Chapter 6 – Tylee
Chapter Six
Tylee
Selma Sinclair adds a helping of whiskey to my coffee that she insists will help me feel better.
I’ve had plenty of whiskey since I made my way up to her place and none of it has helped in the slightest. The only good thing about being here is that nobody will suspect it.
Selma hates my guts because she, and I quote, “never met a red-headed bitch she liked”.
It has something to do with the fact that the chick who married Bench after her divorce had red-hair.
It’s all stupidly complicated, but Bench was my father-in-law and he died when the clubhouse burned down. Or maybe he was shot since we’ll never really be able to tell.
“Hurry up and drink that before the kids wake up.”
“I’m still nursing Aimee.”
“I’ll make her some formula. What about breakfast for Kyler and Max?”
My mother in law is a piece of work, but at least she has a chance of getting through to the bikers about my rights within this club. I had an artist do the line work for me, but Isaac chose to tattoo me and it says right on my right thigh just beneath my ass cheek: Property of Ghost.
I’m his old lady. I fought my entire life to be with that man and I won’t let him take my kids away from me and run off to get hitched to some hot piece of ass he meets at a gas station or something.
I won’t have some other woman living in a house with my kids and making them breakfast or any of that shit.
“They’re kids. They can have cereal,” I snap at her with more irritation than she deserves. “I need a cigarette, not whiskey.”
“You need to go back to Isaac and beg him to take you back.”
Selma is too old-fashioned for her own good sometimes.
“I did. I know he’s screwing around on me.
That’s why he…” My lower lip trembles. I grew up with brothers and had to learn quickly how to get out of situations without getting hit.
“He told me he wanted nothing to do with me and the kids. That new girl probably doesn’t even want kids and he doesn’t give a shit about us. ”
“Men are more selfish than women,” Selma says, tipping her whiskey brazenly into a shot glass. “It’s pretty much science.”
“I know. Please, Selma. I need your help. I know you didn’t raise a monster.”
“Damn right, I didn’t. But it’s that club, Tylee. It’s that damned club.”
Selma blames the club for losing Bench to Caitlin. I can’t speculate as to why Isaac’s father abandoned his family for another woman, but I can use it to my advantage.
“It’s the same thing with Bench. He met another whore and left you behind. And you really loved him, didn’t you?”
“I still have that stupid fucking tattoo,” Selma says, her eyes welling with tears.
“Cigarette?” I ask her. She fights back her tears, handing one over without questioning me again so that she can focus on hiding her vulnerability.
“He was supposed to buy me a 5,000 square foot house and he gambled all the money away. He’s a fucking asshole.”
“Language.”
“Sorry,” I say to Selma with a smile. “Mind if I smoke this on the porch? You can get the kids up if you want to make them breakfast.”
“Sure, Tylee. Take a load off. I’ll get the kids.”
I don’t feel free until I’m sitting on the front steps of Selma’s double-wide trailer.
Bench gave her plenty of money to get a house for herself, but she has a little bit of a drinking problem which has caught up to her over the years.
Oh, Selma. She’s easy to understand, honestly.
I don’t want to end up like her, but the longer you stay around those men, the higher chance you have of getting screwed over and left behind.
I’ve seen it happen in my family. I never let Isaac get out of sight much and since we were kids he’s been loyal to me.
It doesn’t mean anything. Men only need the opportunity to break their vows to a woman.
If Isaac had been in my position at any point throughout our relationship, he would have never had the moral fiber to stay loyal.
I don’t believe that for a second. Men are stupid opportunists and right now I have to use that to my advantage.
Fuck, it’s good to have a cigarette and take a break from all the shit going on.
I need to send a few text messages without having Selma breathing down my neck.
I trust her only as much as I need to trust her, honestly.
She really believes in her kids and even if Isaac’s father screwed her over more than anyone else ever has, she still believes in love and marriage.
She doesn’t want me to lose Isaac when it’s always been the other way around: Isaac has always been afraid of losing me. I’m sure right now wherever he is, he regrets not listening to me. When he understands that life without me means seeing his kids once a year at most, he’ll come around.
This whole situation with Damara isn’t worth all the fuss he’s making over it anyways. I open up my phone and type three simple words in.
Tylee: MIL will help.
He takes longer than five minutes to reply, which means I have to slow down on the cigarette.
Selma hates the smoke and I don’t want her coming near me.
Isaac is such a dick for holding the Damara thing over my head, talking all this bullshit about patterns of behavior and how it wasn’t just the one thing.
As if I should just forgive him for gambling and lying about money.
I apologized to Damara, and Magnum doesn’t seem to have a problem with me.
My own husband wants to make a big deal out of it.
Everything makes me an unfit mother, but he can gamble and spend half his time fixing bikes and beating people up – that’s fucking fine.
Finally. My phone buzzes. A rush hits me whenever I see his name pop up on my phone.
Well, his nickname. It feels good to have someone who understands me in a way my husband doesn’t seem to anymore.
It all clicked for me when I listened to Fate of Ophelia for the first time.
If I don’t change something in my life, I’m going to end up another dead biker.
Scum: Perfect.
Scum: When can I see you?
What does he want me to do with that question? If we see each other again, anything could happen. It’s not a good time for me to fall into another entanglement, even if I can keep my feelings out of it.
Tylee: Are you in Joplin?
Scum: St. Louis. Need you.
This reply comes quicker and my heart skips a beat knowing that I have his attention.
I wonder what he’s wearing right now, if anything.
But I’m not sure I want to commit to Saint Louis.
I mindlessly put the tip of my cigarette in my mouth and nearly burst a lung coughing.
I didn’t realize I was finished with it.
Grossed out by the experience, I toss it on the ground and reach around the bottom of the stairs for any secret packs.
Smokes are predictable that way and I find an old pack of Seneca brand cigarettes – most likely from some gas station in Erie, Pennsylvania, so from one of Selma’s other kids. Nothing Isaac smokes or has ever smoked, thank goodness.
My second smoke doesn’t make the answers more forthcoming. I just don’t know what will work. What if Isaac gets a bunch of money from his cousin and that changes things. What if he pulls his head out of his ass and realizes that I’m the best he’s ever going to get?
Keeping my options feels better than tying myself down. If I have to do something about the kids, Selma wouldn’t mind holding onto them for a few months. It might be hard with the little one, but there’s always baby formula. As long as Isaac doesn’t get them.
Tylee: Need to get rid of the kids for the night.
Scum: I don’t care about the kids.
Scum: I want you.
If I convince Selma I’m doing something out of my character but aligned with what she wants from me, she’ll agree to take the kids for the night.
I don’t think they have church services at night or I would pretend to go to one of those.
Maybe I’ll tell her I want to wait tables to earn money for the kids.
It would be reasonable to suggest that the better jobs would be in Saint Louis.
I’m giddy and want to make him wait for a response, but I just can’t.
Tylee: How bad
Scum: Bad enough to burn shit down
Tylee: Ok
Scum: I miss eating your sweet pussy
Tylee: Hot
Scum: Get rid of the kids.
Scum: I need to see you.
Tylee: MIL?
Scum: I don’t care. Get it done.
He’s right. This should be easy. It’s not like I’m leaving the kids by the side of the road. Kids don’t even remember anything that happens when they’re this young. I’ll have to talk to Selma, but I’ve already made up my mind – I’m going to Saint Louis.
Still, I don’t want to encourage Scum to think he can tell me what to do.
The possessive shit pisses me off.
Scum is the type of man I need right now – not Isaac.
Mostly because Scum is here, wants to listen to me, and he doesn’t continuously act like a bug up my ass over being a good mother.
Like all I’m worth is looking after kids and making kids for him.
I don’t seriously think Isaac has been faithful to me all those years we were together.
People make mistakes, which I totally understand.
Isaac can be a real hypocrite about that.
I slept with a couple other guys when we were seniors in high school and he just never let it go.
I only got good enough for him because of practicing with men who understood how to screw without all that overly romantic shit Isaac always wants.
Ugh.
Luckily, I don’t have to think about him tonight. Just how to get to Saint Louis. I’ll know what I want once I get a break from all of this background noise. Scum is a different man from my husband and maybe that’s what I need to start over. Selma can have the kids and I can have… him.
Scum doesn’t want me going back to Isaac or messing with him at all, which I would understand if he was offering me anything other than a ride on the back of his bike and a few other things.
It’s not my fault love is so complicated, you know?
The second cigarette disappears and I can’t hide from Selma for long. She has the kids up by the time I head inside. I put on a big smile when I see them and they look puzzled, but Selma looks happy.
“Hello, my beautiful angels.”
They still look confused, like they want me to look like a bad mom in front of their grandma. I try to hold off a bit.
“I think I’m going to get a job.”
Selma’s grin widens. “That’s great, dear. The boys send enough money for me, but I understand wanting your own independence.”
I wait a beat. “It’s hard after what I’ve been through.”
Selma’s lips flatten with understanding. I’ve told her enough stories about Isaac to fill two whole books of the Bible.
“I’m sorry for what my son put you through.”
“Do you mind looking after the kids tonight? I have a lead on a job waiting tables at some place off Route 66.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Selma says. “I treasure every moment with these kids.”
“Gramma!!!” Kyler says excitedly, taking pieces of goldfish crackers off his plate and stuffing them into his mouth. Selma can get them to do whatever she wants without yelling at them or hitting them, which shocks the hell out of me.
I go over to Aimee and take her into my arms, kissing the top of her head.
“I’ll feed Aimee if you haven’t yet,” I tell her. “I want to spend all the time I can with my babies before this job interview.”
“Do you know when you’ll be back?”
“My friend says I can spend the night with her,” I answer.
Selma nods. “Good. It’s not safe out there for you all alone.”
“Don’t worry,” I respond as Aimee adjusts her position in my arms. “I won’t be alone.”