Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
WES
“I have news.” Mom’s lips slid up into a grin as I entered the kitchen of our house.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Wes! For God’s sake…”
I laughed. “Couldn’t resist.”
Mom had a new boyfriend. Well, Ronny wasn’t new. Even though they’d been dating since Dad died eight years ago, and had been living together here at our house and his place in Deadwood for the past four, to me, Ronny was still the “new boyfriend.”
She was happier than she’d been the last few years of Dad’s life. There was something bubbly and at ease about her, whereas before she’d been more…on edge. On edge all the fucking time.
I grabbed the carton of orange juice from the fridge and drank.
“Wes, take a glass.”
I kept drinking like she knew I would.
She leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms stretched out, her long, manicured fingernails tapping on the surface. “The house got sold.”
My eyes bulged. “It did? That didn’t take long. You got the asking price or?—”
“Better.”
“Better?”
“Three different families wanted the house. There was a bidding war, and we accepted the highest one, of course.”
“That’s terrific.”
“Like I told you, you’re getting half, so now there’s more than we’d hoped. And that house Ronny and I liked? Our bid got accepted this morning.”
“Perfect timing.” I wiped at my mouth.
“I’m very excited about how it all worked out.”
“I’m happy for you, Mom.”
“Thank you, baby. Don’t forget, we have the anniversary party for the shop coming up.”
“How could I forget? I work there and it’s all you talk about.”
“I want to make sure you’ll be there.”
“Of course, I’ll be there.”
Mom was a terrific store manager and a people person. Back in the day, she’d even whipped the One-Eyed Jacks’ strip club into shape when the men had gotten sloppy with it. Now, without a motorcycle club to reign over alongside her old man, the prez, she’d transferred all that energy into her and Ronny’s project: a branch of his famous Deadwood tattoo shop, Trash Ink, here in Meager. A true shared project. Recently the shop underwent a renovation under Mom’s direction and business had picked up even more since.
“It’s a lot of change all at once,” she murmured. “Which was something I was never a fan of, but I’m loving it. Feels good to do new things, to move forward.”
Her feeling good was obvious. She was beaming from every pore. I’d never seen her like that with Dad. I knew she loved him. She worked hard at making it work. One time she’d said to me, “I love him like crazy.” That had fascinated me. Made me curious as to what that “crazy” felt like, what that was. A frenzy of turmoil like she and Dad seemed to be? Or a whirlwind of passion and craving that defied practical logic?
After I’d realized all the shit Dad had put her through, I knew “loving like crazy” was a fucking mistake. Lindy’s cold, tense face from earlier burst into my sightline, and I swept it away with another slug of orange juice.
As I’d grown up, I realized Dad didn’t give Mom much of the attention and affection she craved from him. Yeah, he depended on her, needed her to be his rock, and she loved that, she needed that too. But I began to figure out that the scales in their relationship were always tipped in his favor.
With Ronny, she seemed genuinely content. No more complaining to her friends, no more bitter side remarks or cursing to herself, cursing him. And she and Ronny rarely argued. Sure they had disagreements and hot debates, but gone were the famed Jump and Alicia blow-out battles of yesteryear. That was a whole lot of fucking crazy in my book. I drained the juice carton.
Mom let out a satisfied sigh. “I’m finally ready to let go of this house. It’s time, for both of us, I feel that. To let go of?—”
“Let go of Dad?” I tossed the empty carton in the recycling. “I fucking did that a long time ago.”
“Did you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you’re hanging onto a ghost. To either make yourself feel better or…”
“Or?”
“To make yourself feel bad.”
“Ma, don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m telling you what I see. I’m your mother. I know you like nobody else. When I say “letting go,” I don’t mean cutting your dad out of your heart and your mind or forgetting our memories here in this house as a family. I’m not. I cherish those memories. We built a good life here.”
“Our one and only home.”
“Your dad and I didn’t have a perfect relationship, no news there. But nothing and no one is perfect. Jump was who he was and lived that unapologetically. He loved you and me as much as he knew how. Maybe he didn’t show his love the way I wanted him to, and that hurt. It sucked. But I knew he loved us and that’s the truth, no matter all the shit he got himself into.” She swept a lock of hair from my eyes. “Your father adored you, and nothing can change that. Not ever.”
Yeah, no matter how hard I’ve tried.
“It’s been eight years, baby. He’d want you to get on with your life, to be happy with whatever you do.”
“He sure was good at that, wasn’t he? Plowing ahead, doing whatever he wanted, no guilt, no regrets.”
“Are you getting on with your life?”
“I’m getting on with it every day, Ma. Life’s great, thanks.”
“Is it? College was rough on you. The timing…”
“You disappointed I didn’t bring home straight A’s?”
“Oh, Wes. I only expected you to be responsible and enthusiastic. It was supposed to be the time of your life, but you were dealing with so much that had happened only weeks before. First Dad, and then you and Butler almost getting killed. I really thought that you getting away from here in the aftermath of all that hell was the best thing.”
I took in a deep breath. “I did graduate.” I gestured at my diploma in Graphic Design that she’d immediately framed and hung on the living room wall.
“You did, and I’m proud of you for seeing it through, no matter how tough it was.”
“No matter what my GPA was?”
She planted a kiss on my cheek. “Proud mom here.”
“I am currently using my college skills in two jobs.”
“You sure are.” She grinned at me.
School seemed like a lifetime ago. A blur.
I’d gotten into Arizona State on a partial football scholarship. It was a dream come true. But when Dad had gotten killed the summer after I’d graduated high school, and then weeks later I survived a shootout on the road meant to kill Butler, who I was riding with, that dream started to crumble.
Everything crumbled.
I’d barely paid attention in class and paid more attention to having a good time. But even that “good time” always proved empty. I’d go through periods of I-don’t-give-a-fuck and then dive into bouts of what-the-fuck-am-I-doing, then I’d put in the effort and pull through. Then I’d screw it up all over again, and round and round I’d go.
And my passion for football? Petered out fast. Unlike my classmates, in the last few months of senior year, I didn’t look for a job, I didn’t interview. All I wanted was to get back to Meager. And that’s what I did.
My gaze trailed out the kitchen window to the big backyard that had been my childhood kingdom. “This house was always full of people. The Jacks coming over to eat or watch a game, or you and the old ladies making cocktails in this blender—” I patted the old blender standing on the counter and Mom laughed. “So many birthday parties and barbecues. Us kids running around. Full of laughs and noise and music.” My breath caught in my chest. “Full of all of us.”
Mom joined me against the counter. “Being an army brat, my family never lived in any one house or town for longer than a couple of years at most. When your dad and I bought this house, I was so excited, so determined to make it a real home for us.”
“You did, Ma. You did great.”
She leaned her head against me. “We did it together.”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You deserve your fresh start. I’m glad you and Ronny got your new place.”
“Me too. And now a new family is going to make this house theirs and make their memories. Do me a favor—” She patted me on the chest. “Make time this week to clean out your room, and see what you want to keep.”
I blew out a huff of air. “Let me jot that down in my calendar.”
“Don’t groan, I made it easy for you. I brought up stuff of yours I found in the basement and the attic. I haven’t gone through your closet, that’s for you to do. Let me show you.” She led me up the stairs to my old room.
I hadn’t been in here for a while. Once she’d signed with a realtor, Mom had changed shit around the house and made my room look like a young boy lived there. She knew how to sell the cozy family home vibe.
My old football and dirt bike trophies were on the dresser, whereas I’d stowed them in a box in the attic when I’d left for Arizona. There was a pile of books on the desk, novels I’d read in junior high. Even a mason jar with freshly sharpened pencils and a couple of pens. A new quilt on the bed, not my old faded blue one.
My gaze snagged on my Star Wars poster on the wall that I’d taken down when I hit high school. Hadn’t seen that in ages. Luke Skywalker, lightsaber in hand, looking to prove himself. Looking for his Jedi dad.
How’s that going for you, Luke?
And on the other wall, my framed poster of The Flash. A vintage poster of my favorite superhero Dad had found for me on a run to California when I was little. He was my favorite because Dad used to call me “Flash.”
As a little kid, I was hyper, always running around, could never sit still. Then Dad introduced me to dirt biking and motorcycles, and I fell in love and thereafter zoomed with purpose.
Three jumbo garbage bags stood in the center of the room along with a couple of crates filled with stuffed animals, board games, baseball and football gear, and old car and motorcycle magazines. A sour taste filled my mouth. With a flick of the hand, what had been was now bundled, re-arranged, and classified into garbage, giveaways, or maybes.
Although, I was the one who’d abandoned ship first by moving into an apartment in town once I started working, now the ship was leaving port and moving on.
My hand dug through my hair. Mom had a point. Had I moved on?
“I’ve been decluttering slowly since I put the house on the market, but now we have a closing deadline, so I’d like you to take care of this by the end of the week please.”
“You don’t mess around, Alicia.”
“Do I ever?”
“Never.”
My lungs squeezed together. I had to get out of here. “Got to go.” I zipped up my hoodie and left the room.
“When are you coming back to get this done?” Mom’s voice followed me down the staircase.
I pulled open the front door.
“Wes!”