23. Talon
Talon
Toby and Banks arrive not long after Fern came barging in, laughing and cutting up about some podcast they listened to on the way. Diego wraps Banks up in his arms and squeezes him like he hasn’t seen him in years, and Dad slaps Toby on the back and pulls his shoulder into one of those one arm ‘bro hugs’.
Creed and Fern are cozied up on the couch furthest from the group, near the windowed wall that leads to the back patio. His phone rings and he excuses himself, kissing Fern before walking outside.
She watches him like a hawk, as if he will disappear at any moment, and I guess that comes with the trauma those two went through a few months ago. Creed and her brother, Manson, were kidnapped by a man who was hellbent that Fern was his to have and to hold. A delusional man who was fixated on a beautiful woman, and couldn’t let her go.
I’m not envious of them, loving someone so much that you’re every move is reliant on them is not something I want a part of.
“Where’s Henry?” Luca asks, coming around the corner in his work out gear.
“He’s still at the bakery with Candy,” Fern announces without looking away from Creed. His stance is rigid, and his face is unreadable, always has been for me. He eyes Fern from where he’s standing, nodding and immediately calling someone else when he finishes talking.
Dad and Diego stand, ready to jump at a moment's notice from Creed. I know the bond they share because I share it with Henry, Banks, and Toby, so it’s never been weird for me.
Creed storms in through the glass and starts giving out orders, Diego nods and heads toward one of the surveillance rooms where he can do pretty much anything he needs to do. Dad starts making phone calls and then Creed’s eyes land on Toby, Banks, and me.
“I need you boys to go to the store,” he says, “Mack is coming, with Gran.”
I smile, I fucking love when Gran visits, but I get stuck on what he tells Fern.
“Two females,” I try to listen over Toby and Banks bickering about who’s driving, “list, she needs…”
“Come on Tal,” Banks shouts and I shake my head, wondering who was coming, and what Mack has to do with them?
We drive to the store, armed with a list from the cook, and the regular shit we always get when we come here. By now we have it memorized, basic toiletries, first aid shit, and food. So much food, you’d think we were feeding an army. And we might be, who knows what’s going down.
Especially if Gran is involved.
My phone pings with a notification from dad, it’s got other stuff on it. Additional shit we’ve only bought once, and that was for Fern. And Fern no longer lets us buy her stuff, so what the fuck is going on?
“Why are you looking at your phone like you want to crush it?” Toby says, eyeing me along with Banks.
“We have a few more things to get,” I say, shoving my phone into his chest and walking in the direction of feminine care. Pads, tampons, body wash, shampoo, all things that suggest we’re not only getting Mack and Gran’s company, but also another woman.
I hate that I have no idea what the hell is going on. Why are we buying all this shit? Who the fuck is it for? Creed’s so far up Fern’s ass it’s not even funny, and if it’s any of our dads I’d be surprised. So that leaves Mack, and I know he’s not flying in from New York with Gran for a fucking booty call.
I’m fully aware that I’m throwing shit into a cart, looking like a toddler having a tantrum. But I don’t want another woman in our house, Fern is enough. Sometimes more than enough.
“Dude,” Banks leans down against the cart handles, “maybe she’s hot.”
His smirk irritates me, and I want to punch it off his face. Toby steps in front of the cart and tries to reason with me.
“You don’t even know who this is for.”
“You think Gran still has a period, dumbass?” I scoff.
“No,” he quips, “but before you lose your shit, how about you wait to find out what’s going on?”
What else can I do? I have no say in the matter either way. So I follow them around the store until our list is complete and we check out. Loading the SUV down with all the shit we bought, I watch Banks return the cart, running and hopping on the back, riding it all the way to the cart drop off stall.
He half walks, half jogs back to us and jumps into the driver seat, pressing the button to ignite the engine before he peels out of the parking lot and heads toward home. Gravity Hill isn’t a large town, the biggest store we have is a corner market, so we had to drive thirty minutes to the closest big box store to get all the shit Creed asked for.
Once we arrive back at the house, we unload all of the bags into the kitchen and let the cook do what he does with the produce, and Fern takes care of the rest. I don’t know shit about where to set up the rooms Creed asked for. Other than Mack and Gran’s rooms, I wasn’t aware we had any extra.
The boys and I couldn’t have been gone for longer than two hours, and yet, walking into my room, I’m blindsided by dad here, hooking an IV drip to a metal post near the head of my bed. There’s a mattress made up with sheets and a comforter shoved between the wall and my bed.
“What the fuck…” I stand there, opening my arms wide.
“Son, you’re going to bunk with Toby for a few nights,” dad says, and I start to rebuke, but he holds up a hand, “this girl has been through something you could never imagine and needs her own space.”
“That's rich,” I argue, “coming from the man who forgot he had kids when his wife left.”
His face turns to stone and I know I struck the nerve I intended. We stand there, eyeing each other, both of our anger rising. I can tell by the way his chest puffs up and down with each breath that he’s pissed.
Mom left and he just lost himself. Leaving us with nannies for weeks on end. We were kids , and he left. Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly angsty, I would wish he wouldn’t come back. At least then, I would have had a reason for all this hate I carry to this day.
“I’ve done everything I can to make that up to you both, it’s not my job to make you believe it anymore.”
With that he continues reorganizing my room into a makeshift hospital. Whoever is coming here must be fucked up to need all this. Bandages and a suture kit line a tray with alcohol, iodine, and everything else Gran needs to patch someone up.
Bags of fluids line my dresser, and I want to pop them all just to watch them drain all over the floor.
Empty, and ruined.
Like me.