dex would rather peel Bree’s shorts off with his teeth rather than have her put those sweatpants on…

  “I gotta go but I’ll catch you guys later. Chain her to the fucking bed if she tries to slip by you with that shit on after I leave.” He disappears out of the room without actually waiting for a response.

  Once I hear his bike roar to life outside, I turn to Ryan who is still watching the game highlights and appears to have paid no attention to what just happened.

  “I’m gonna go grab a bite to eat, you wanna come?”

  Without turning around to look at me, he laughs. “And miss the nuclear bomb that’s about to go off when Dex seriously tries to get Bree to change? Nah, it’ll be hilarious. I’m gonna hang back and enjoy the show. I’ll catch up with you later tonight.”

  Apparently, he was paying attention.

  “Good luck with that.” I tell him as I quickly make my way to the front door, just in time to hear Bree’s voice carry out through the house. I couldn’t catch what she said, but by the tone of her voice, she’s not happy.

  I wonder how long it will take Abel to realize that the ‘voodoo’ Dex uses on his little sister to get her to listen is just him simply existing. Bree would do anything to make that idiot happy. Everything except fess up and admit she’s in love with him too.

  They’re complete fucking morons if you ask me.

  I hop on the back of my bike and make my way across our small beach town to a taco stand that I’ve been craving all day. Mahi-Mahi tacos with sour cream and cilantro lime sauce. Oh yeah, that’s what I need.

  I make quick work of parking my bike and jogging up to Vince’s Shack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it was a snow cone stand. It’s smaller than my dad’s tool shed and pretty non-descript. The green paint on the sides has been chipping off a little more each year, littering the sand beneath it. There are eight picnic tables placed haphazardly around all four sides of the building, all full of tourists enjoying the best lunch they’ll find on the shore.

  “Yo, Brody, my man. How hungry are you today?” Vince calls out to me through the tiny window where he takes customers' orders. I’m probably the fifth person in line, but he ignores the customers in front of him as soon as he sees me.

  Perks of growing up a beach kid.

  “Pile me high, V.” I laugh, keeping my place in the back of the line.

  I get the bills in my hand ready, knowing I’ll probably be tossing them through the window well before the people in front of me place their orders. I never ask for special treatment, but with how often I eat here, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m single-handedly paying for his kids’ college funds. I’m sure that gives me a little bit of a VIP ranking in his eyes.

  With still two more people ahead of me in line, the side door of the taco shack opens up and Vince’s youngest son, Louie,
calls my name. He holds on to the door frame with one hand and dangles my box of food out with the other.

  “Pops said he made sure to give you the special slaw the way you like it.” He smiles at me when I approach.

  I hand him the folded bills, a smile on my face.

  “Tell your dad to put the rest toward the people’s orders in front of me. Use what’s left for a tip.”

  Louie lights up at the last part of my sentence, and I stroll away before the people ahead of me try to turn to thank me for paying for their meals.

  Even though Vince has known me since I was a kid, it doesn’t make my order more important than theirs. I can’t get the old man to change how he operates but the least I can do is ease the tension me getting served first probably caused.

  I make my way down the beach, climbing over rocks and down into the sectioned-off little cove that no one’s supposed to go into. Tourists would never find this place, and most of the local assholes only come here to party after the sun has set. During the day it’s quiet, away from the hustle and the bustle of the vacationing families. Bree may like the noise, but I certainly do not.

  I take the last step down into the secret cove and my expression sours when I see someone invading my hiding spot. She’s sitting with her back to me but her long black hair blows in the wind behind her. She’s got her legs pulled up to her in a casual manner with her arms draped over her knees. She stares off into the distance, a tense expression on her face.

  “I would ask if you come here often, but I already know the answer to that question.” I say, alerting her to my presence.

  She jumps to her feet at the sound of my voice, arms raised like she’s ready for a fight. I take a seat in the sand where she just vacated, peering up at her.

  She remains in a defensive stance, arms raised like she can’t trust that I won’t stay seated. I pop a couple of crinkle-cut fries from my to-go box in my mouth as I return her stare, but make no effort in questioning her. Whatever her deal is, it’s none of my business. I just want my spot back.