2. Gator #6
I shoot back the rest of my bourbon before setting the glass on the table.
With everything going on, I’m still sober as a gofer.
I was hoping to fix that before heading home to pass out for the night.
But it looks like my new stepmother needs comfort, and that’s going to have to be on me right now.
Married in the eyes of the law or not, that is what she is in the eyes of the club, my father’s wife.
“Yeah, you did, momma bear. You did good, darlin. It was you or her. You know that, right?” She nods frantically, tears in her eyes.
Most of the guys here have killed someone, but she doesn’t need to know that.
What I can do is share a little of my truth so she knows she isn’t alone.
“You’re not the only one on this couch who’s killed someone.
You’re not a monster or anything, okay? The cops watched the video tape, and it was labeled as self-defense.
You defended yourself. It might take a while, mama bear, but you’ll get on the other side of this.
” I say the words, trying like hell to give her some comfort.
I recognize her helplessness, but my words seem to ease some of her guilt.
Healing from this trauma will take time.
As I continue to offer support, subtle signs of hope appear.
After years of wearing the mask I’ve worn for the rest of the world to keep from worrying those I love, I see it beneath hers.
I see the fear and debilitating sorrow she is trying to mask, because I’m doing the same.
“I can’t be here without them right now, Trey.
Will you take me back up to the hospital?
” I know what it’s like to be separated from the person you love with your entire being and feel helpless.
I nod in understanding and prepare to take her back up to the hospital, where she may be able to get some sleep in the chair next to my father.
Some sleep for Allie, after recovering from her emergency C-section, in a chair next to my father has to be better than nothing.
Knowing the only way she will be able to relax is next to my pops, I agree to take her back up to the hospital.
“Yeah, let me tell some of the brothers where I’m going.
We can take my truck.” I reach for Allie’s hand and squeeze it.
I take a page from Rock’s book, using the same words he told me.
“It’s going to be okay, Allie. We’re Andersons; all we know how to do is fight.
” I hesitate for a beat, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on both of us, our shared grief and duty binding us together in the shadowy glow of the lamp on the end table in the living room.
I reach for my kutte and keys, glancing back at her as she gathers herself, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of my father’s hoodie she’s wearing. It swallows her down to her knees.
“I’ll leave you there for the night. Someone will come get you in the morning.
Two patched members are already standing guard outside the room,” I murmur, my voice low and steady.
“I’ll head up with you for a minute before coming back here.
After the evening I’ve had, I need to lay eyes on my old man, too.
” Allie lets out a shaky breath, nods, and we step out into the quiet night.
The drive is long and silent, with headlights carving a narrow path down the highway through the darkness. No music plays, and both of us are lost in our own thoughts. My hands tighten on the steering wheel as a thousand regrets and hopes swirl inside me.
At the hospital, the fluorescent lights are harsh, and the antiseptic smell is stifling.
We check in and make our way to the intensive care wing.
I clasp the hands of the brothers guarding my father and give them a quick back slap as we step in front of my father's room.
I step into the room and see my father motionless yet still fighting, with the machines keeping him alive.
Every time I step into this room, the image is jarring.
The man who was larger than life, now reduced to a machine keeping him alive, is one I’m not sure I’ll ever forget.
He’s almost too big for the bed, but in this moment, he looks vulnerable, which, after idolizing this man my whole life, sends my world upside down.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him in this hospital bed, but it doesn’t get any easier.
If anything, it only reminds me how serious this is.
Allie slips quietly into the chair by his side, her hand finding his, her presence steady and sure.
I stand for a long moment at the foot of the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, promising myself and him I’ll hold everything together until he’s back.
I have a son he may never meet. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes as the weight piles on.
I blink a few times, clearing them and stuffing my emotions back down where they came from.
I stand with him a few more moments, listening to the silence the machines cut through.
It’s a sound you try to tune out, but you’re never quite successful.
I watch the rise and fall of his chest as I think about all the advice and encouragement, he would be giving me right now if he could speak to me.
I let the words I know he would say to me bring me comfort as I wrap my head around a game plan for the morning with Emma and Fijor, not to mention Beaver and the club.
I feel like I’m being attacked from all angles right now, and I can’t quite get my footing.
If my father were awake, I know he’d tell me to stop being a pussy, lace up my boots, and handle my shit.
There's no time for emotion when you’re at war.
Make no mistake. By tomorrow, a war will be brewing on all fronts.
No one threatens mine and gets away with it.
Having a silent conversation with my father's sleeping form brings me more peace than I expected. Eventually, I slip out into the hallway, my phone buzzing with missed calls and messages from the club. There’s still so much to do.
As I head back toward the compound, I know that come morning, nothing will ever be quite the same, but I’ll be ready. Whatever it takes, I’ll be ready.