23. Axel
Axel
“ W hy don’t you tell me something I don’t know, then?” She says it so confidently, I’m not sure if she actually wants to know something about me or if she’s just being flippant.
We’ve spent years at odds with each other and I used to think it was because she had a perfect life, but the more I see her, the more I realize she’s about as far from perfect as a person can get. She’s not as far away as I am, but she’s pretty fucking close.
“What is it that you think you want to know?” I ask, a tiny fragment of my brain hoping it wasn’t just a rhetorical question.
“Wait.” She sticks a finger in the air to silence me. “First, tell me… did you have something to do with the hospital system coming back up? You said you were fixing it . Is that what you were fixing?”
I should draw this out a little more, but she’s clearly been through enough today.
“Yeah, that was me.” It’s all I give her and all she gives back is a slight nod accompanied by a slow blink.
I know it’s as close to a thank you as she’ll give me.
Deep down I have no doubt she still hates me despite this thing that transpired but it’s clear neither of us knows how to process any of it.
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“Why do you care, Wrinley?” I snap.
She pauses, no doubt searching her brain for the answer.
“Maybe I don’t fucking care, Axel ,” she admits, spitting my name with just enough contempt to cut right where she intended.
I’d almost prefer she took an actual knife to my skin and I’m pretty sure it would sting less than the tone of her voice.
But then that tone shifts into something considerably less…
sharp. “I think I mostly just need to fill the silence because the alternative is, well… worse. And also not something I really care for you or anyone else to really witness.”
I don’t respond, and neither does she for what feels like an hour. For someone that’s looking to fill silence, she’s doing a shit job.
When she finally does speak again, shock rolls through me for the first time in my life. “Maybe we could call a truce?”
Jesus, are we in fifth grade all of a sudden? I turn to look at her, my head tilted slightly and a brow quirked at her suggestion that she so cleverly posed as a question. “A truce?”
“Yeah. You know… a cease fire,” she mutters quietly.
Her bottom lip is stuck between her teeth and all it does is scratch at the part of my lizard brain that would love nothing more than to rip it from her teeth with my own.
“Honestly, I’m over this day. Can we just pretend like we’re capable of tolerating each other’s presence for a bit?
I promise we can go back to hating each other soon.
Unless you’d rather go. I can always get a rideshare to take dad home. ”
My eyes snap from her lips to her bloodshot eyes, the color now more like a sunburst than their usual greenish gold.
“You’ll do no such fucking thing,” I snarl. “I’ll wait with you and drive you both home.”
“Thought so.” The smirk that paints her lips as she says those two words only serves to make me want to do very non-truce-like things to her. To punish her for her impertinence.
“Apparently your possession extends beyond my body.”
She really has no fucking clue.
“You’re a fucking brat. You know that, right?”
She shrugs, completely unbothered by my assessment of her. “Do we have a deal?” Her hand extends an invitation to accept and I reach mine out to meet it halfway.
“So… where were we?” She bounces slightly in her seat like a school girl waiting to hear the latest juicy gossip. She’ll be waiting a while, because nothing I have to say is pleasant or fun. “Oh yes. You were about to tell me where you learned your fancy computer stuff.”
I sigh, but regard her for a moment. Could she really be interested in my past?
In anything about me? My sister is the only one that has ever asked, but I’m not convinced she really cares.
This girl–woman–sitting in front of me, taped together after being pulled apart and wracked with anxiety, panic and fear of losing her father… she acts like she cares.
“How do you do that?” I ask. “Go from being in pieces, sobbing on the floor to having a smile on your face.”
Her smile falls and her eyes find the ground at my question. “I–”
I take her chin in my fingers and bring her back to me. Forcing her to look at me. “I know you’re trying to think of a lie, but I want the truth. You want info from me. Tell me this.”
“I–” A lone tear escapes to roll down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it and straightens her spine. “I’ve just become good at shoving it all down. I’m practically an expert now, I guess. I’m at my best when I’m strong and brave for other people. It’s my one special skill.”
Jesus Christ, she’s more broken than I thought.
“One special skill? I can think of at least three special skills you have and one of them isn’t even sexual.
” That earns a genuine smile from her and the sight triggers an unfamiliar heaviness that bears down on my chest. I’m not about to tell her, but I might like it when her face does that.
“You keep evading my question. Why are you so afraid to tell me about your past?” My eyes widen at her bravery. Cheeky, sassy Wrinley is clearly bubbling back up to the surface.
“You should consider yourself lucky we’re in a truce, or you’d be paying for that mouth of yours,” I threaten. “Hell, you still might.”
“Well–” she folds her arms across her chest and taps her fingers exaggeratedly against her biceps. “I’m waiting.”
“Spain, alright. I learned the ‘fancy computer stuff’ in Spain.”
Her fingers stop and she sits a little straighter. “Is that where you were all those years?” Little does she know, I was back long before she realized, but that’s also not something I’m about to share with her.
Spain - 9 Years Ago
“Bienvenido, senor,” the hotel desk clerk greets me. I know a little bit of Spanish, enough to get by in very basic instances, but I don’t know enough to hold a conversation.
“No hablo espanol.”
“Oh, no worries, Sir. I never know these days, who does and who doesn’t. Thankfully, I was able to take some classes, so I can communicate in more than one language now. Here is your room key. You’re in room 242. Please let us know if you need anything.”
I nod and offer her as polite of a smile as I can physically muster. “Thanks.”
By the time I make it to my room, the jet lag has nearly consumed me and I flop on the bed fully clothed to sleep it off. Before I drift off, I shoot off a text.
ME: Don’t forget what you promised me.
DOM: I’ve got you brother. Have I ever let you down?
ME: Actually, yes. Do you recall what happened when we were 17?
DOM: Shit. That was one time and you said you forgave me, dickhead.
ME: Forgiving and forgetting are two very different things.
DOM: Fuck off, Axel. I’ll make sure she’s safe. I promise.
As soon as I took Arabella home from her best friend’s mother’s funeral, I bought a ticket. There’s something about watching someone lose a parent that pulls at you to figure out your own shit. Which brings me here.
To Spain.
Where my piece of shit sperm donor currently resides.
I’ve known he was here for the past few years, but never felt the need to do anything with that information until now. My sister doesn’t know he’s here and now, no one knows I’m here because I’m not doing this for her or anyone else.
I’m doing this for me.
A knock at the door wakes me and I glance at the clock on the nightstand to see it’s almost ten in the morning.
“Limpieza!” a woman yells through the door.
I need to take a fucking class because I have no clue what she’s saying.
I make my way to the door and open to see a woman dressed in what is clearly housekeeping attire. Got it.
“No, gracias,” I tell her, grateful I have at least a few words up my sleeve.
My phone dings on the nightstand with a message and I pick it up to see it’s from my contact.
MR. S: While you’re here, I could use your help with a few things.
I’ve been utilizing the dark web for resources to teach myself how to hack anything I can get my hands on.
I’ve always been good with computers, so trying to use that skill to my advantage was an obvious career choice.
It didn’t take me long to realize, there’s only so much you can learn on the fucking internet, even when you’re in the darkest corners of it.
I came across Mr. S about six months ago and to this day, he won’t tell me his actual name, which I guess makes sense since he knows me as Ben instead of Axel.
Let’s face it. If he knows I’m here, he also knows my real name and he’s even better than I thought.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know he’s not a good person, but neither am I.
He’s shared his tricks with me but I’ve always known that well was only so deep. I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows I’m here or that he is also here. It’s not why I came, but I’m sure as hell going to take advantage of the opportunity.
ME: When?
MR. S: Now. I just sent you the location. Are you in?
ME: Yeah, I’ll be there in 30
Four Years Later
“Hola, Senor Bradley,” Vanessa chirps from the front desk. “Your mail arrived. It’s not much so I figured I’d just give it to you when I saw you.”
“Gracias, Vanessa.”
“No problem. Oh, and your new lease is ready if you want to sign it now.”
“Si,” I tell her, plastering a fake smile on my face. My body hurts and I need a shower.
“It’s been four years. Are you sure you don’t want me to get you some local housing listings? There are some really nice places that are in very… discrete neighborhoods.”
I sign the paper she handed me and glance up at her. She’s clearly not stupid. “No thank you. You all take such good care of me here. I’m fine.”
She gives me a quick nod and I head back to my room.
I’ve spent the last four years doing the opposite of what I came here for and I’m getting more and more irritable by the day.
I have ten times the amount of skill that I had when I got here, and I know some Spanish now, but Shane still needs me for a couple more jobs.
I’ve assured him, he only gets two more and I’m out.
I’ve taken to adding to my tattoo collection to pass the time and I’m running out of arm real estate.
Once I’m showered, I dress, throw on my leather jacket to head back out to finally do the thing I fucking came here to do.
I hop on my bike and maneuver my way onto the autovías, zipping between cars for miles until I reach my exit. Another mile down the road, I spot the local cocina, nestled behind some trees, almost out of view.
Pulling in, I drop the kickstand and wander inside. I’m immediately greeted by a man that looks to be American. He’s changed but also still familiar. His crows feet and leathered skin tell me he’s had a hard life, despite how peaceful this place seems.
The man regards me for a moment, but doesn’t speak. Instead, it’s me that breaks the silence.
“Hi, Dad.”
The raise of his brows and widening of his eyes tell me he remembers exactly who I am. But then his face falls. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong guy.”
“I think you and I both know that I don’t.”
“Say you’re right. What is it that you think is going to come of this? I don’t have any money.”
The nerve of this fucking prick.
“I don’t want your fucking money.”
He reaches out and grabs my shirt in his fists.
“Then what the fuck is it that you want? Huh? I don’t have a fucking thing to give you.
Your goddamn waste of space of a mother sucked it all out of me and there’s nothing even left for me, let alone you.
The best thing I ever did was leave.” He spits the words with venom and it’s clear this man is happier without us.
“Better for who? Don’t you think your daughter would be better off with her father in her life? You left us to fend for ourselves with that piece of shit that calls herself a mother. How is that even remotely fucking better?”
He releases me and takes a step back, his expression now flat. “You should go. I don’t have to explain myself to you. Besides, you definitely have the wrong person. I don’t have any children. My family died years ago.”
Then he grabs a broom, starts sweeping and walks away like it never happened.
Present Day
“I packed my shit and caught a red eye home after that. It wasn’t that long after that, I ran into you.”
“Oh, Axel,” Wrinley mumbles, placing her hand on my thigh. I can hear the pity in her voice and it’s the last thing I need right now.
“Don’t,” I stop her. “Don’t pity me. I’m better off without that piece of shit. If anything, having two shit parents has cemented my lack of wanting a family of my own, firmly in place.” She removes her hand from my leg and I itch to move it back.
She still wears her pity all over her face at my admission.
“You don’t ever want children?”
Fuck.
I want to tell her I’m destined to fuck up the lives of any offspring I have. So no, I don’t want them. Except I’ve done things that would contradict that want. But maybe that’s just my way of creating the exact scenario I’ve worked so hard to avoid all my life.
“No, I don’t.” My answer is simple, to the point and hopefully she doesn’t push, because I definitely don’t want to talk about it anymore.
“Okayyyyy,” she draws out the word and I don’t miss the discomfort in her tone. “So this all explains why you keep spitting out words in Spanish when you’re inside me, I suppose. Care to tell me what they mean?”
“If you want to know so bad, look them up.”
“Hey, we’re supposed to be in a ceasefire, don’t get sassy with me.”
I crack my neck. It’s loud and offensive and her head flies back as she flinches at the sound. “I suggest you watch your tone. Once this little truce is over, if you think I won’t remember everything you did or said when you thought we were on level playing ground, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Thankfully, she retreats to meddle with her phone. I’m starting to regret this truce. It’s all too polite and… nice. Nice makes my skin crawl.
“Miss Jaymes,” a voice calls from across the lobby. “You can see your father now.”