Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
First thing Monday morning I call Leo and explain my situation, telling him it’s unclear when or if I’ll be back, as shitty as that is to do.
It goes against my moral code to leave him in a lurch, but I’d already given him my two-week notice.
Hopefully I’ll be back in a few days and depart the way I planned.
Regardless, he’s empathetic and reassuring, graciously letting me off the hook.
I fill Remy in too, because he’s the only human being who will understand what a shitbath I’m in.
He doesn’t offer meaningless platitudes, just urges me to hang tough and asks how he can help.
My only request is talking to Jax for me.
It’s a chickenshit move, but I’m so fucked up, I need time to get my head right and grasp how this affects me.
Her. Us. I trust Remy to do this. He’s always been my best wingman. Thank fuck for that.
Everything goes to complete and utter shit within three days.
My father has open heart surgery—and survives.
Erica leaves, saying she can’t do “this” anymore, meaning can’t take care of an abusive man she deplores. Join the fucking club.
Graham returns to Cal Poly because he can’t miss any more classes.
And Townshend has a wife and new baby at home, not to mention a job. He gave me a whole spiel.
“Mick, you’re the only one who isn’t tied down right now. You can be here to manage this. Whether the piece of shit deserves it or not, you’re all he has, the only one to advocate for his medical care. You’ve got to do this, man. I’ll lend a hand when I can.”
I may not be tied down, but it’s not like I don’t have fucking plans or a life. I’m supposed to be in Florida in nine days.
Now I’m left holding this smelly bag of dung.
Despite the intolerable stench of it, I won’t abandon my father. What kind of person would I be if I did? Not one who could live with himself. Bill Callahan taught me how to be the man I don’t want to be, but my mother helped teach me the opposite.
It’s a massive, life-sucking sacrifice.
But I can’t deny my brothers sacrificed over the years, protecting me when they could, taking the brunt of Dad’s crap some of the time. I guess it’s my turn to ante up.
Maybe I can set the old man up in a facility or with nursing and be on my way. Whatever the case, I’m stuck here until I’m not.
My heart sinks, my gut twisting over this whole tragic circumstance that’s derailing everything I want.
I’m sure as hell not dragging Jax into it.
She’s the kind of person who will drive out here and try and help, cheer me up, hold my hand.
But I can’t—won’t—expose her to Bill Callahan for one second.
His toxic abuse will never touch her. Never.
She deserves a call from me—at the very least—but every cell resists. I’m not myself. Not even close. My body is like a tightly coiled spring ready to spew all the anger and venom churning inside if triggered. Aside from my father, I can’t risk subjecting her to me right now.