Chapter 6 Ford
Ford
The need to let my mom know I’m still alive weighs down on me but I can’t see her until I have my shit together. She doesn’t deserve me showing up, scaring the shit out of her, and then not being able to string a sentence together.
Tipping my head back, I stare at the sun until it burns my eyes. I saw night turn into day, and day turn back to night, but it’s been months since I felt the sun warming my skin. Black clouds are off on the horizon and when or if it rains, I’ll still be here soaking in the drops splashing my face.
Silence has been my only companion and sitting outside this morning, I enjoy the background noise from the brothers in the bar.
Sometimes I would conjure conversations back here in the clubhouse. I would pretend I was on the outside looking in and they would keep me company for hours. Then the door would open with some fuck bringing my food in and the illusion would shatter to nothing, and the silence would return.
Minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months, they blended into one long moment and when I was on the verge of giving into the insanity, I’d remember the patch, and I’d bring up more illusions of the brothers and their conversations.
“Hey, Ford.”
I blink and rub the burning from my eyes to find Rudi stood before me.
“Hey.”
“I wanted to check you over again before I leave for work. Is that okay with you?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’d feel better if you just let me check.”
“Seriously, Rudi. Thank you for giving a shit but I’m good. If that changes, I’ll come find you.”
There’s nothing wrong with me apart from a bruised and battered ego. There’s nothing she can do.
My eyes flutter open and there’s nothing but darkness.
Where the fuck am I and why is my head splitting in two?
Even my ears hurt. The pain is rendering me unable to think straight.
I was catering for mom to help the club.
Effie was there. Her men were spotted around, all on alert and all had their eyes on me.
The plan was… shit, what was the plan? There was one but I can’t…
the pain is too much. Darkness and reality fuses together, I can’t be sure how long I’m awake for or how long I’m out for.
What does stick in my mind is the club. Luca was up on the roof on the next building over.
Effie was on the phone with him… she was laughing. Then… bang.
I open my eyes and manage to keep them open. I breathe through the pain and start to use my senses.
I can faintly hear an engine, and the motion tells me we’re in a vehicle and we must be heading somewhere far from the city, we’re not stopping or slowing.
Luca and the guys will be fighting, looking for me, all I have to do is keep myself alive. If Effie was going to kill me, she would’ve done it in front of the club and left me in the back alley. So all I have to do is keep my head on my shoulders and my mouth shut.
Between the smooth motion of the road and whatever the fuck is going on with my head, I continue to drift in and out of consciousness. It’s not until the vehicle stops and I listen to gravel crunching under heavy steps, I force myself to stay alert.
Doors are flung open, and I’m dragged out from underneath a wooden crate. I land on the ground and before I can take in my surroundings, a bag is put over my head.
I’m yanked up to my feet, and I’m given no leeway as I’m half bundled and half dragged through what I’m guessing is a doorway, and then I know I’m right when I stumble my way up a set of stairs. I take twelve steps before I’m shoved, and I land face down on something that resembles a thin mattress.
My wrists are tied together and one of my ankles are being gripped so tight I wonder how big this fucker’s hand is. The clanking of metal gets my attention.
The bag is yanked off of my head, and I squint on reflex, but the room is dark, and my captures are wearing ski masks. It gives me hope that I’ll get out of this alive. If they were planning on killing me, they wouldn’t be concerned about hiding their identities.
I have no idea why I haven’t been killed already, I have no idea where I am, but I have hope. I just hope that that hope isn’t what kills me in the end.
Though the hope has to wait, a black gloved fist hurtles towards my face.
“Rudes ain’t happy with you. She left muttering something about you being a stubborn ass.”
Where Rudi was just stood is now King. He takes a seat next to mine and offers me a cigarette. I take one and dig my lighter out of my pocket. I light up and inhale so deeply, half the white stick burns down.
“I told her I was fine. She doesn’t need to keep checking me over.”
“We’re just worried about you, brother. We spent months grieving for you, only to have you back, all living and breathing and shit.”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t the one spending long ass days on your own, not knowing if it was that day that was going to be your last. If I’m honest, I was more mind fucked than physically.”
I take another drag on the cigarette and flick the butt, it landing in the bucket used for an ashtray.
“It was fucked up, for sure.”
He has no fucking idea.
It’s late and the streets are quiet. I keep my head down as I walk through the city towards my mom’s house. Sickness creeps over me at the thought of what I’m going to say to her. She’s been mourning and grieving for me for months and now here I am, about to show up like I’ve risen from the dead.
I’ve come up with countless ideas how to approach this without scaring the shit out of her and failed every time. I keep going, fearing if I stop, even for a second, I’ll turn around and chicken out of it.
Anxiety builds as I turn onto the street I grew up on, and my mom’s house comes into view.
I make my way unseen around to the back of the house and keep to the shadows as I search for the spare key my mom keeps out here under her favourite plant.
It’s still there.
Letting myself in, the house is quiet, and the only light is coming from the television in the living room. It spills out into the hall.
Mom is asleep on the couch. A half-empty bottle of wine and an empty wine glass sits on the coffee table next to an open photo album.
A hot tear rolls down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away.
Throughout my childhood I gave my mom such stress over bad behaviour at school and then the trouble I got into as an adult.
I never gave any thought as to how I made her feel.
She was a single parent, and I never went without because of how hard she worked to support us.
I lower myself to my knees at her side and swallow to clear my throat. Maybe I didn’t need a plan to do this because no plan exists.
“Mom,” I whisper.
There’s movement behind her eyes, but she doesn’t open them.
“Mom!” I whisper louder.
Her eyes spring open and she’s stuck staring at me. I’m not expecting her smile or to relax back into the cushions.
“I’ve been waiting for you, son.”
Her eyes flutter shut. Fuck, she thinks she’s dreaming.
“Mom. It’s me, I’m here. Wake up.”
Her eyes shoot open and this time, they remain open. But she’s not smiling anymore. Horror and confusion contort her soft features, and I get ready to slam my hand over her mouth for the scream I can already hear.
“No!” She shakes her head and doesn’t seem to know how to stop. “No. No. No!”
She sits up and the blanket I had as a kid slips off her and down onto the floor.
“I know this is fucked up, but I need you not to scream and just listen to me. I’ll explain everything.”
Her scream doesn’t come. She throws herself at me and wraps me in her arms. Her hands pat my back, and her fingertips dig in, no doubt making sure I’m really here and she’s not trapped in a nightmare.
“Oh, Ford,” she sobs.
Her cries grow and I find myself releasing the built-up tears I refused to shed while I was captured.
“How? I buried you!” she says sternly, pushing away from me and slapping my arm.
I let her go and she pours herself a generous helping of wine. She gulps it down until the glass is empty.
“Okay, explain. Right now!”
I sit beside her on the couch and keep hold of her hand tightly.
“You know I joined the club…”
“A criminal gang.”
“A Motorcycle Club, Mom,” I point out and continue, “We were caught out and the person we were trying to catch made it look like she had killed me. While everyone believed I was dead, she kept me locked up in a cabin out of the city.”
She pulls back her hand and cups my cheek. She goes to speak but not a word comes out.
“The club found out I was still alive, and they didn’t stop until they found me and brought me home.”
I give her a moment to process without having given her all the gruesome details.
“Now you’re home,” she whispers.
“Yeah. I don’t know what I’m going to do about getting my life back in order. My social security…”
“But you’re home. That’s the most important thing and that you’re never going back to that criminal gang.”
“Club,” I remind her. “And yeah, Mom. I’m still a brother in the club. That hasn’t changed.”
The look of disappointment and anger mixes in her eyes, a look I’ve seen too many times but after the shit I’ve been through, I’ll sit here and take it.
“But they got you killed! Or we thought they did. You can’t go back to them. They’ll definitely get you killed one day!”
“Mom, please, calm down.”
“Calm down? I have spent months not knowing how I was going to continue because I thought I had lost you. There was a time I tried to… you know what, never mind. But I’ll tell you this, if you go back to that gang, you’re not welcome here. I can’t live worrying you really will end up dead!”
She can’t bring herself to look at me. I didn’t want to argue with her, but I should’ve expected her anger.
“I’ll leave…” She cuts me off, “No! Stay! I only just got you back!”
Her terror of me going has me rooted where I’m stood. She looks me up and down and murmurs, “I’ll cook you your favourite. You’re far too thin.”
She rushes by me and into the kitchen. I take a moment to breathe and then join her.
I sit at the table and watch as she prepares a lasagne with all the trimmings. “What are you going to tell people? What am I going to tell people?”
I lick my lips and say, “I haven’t quite worked that out but something along the lines of, I left town, and it was a case of mistaken identity.”
“Your Uncle Jack will expect me to sue the city for that kind of mess up and what will I tell him? You know him, he won’t let it go.”
“It’ll work itself out, Mom.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” she mutters.
Every so often she stops and stares at me, then goes back to cooking. I keep my mouth shut and wait for her to say something. She keeps me waiting until she places our plates on the table and pulls out a chair to sit.
“If I’m dreaming, I don’t want to wake up.”
Using her sleeve, she dabs her eyes, and I reach across the table to hold onto her hand.
“Mom…”
“There is nothing you can say that will make me forget having to live believing you were dead. Until you have your own child, you have no idea how powerful a parent’s love is. Unless you’re going to tell me you won’t ever go back to that gang, you keep your mouth shut and eat your food.”
Her shoulders sag when I pick up my fork and dig into my first homecooked meal in months. Dinner is eaten in silence and though I’m content to be around my mom, she constantly flicks her eyes to me, making sure I’m still here. My guilt intensifies and hopefully in time, she will forgive me.
Dawn has broken and I must have fallen asleep on the armchair. My mother is the first sight I see when I open my eyes.
“How long have you been sat there?” I ask.
Perched on the edge of the coffee table, she tells me, “I’ve been here since you fell asleep. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you.”
It must be torture being a parent. The worry and all other emotions that they live with because of another person.
“I kept thinking if I fell asleep, I might wake up and you would’ve been a dream.”
“I’m here, Mom, and I promise, you won’t have to go through this again.”
“You can’t make such promises. Do you know when you were about two or three, you went through a phase of being too scared to sleep in your own bed.
You’d only fall asleep after I promised to watch over you.
Of course I’d fall asleep soon after, but I always woke before you and you thought I’d stayed up all night.
And now I finally kept my word and you’re a grown man. ”
I sit forward and take hold of her hands. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through but please, trust me now, you don’t have to worry.”
“I wouldn’t if you left the club.”
Blowing out a long breath, I try to keep my shit together.
“I’m not leaving the club. I’m back and I’m going to show you that I’m going nowhere.”
Her cheeks balloon as she exhales heavily. “I see I’m not going to change your mind so why don’t I make us breakfast.”
“That’ll be great. Thanks, Mom.”
I wash up while she busies herself in the kitchen. Bracing my hands on the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror.
I am a Lost Soul, and nothing is going to change it. I’ve learned the hard way what the cost of having enemies is and I’ll have my eyes wide open next time. Jogging down the stairs, I follow the smell of egg and bacon and take my place at the table.
“I have to know one thing.” I nod and she goes on to ask, “This club of yours, do they take mothers sons and keep them locked up, making their loved ones believe they’re dead?”
I’m sure they would if they had to, but for her sake, I shake my head. “No, Mom. We’re not like that.”
“Okay. That’s good,” she mutters. “Another thing, I want a phone call every day. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come over to that club and make a scene.”
I would have laughed before but the situation is too raw at the moment, so I agree.
I eat and without seeming like I’m running, I let myself out after one last hug, and I see Luca sat on his motorcycle at the end of the street.
“How did it go?” he asks when I approach him.
“About as well as you’d expect.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth, leaving out a few details.”
“I get that she’s your mom, but can she be trusted with our truths?”
“Yes, she knows the consequences I’ll have to face.”
He nods and jerks his chin to the van parked behind him.
“Jump in, he’ll take you back to the club.”