30. Colson
THIRTY
COLSON
Old text messages…
Violet: Out of my mind missing you today.
Colson: If anyone is out of their mind, it’s me.
Colson: Completely fucking crazy about you.
Violet: You like me that much, huh?
Colson: You don’t even know.
My cell lights up my face, making the ache in my forehead worsen. Last night’s fight was my first loss. I made the wrong move, didn’t watch my balance as well as I should have, and lowered my fists at the perfect time for my opponent to knock the wind out of me. He also got me in the side of my head.
For a split second during the fight, I wondered if I’d see brown eyes when I looked up. A tiny part of me hoped I would.
It was enough for the dude to gain leverage. I’ve had a persistent pain in my head ever since. I’ve also had this nagging voice telling me to reach out to my girl. To respond to the text she sent me this morning, but I haven’t pulled the trigger on it. I don’t know if I should.
Actually, no, I do know.
I shouldn’t .
I lied to her for the duration of our relationship. I’m in no better headspace than I was the day Mom died. I’ve collected all my mental shit in a black garbage bag and shoved it into a hole under the floorboards where I can’t see or deal with it.
I want to lick my wounds in peace, without the sight of Violet’s disappointment looking back at me. Though, that proves difficult because I see it every time I close my eyes.
I hate how much my need to see her has grown since the candy warehouse incident. Since she showed up to my fight and was kept warm by Finn’s stupid fucking sweatshirt. I should’ve ripped it off her and tugged mine over her head instead. I should’ve pulled my head out of my ass and begged her for more than what she gave me. I should’ve gotten down on my hands and knees and requested forgiveness.
My stomach clenches, but I don’t pay it much mind. I’ve gotten used to ignoring the underlying effects of my emotions. The physical symptoms that push in when I don’t deal with what’s going on inside.
Most importantly, I can’t let her distract me. My focus needs to be elsewhere, like my fight tonight.
Tommy put me on the schedule despite the hits I took last night. Said it was my punishment, that the only way to learn the lesson of winning and earning him his money was to get back out there. When one of the guys spoke up about a possible head injury, he brushed it off. Said if I didn’t want to worry about head injuries, that I should’ve never let my guard down to begin with.
I’m slowly learning that he might be a little fucked up. But it’s also something to admire. Having that kind of conviction and tenacity with his fighters is exactly what makes them the best. What makes me the best. So, I shrugged it off and agreed to show up.
It’s not like I have anything better to do.
Though, tonight, we’re not convening at the candy warehouse. Someone ran their mouth and blew our cover. Tonight’s location is being kept secret until an hour before the fights. Once the text comes through, I’ll grab my shit and head out.
Until then, past me criticizes present me to make an appearance at my aunt and uncle’s. I read over Violet’s text one last time, pretend I answer, then shove my phone deep into my pocket. I head to the kitchen, grab a banana and protein bar, and leave through the front, driving in the direction of Chatham Hills.
I pull into the long driveway outside of the Rodriguez household. Their brick house sits back on an acre and a half of land. The Christmas tree shines through the big bay windows in the front, and when I get out and walk across the front pathway to the door, I swear the smell of big happy smiles and warm delicious pie swirls in the air.
I walk through the front door without so much as a knock, like I’ve always done, and find Sebastian and his parents in the great room with A Christmas Story on the big screen. My cousin gives me a glance and, I’ll be damned, even nods his chin in greeting. We haven’t seen each other since the hand-around-the-neck incident, but it nearly turns me into a puddle because what kind of asshole would do such a thing?
My aunt and uncle would be horrified if they knew what happened that day.
Uncle Thad notices me next and motions for me to find a seat on the oversized sectional. I’m hesitant at first because I’m still pissed over what transpired at their lawyer’s office. I’m beyond hurt that my own aunt kept my father from me. That all these years, I could’ve avoided a lot of wondering had she stayed out of it or, at the very least, told me.
The next hour passes with me watching the movie with them. We don’t chat. Don’t interrupt what the actors say or do.
As much as I want to feel out of place, I don’t. This house has always felt like home. It’s always been a safe haven from the chaos in and around my life. Even with everything going on, it’s easy to melt into the couch and pretend like life is fine and dandy. I know I’ll have to tear myself away at the end of the night. Right back into the shitstorm. To Mom being gone. To The Battleground. To ruining my relationships with the people I love.
When the credits start rolling, Aunt Bess is the first to make a move. She walks over to the tree, snatches a gift under it, and places it in my lap on her way back over to Uncle Thad. “We didn’t know what to do for you this year. I think all of us have been a little scrambled, but it’s something.”
“You didn’t have to do this.” My eyes catch on the envelope taped to the small rectangular box. I don’t want to know what’s inside.
“We wanted to, Colson,” she says. “Open it. Please.”
All eyes are on me as I push my finger under one of the corners of the paper and tear it. My hands go clammy when I flip the gift over, yank off the rest of the paper and see Mom.
It’s only a picture, but fuck. She looks so young in it. Her smile is stretched wide, and her palm is splayed out on her round belly. There are crinkles next to her eyes from elation. Most of all, she looks healthy .
My eyes sting with sadness, with happiness, with every fucking emotion under the sun. I miss her, and no one knows how badly I wish I could’ve gotten this version of her. The clean version. The version that was free-spirited and carefree, yes, but also loved and cared for those around her.
For me.
“Janie always did what she wanted, even back then, but she was close to her true self there. It’s the oldest photo I have of her looking that way.” Aunt Bess explains. “I wish we all would’ve gotten more of that.”
I trace my thumb over her face.
“I think that’s how we should remember her. How she looks in that picture. So happy and excited for the future. She was seven months pregnant with you, and…” She clears her throat, and I know seeing her is getting to her. “And she was just so excited to meet you.”
I’d do anything to make this picture reality. To transform her from paper to person. It’s a stab to the chest knowing I can’t. Knowing that I miss her so goddamn much but can’t do a thing about it.
Her reliance on her addiction was always the most important thing in the room. All the times she shoved me to the side, didn’t fill the house with groceries, or made me feel a certain way. Now that she’s gone, none of that seems to matter as much.
In a sad, fucked up way, I sort of wish I was still dealing with all of it. Because if I were, it would mean I’d still have her.
Now I’m alone in the trenches.
“Thank you,” I mutter, pressing a knuckle to my eyelid and swiping the wetness away. I don’t look my aunt or uncle in the eye as I ball up the wrapping paper and set it to the side.
“There’s more,” Uncle Thad announces. “In the envelope.”
I dip my chin and open that, too. It’s your standard holiday card. I flip it open, bypass the cheesy heartfelt poem and see a check.
Each line has Uncle Thad’s scripted handwriting, and in the little rectangular box on the right is a one with four zeros behind it.
I look up at them— What the fuck? —then back down to the check. “What’s this?”
Aunt Bess sighs. “It’s what you used to pay off your mother’s debt with Clyde. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that on your own. I wish you wouldn’t have been so scared to come to us. And since you won’t be receiving her inheritance, we thought it’d be nice for you to have it back.”
I snap the card closed and just like that her words stir a tsunami inside me. Water pelts my skin. Anxiety builds in my chest. “I don’t want this.”
Aunt Bess looks taken aback. Uncle Thad sits forward on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. Sebastian is so damn quiet I forget he’s in the room with us.
“What do you mean?” asks my aunt, taking offense.
“I mean exactly what I just said…I don’t want it.” My jaw clenches. I’m pissed all over again at her for keeping shit from me. But how upset am I allowed to be? We both kept stuff from each other. That doesn’t keep me from saying, “You can’t buy my forgiveness. You can’t give me a check for ten grand after the news drops that you paid Clyde to stay away from me all these years.” My voice cracks, but fuck it. “I could’ve had a father figure in my life, but you kept that from me.”
“She did it to keep you safe,” my uncle says in that deep yet reserved voice of his.
“No she didn’t. She did it for herself.”
“Had I not done it, he would’ve eventually swooped in and convinced you to get into that lifestyle of his,” she explains despite the hurt written in her eyes.
“How do you figure?” My brows pull tight. “He wanted nothing to do with me, anyway. Hell, maybe he would’ve stayed away entirely on his own.”
She shakes her head as if she doesn’t believe that to be true. “Maybe when you were smaller, but then he would’ve pounced on you. He would’ve dug his claws in and hooked you.”
I look at her. “I don’t understand how you’re so sure knowing what he would’ve done.”
“I know because it’s what happened with your mom. With Finn as well.”
I blink. “What are you talking about?”
Ever since I can remember, Finn always leaned into his upbringing. He was calloused long before we ever hit adulthood. Clyde's lifestyle was imprinted on him the second he was born. So what the fuck is Aunt Bess going on about? Why is she talking about them like she’s been in their lives all these years?
Like she knows them.
What else is she keeping from me?
“Finn’s mom fell pregnant with him months before your mom found out she was having you. He had a reputation for cheating when we were in high school and ran around on Janie, which is why I never cared for him much. I bumped into Finn’s mom once years later in Harrison Heights. At the grocery store on the corner near your mom’s.”
I huff out an exasperated breath. “Wow, every time I see you, I learn something new.”
“It was one of the times your mom just got out of rehab. I brought her home and stopped there before getting on the 401 to come home. You and Finn were young, but she warned me that while Clyde might not have wanted you then, that he had plans to recruit you for his drug running once you were old enough to take care of yourself. She told me that he’d sweep in, put on his charm long enough to convince you, and that’d be that. She was sick over him already having an influence on Finn at the time.” My aunt purses her lips. “I wasn’t going to risk the same thing happening to you. I wasn’t going to risk losing you, Colson.”
“So that was that? You just believed every word she was saying to be true?”
“You might not understand it, but she was coming to me as a mother, as a nurturer. I could tell she had already lost her baby boy to Clyde’s money-hungry greed and illegal activities. The look on her face when she spoke to me…she was grieving the loss of a son she never truly had but had to raise each and every day, anyway.”
“That doesn’t make what you did okay.”
“I didn’t say that it did, but I wanted the best for you, so I did what I thought was right at the time. I did what I thought would keep you safe because your mom was already long gone by then. She didn’t care enough to keep you out of trouble, so I did it for her. It’s what family does.”
I don’t know what to trust.
What to believe.
I look down at the check again. I think about the money she must’ve handed over to Clyde to keep him at bay. I think about all the missed opportunities. Of what it would have been like to have a dad to turn to growing up. All the things I should have had but never got.
I reconsider the few interactions I’ve had with Clyde. I imagine the hardness in his stare when Finn nearly drove me off the road near the battery plant. I hear his cold voice in the back of the car before Finn broke my finger. And I hear his condescending tone in Stewart’s office. The way he was so sure of himself. The fact that he didn’t give a damn that he was taking something that wasn’t his. That he did it in a way that proved his lack of conscience.
I think about his love for money and how Aunt Bess might be right. It’ll always overshadow his care for me. Beyond that, part of me wants to forgive her for doing what she did. But then the other part is still so damn pissed over her ripping that choice out of my hands when I was so little. For never giving me the chance to make my own decision on the matter.
“It wasn’t right,” is what I murmur next. “None of that should’ve happened.”
She scoots to the edge of her seat. “It shouldn’t have, but it did. I understand that it might take time for you to forgive me. It’s difficult to process, but always know that I did it for your own well-being. I did it because I love you. And yes, I also did it selfishly because I wanted you in our lives. I didn’t want to risk that being taken from you or us.”
She stands then, walks over to me, and leans down to wrap her arms around my shoulders. Like the asshole I’ve been lately, I don’t hug her back, but that doesn’t stop her from whispering, “Merry Christmas,” into my ear. Then she rounds the sectional and disappears up the staircase.
Uncle Thad follows her a moment later, but not before giving me a comforting shoulder squeeze to scare away all the doubt I’m treading.
The water is so close to my mouth, I can sense the sharp twinges of pain that’ll come when it enters my lungs. I never expected so much turmoil out of Mom’s death, but it literally ripped the rug out from under us. I think we’ve all felt like our feet have been in the air ever since.
Is it always going to be like this?
Am I always going to feel so out of control, so empty, so alone ? Or will a time come when the tides turn and the water spits me out?
Sebastian moves to a sitting position once his dad leaves the room. “Surprised you even decided to show.”
“You’re not the only one.”
There were a handful of moments I wondered if showing my face was worth it.
“How’ve you been?” he asks.
This awkward tension zips through the room. It’s sporadic and doesn’t flow in a straight line. I know I need to address that night, to apologize for the shitty way I handled myself.
I turn my face in his direction but don’t look him in the eye. “I shouldn’t have put my hands on you.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah, I did,” I admit.
“Do you feel like shit about it?”
“More than you know.”
He slaps his hands against his thighs and stands. “I guess we have nothing to worry about then.”
I glance up. “Seriously? You’re letting it go that easily?”
He shrugs. “If you’re apologizing, it means you regret it ever happening. Besides, I fucked up, too. I shouldn’t have egged you on like I did. I should’ve kept Violet’s name out of my mouth even though you were insistent on pushing her away.”
I was insistent on pushing her away.
I still am.
Even though she’s taken away my ability to keep her close.
Sebastian’s taunting from back then bothers me all the same. His words curl around me but instead of making me angry, they just make me feel pathetic. So damn pathetic that I have to rub my palm against my chest to shoo away the ache.
“You fix things with her yet?” Sebastian prods, pulling me from his taunting jabs that night.
“No.”
“You should if you know what’s good for you.”
I shake my head. “She knows everything that went down. The shit with Finn and Mom’s dealings with him and Clyde. I kept it from her, and she’s pissed over it.”
“She cares about you too much to allow herself to stay pissed at you for long.”
Thoughts of Violet push into my head. All the time I’ve spent with her. Getting to wake up with her each morning with my arm around her waist. Feeling her silky skin against mine. Tasting her. Comforting her. Consuming her.
Loving her .
How she gave me it all straight back. How she always knew when to say things and when to offer me silence. How she’d trail her fingertip up my stomach and over my shoulders when we’d lay our sweaty bodies back on her sheets after taking everything we could from one another.
She’s only ever been my truest and safest space, and my heart knows that as it twinges with sharp steadfast palpitations. And then it falls to the pit in my stomach because I know— it knows—that Sebastian is wrong.
I’ve already lost her.