Where She Was Loved

by Sarah Tomlinson

  Eric - July 2012

  I thought I saw her this morning as I sped down Highway 51, just outside of Memphis. It wasn't the first time I mistook someone for Ashley and it probably wouldn't be the last. People probably thought I was crazy for the amount of times I turned around or ran after someone, thinking for a brief moment I had found her.

  For just a second though, I slowed my motorcycle as I passed the roadside fruit stand. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me as I passed a girl I swore was Ash–the same hair and smile, only wearing sunglasses, but the likeness was uncanny and my chest constricted. No, I shook my head and sped up again, dismissing the idea. I reminded myself I wasn't going to do that anymore, stop and make a fool of myself chasing a ghost. I kept my eyes straight ahead focusing on the highway, as I rode away from the girl, away from another false sense of hope.

  I needed to think of anything but the young woman of my past, so I tried to focus on the night ahead as I sat in the tattoo parlor, a needle pricking my arm. I was going to push my troubles aside, lock them deep down within myself, and throw away the key. Yes, I would focus on tonight.

  It was going to be great and it was all about celebrating and enjoying the company of my brothers from the MC. Now that I was freshly inked and back on my bike, I was due to meet Trevor, our pres, and the rest of the boys at Jack's BBQ bar. It had been arranged as our meeting point once I had finished up with the tattooist. The past year my ink had started slowly trailing its way up my arms, my legs, chest, and back. Heck, anywhere I felt needed the art and the skin was still a bare canvas, somehow I would find a design I needed to own and I loved it. But today's appointment had been set aside to receive my final piece–the signature of my Heathen brothers. I would officially be patched in.

  When my new ink was finally done and displayed on my left shoulder, I pulled up at the bar ready to show it off proudly. The boys were all there yapping out the front, leaning against their rides. Some random people passing stopped to admire the bikes and some to admire the club girls hanging off of them.

  It looked as though it was going to be one major party. Normally, celebrations for newly-patched members would take place at the compound, but Trevor insisted we celebrate out on the town.

  I backed my bike up to the curb and kicked the stand down. Before I could even dismount from the bike, Sally, one of the club girls, came bounding over, thrusting herself at me, and kissing me as she threw her leg over the bike to straddle the seat with her red skirt riding up. She was sweet and beautiful with her midnight black hair and petite frame. Once upon a time, I could have even seen her as old lady material. Still, she wasn't Ashley. No one would ever be her, which meant I refused to commit.

  I smacked my forehead for doing it once again, for thinking about her. It hadn't just been a summer crush to me, some sweet romance I could walk away from. I loved her. I knew it the first moment I had laid eyes on Ash. So, the question was, how do I move on? Because I had no idea how to let go.

  Prying Sally away from me long enough to speak, I grumbled, "Sal, we've been over this. I'm. Not. Interested."

  The boys roared with laughter, overhearing my comment. Sally lowered her head in embarrassment and disembarked from the bike. She turned to walk away, and I rolled my eyes feeling like a complete jerk. She didn't deserve my coldness.

  "Sally, don't be like that," I followed her lead and jumped off the bike, grabbing her by the arm to stop her from leaving as she tried to hurry away.

  "You need to stop waiting for a ghost, Eric." She looked up at me woefully and I could see her heart shattering from me turning her down once again. I had known for a while she had liked me, I also knew that in the end, she would only find unhappiness with me because she would always be second place.

  I knew she was right about letting Ash go, but my heart refused to listen. I turned my head toward Baptist Memorial Hospital and it happened again–the daily image haunting me–a girl, running into the hospital, with long mousy brown hair and the same frame as Ash, the same girl I saw at the roadside fruit stand. I closed my eyes and looked again. The girl stopped and turned to look at me. She may have been a fair distance away, but I swore I knew those sad eyes glistening with newly shed tears.

  Letting go of Sally, I bolted, dodging oncoming traffic as I ran across the street. "Ashley!" I yelled. All the while Sally called my name telling me to stop.

  I didn't listen as I followed the girl that ran straight through the hospital doors and out of sight. I raced through the entrance, but once in the main emergency department, I stopped, catching my breath and looking around. Where did she go? I stood peering around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her all the while questioning myself–and my sanity.

  Shaking my head again and laughing at nothing but my ridiculous imagination, I left the hospital. I needed a strong drink, and fast. Of all the places Ashley could be, I was pretty sure there was a slim chance she was in Memphis. Once again I had chased a ghost. Sally was right, I needed to let go. And the only way to do that was to set my sights on something else.

  I walked in through the front door of my father's house, as the sun was beginning to rise. After parting all night out with the Heathens, all I wanted to do now was make it to my room and pass out for a solid twelve hours or more and bypass the hangover that had already begun to set in.

  It was the last night of me being a prospect and thank heavens for that. I was well and truly over being the scud kicker and regular errand boy. I did all the things nobody else wanted to handle. That was the price you paid before being initiated into the club. I had seen and done things I never thought I would be capable of, things I would take to my grave and never speak of to another human, all in the name of brotherhood. Some days I wondered if I was even strong enough for the backlash of my sins, but there was no turning back. Not now, not ever.

  Hung-over and rubbing at my fresh tattoo, I squinted into the darkness of the house, barely able to see my father sitting in an armchair facing the door, waiting for me.

  "Where were you, son?" he asked, steepling his fingers. Alec, my father, was a man known to not take any crap–from anyone.

  I knew my father was one hundred percent against the Heathen lifestyle for me; however, I also thought his opinion was a complete contradiction. The club was the same family of brothers I had grown up around. My entire childhood held memories with the MC in it, and now my father was denying me the right to take my place? I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  "Out," I snapped, as I walked past him heading for the hallway.

  "With who?" my father asked, already knowing the answer and standing up to follow me.

  "Some friends."

  "Like the Heathens?" he asked, as if he had no clue. He was seriously crap at this questioning thing.

  "I don't see how or why you'd care. You used to be one of them." I turned to face off with him.

  My father closed his eyes, trying to keep his patience reined in as he stood face to face with me. "I promised your mother I wouldn't let you join any motorcycle club."

  "You loved them once. Like family!" I shot back.

  "I still do, but it's not a life I want anymore. Not for me, and especially not for you. I did things I now have to live with for the rest of my life. Things that would make your mama ashamed to have been my wife."

  "You don't get to make those kinds of decisions for me. I'm not some little kid, old man. I'm twenty-one years old."

  I watched as my father placed his hands on his hips, and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I was so proud of you for coming back and getting your life together. I don't know what happened to make you leave your grandfather's, but the past year, you've been spiraling into a very dark place. I know what it's like to be there. You don't want to go to that place, and you don’t want to join the Heathens.”

  "I do. This is what I want and you need to butt out of my life," I told him.

  "You might legally be an adult, but I am driving you back to your grandfather's this i
nstant. I never want to see you in Memphis again and that's final!" my father stated.

  "What? You can't tell me how to live my life. Just worry about living yours, old man," I exclaimed.

  I knew my attitude was uncalled for, but I was tired, drunk, and sick of my life being under a microscope. I knew I should have moved in to one of the rooms at the club. It would have been better than coming home to an overbearing father. What stopped me was knowing that if I wasn't around, my old man would truly be alone.

  My father reached out, grabbing me by the arm, and pulled me along the hallway through the living room and opened the door to the garage.

  I had amused him long enough as we stepped down into the double garage. I yanked my arm out of my father's grasp and stepped away from him, refusing to let my father control my life. He tried to grab my arm again, but with a hard shove to the chest from me, my father went flying backwards, hitting the garage wall with a hard thud.

  I was seething that he thought he could control me, tell me how to live my life, even in my adult years. I was also shocked by my behavior. Never did I imagine I would raise a hand to my father or hurt him in any way. I may be built and certainly capable of looking after myself, but it wasn't in my nature to purposely harm those that I cared about. No matter how much I tried to act tough and unaffected, I knew one day the things I had done would come back to haunt me. I knew I would always feel bad about hurting my father, that was guaranteed.

  I had always been more sympathetic, like my mother, which I knew and once upon a time accepted. Only once had I raised my hand before and that was to defend Ashley against her father. No, that was a lie. What I did for my brothers, my club, well... it was unspeakable.

  I stared at my father, unsure of what to say. How could I take back what I just did? I expected to see rage emanate from my father after my actions; instead, all I saw was a deep well of unspoken words, mistakes, and failure within his eyes. My anger faded fast, morphing into shame and resentment. Clutching at my hair, I tried to think of something, anything, to change the situation.

  "Your mother was good, you know? Too good for me. And I see the potential of her goodness inside of you. The Heathens will kill that," my father said, as he pushed off the wall to right himself.

  I nodded silently. For what felt like an eternity, the both of us stood cemented in our positions, both coming to terms with what we must do. My father was right; this wasn't the life I was chosen for. There was a big part of me that wanted to give in and follow in his footsteps by joining the club. Knowing my father's past and the pain he inflicted on others in the name of brotherhood, could I honestly say I would continue to be okay and participate? But then again, did I really want to give up the brotherhood, my family, to pave my own path? If I got into my father's truck it would be farewell to my old life. There was no turning back–two roads, one decision.

  My father walked towards me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I want you to stay with your grandfather, son. Go to school in Pennsylvania, please. There is nothing for you here."

  "What about you?" I choked out, the moment feeling too heavy all of a sudden.

  "I'm coming with you. I've told the brothers and they back me on this decision. Call last night your send-off, not an initiation. They knew I was going to take you back," my father subtly stated, with a hint of excitement lacing its pitch. If I didn't know better, I would say he was looking forward to it.

  Looking back at last night, everything clicked into place. The brothers were melancholy, but I figured it was just one of those nights. My tattoo now seemed like a badge to remember them by. I also knew this was my only chance. If I joined them once and for all, there was no getting out. My father had been the exception to club life and I doubt they would ever offer the favor to another.

  My father was already sitting in the truck, putting it into gear as made up my mind and climbed into the passenger seat. Looking behind me into the back of the truck, I saw our bags had already been packed.

  "What about our belongings? The house? Maybe we should just slow down a minute and think about all of this," I tried to reason with him.

  He reversed out of the garage, looking out the side mirror as he answered. "Movers will be here next week and as for the house, I'm going to sell it. Everything else we will figure out together, so no son, we won't be thinking about this. Heck, this is something I have been turning over in my head for months."

  "Does Grandfather know we're coming?" I asked, still trying to figure out what we were actually doing. No one just up and left, it was insane. But seeing the determination on my father's face told me I just agreed to the craziest idea he had ever come up with.

  "Yep, he even found me a job at Colin's as a mechanic. So, we're all set."

  "What about the business?"

  "Sold it to the Club. Hah, their first legitimate business will do their reputations good!" he laughed.

  I watched as we pulled out of the driveway, my bike still parked alongside the street; I knew one of the brothers would be by to pick it up.

  I also knew my father and I would never return to Memphis. This chapter of my life was over and, with a hangover the size of Tennessee, I didn't know how I felt about it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ashley -June 2016

  I pushed a lock of hair away from my face as I strolled along the street, tucking it securely behind my ear. My locks had always had a mind of their own, always breaking free from my ponytail. The desert sun beat down on my skin, warming me as I strode home from my first real retail job I had scored at a local fruit stand and grocery store.

  As I walked, thoughts of those I loved in Ligonier crossed my mind. If I hadn't stayed out that one night, I would have been returning to them right now. I was regretful, yet I wouldn't have given up that night for the world. It was a shining memory in a sea of dark ones I had to hold on to these past few years.

  My heart broke as I thought about Eric, which I did often, probably more than what would be called healthy. I saw him once, a few years ago when my father had taken us to Tennessee for peach season. Unbeknownst to my father, I knew that Eric lived there. I prayed and hoped that in going to Memphis, I might find the young man that danced with me in my dreams.

  While my father worked the orchard, I was lucky enough to have my first try at working with customers when Mr. Jones asked if I would like to run the roadside fruit stand. I loved the new position so much more than working the fields. Everything had been going great and Memphis was beautiful. But one summer day, while working the fields, my father hunched over and collapsed.

  When the ambulance arrived at the worksite and rushed him to the hospital, I was beside myself. All the years I had wanted to get away from my him suddenly seemed like a scary choice when faced with the possibility that my only living relative could quite possibly leave me all alone in the world.

  As I paced the hospital waiting for news, I wondered if it was the end. Would Liam make it? Would I finally be free? Would this be the wake-up call for him to change?

  When the doctors had told me my father had a mild heart attack and would need a lot of care until he was back on his feet, my plans for leaving him halted. He may not have been a good man by anyone's standards, but I was a good person and would do the right thing. Also it didn't help that his every threat wound up ending with, "I'll kill them all if you leave." Those very words kept me imprisoned. I would rather die than see any one of them hurt.

  That night as my father lay asleep in his room , I decided to get out of the hospital to clear my head. I walked up and down the block, stopping at the nearest gas station to buy a coffee. As I rounded the corner about to head back into the hospital, I glanced across the street at the clamor of motorbikes and rambunctious voices that caught my attention. Peering at the people milling around wearing leather jackets, my breath caught when my eyes perused the end of the line–and there was Eric, sitting on his bike, placing his helmet into the side bag. I could barely contain my elation as I stare
d at the young man I had missed more than words could express. My voice wanted to scream out and grab his attention.

  I scanned the traffic, ready to wind my way through it towards him when out of nowhere a biker girl bounded over to him, seating herself on his bike, and straddled him. A crushing weight pushed at my chest, the pain excruciating as I clutched at it, dropping my coffee.

  I turned and ran straight for the hospital's emergency entrance. As the glass slid open to allow me to enter, I turned briefly to see the man I loved gazing right at me.

  "Ashley!"

  He was yelling my name, but the hurt was too painful for me to respond. I felt humiliated in that moment for thinking he would still feel something for me after one stupid summer. He had moved on and I was a fool to think he would be missing me as much as I missed him.

  I ran down the sterile hallway and into the women's bathroom, locking myself in a stall, and crying until my eyes lacked tears. I never saw him again after that night. Not even two weeks later, my father discharged himself and we set off for Virginia.

  My father never worked again, leaving me to bear the burden of keeping us going, fed, and clothed. I did my daughterly duty, even if I hated every moment of it. I had wanted to leave him, every day since the time he beat me in Ligonier, the morning he ripped me from that place. But I was scared, and his threats held me captive. After he became sick, I stayed because I was a decent person and if I didn't care for him, who would? And wasn’t that my duty as a child of God? I wasn’t too sure on that one, and my boss, who was a christian and had been teaching me to understand the little white bible I had found in a truck stops bathroom, said some people were better left to God. He was probably right of course, but still fear lived with me daily.

  But no matter how hard I tried to forget, I could never snuff out the flame I held for Eric. I hoped one day we would find each other again, if we were meant to be. All I had was hope.