Tethered Souls

by Beth Flynn

  * * *

  "I love you so much, Mimi," Christian whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

  We were making love. He was on top and inside me, and after a few gentle thrusts he raised up on his elbows and looked down into my eyes.

  "I love you too, Christian," I said while brushing his hair back over his shoulder.

  "You don't seem like yourself. Is everything okay, baby?" His concern reflected back to me in his eyes.

  I looked away and concentrated on his bicep, the muscle bulging under his weight.

  "Is it Nick?" he asked. "If it is, I don’t need my mother's checkbook to get rid of him."

  "It's not Nick," I assured him. The last thing I wanted Christian to do was have another confrontation with him. Especially one that would no doubt send Christian back to prison.

  "Is it what that fossil said about Grizz?"

  He knew me so well. "Maybe," I said, a little sheepishly.

  "You're not evil, Mimi. You’re not Grizz's demon seed." His voice was angry as he slowly removed himself from between my legs and settled down next to me. "And you aren't going to be punished for things he did."

  "I know that," I said, looking over at him. I'd been thinking about how Winifred Truncle had misinterpreted Scripture by insinuating that God would punish Grizz's children for his sins. I knew that wasn't the case so it didn't bother me. But something was itching me and it had nothing to do with Winifred.

  "He looked so young and innocent in that picture," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "And he'd already experienced so many horrors. I wonder if my father would've turned out differently if the old man who’d let him stay at the motel hadn't been a pervert, but someone Grizz could've looked up to?”

  "I guess you'll never know," he quietly whispered.

  "I don't believe he was born evil, Christian. He knew evil because he lived with it every day, but he wasn't born that way."

  "I'm sure you're right, Mimi. Does any of that matter now?"

  "I guess not," I answered. "I'm just wondering if, you know..." I couldn't get the rest of my question out.

  "If you're too much like him?" he asked.

  I turned toward him. "Why would you ask me that?"

  "Because you've mentioned more than once that it bothers you that you weren't appalled when you saw your mother's image on the jacket. And that you should've objected when you thought I was breaking into Axel's garage to steal something. You've dropped little hints like that. I think you're trying to figure out who you are."

  "Maybe you're right." I stroked the side of his cheek with the back of my hand. "Who am I, Christian?" I asked. My eyes were starting to burn as I pulled them away from his and stared at the ceiling.

  "You're Mimi Bear." He talked to my profile as his left thumb teased my nipple. "My wife and the woman I've always loved. You've walked a straight line for so long, you're punishing yourself for feeling the smallest thrill at doing something you consider bad."

  "Possibly," I conceded. "Maybe that's it."

  "And you like that people are treating us differently at The Alibi," Christian added. "You're feeling the excitement that comes with a sort of notoriety, or whatever you call it."

  He might've hit the nail on the head with that revelation. We'd visited The Alibi a couple times a month since I'd moved to Florida, and it didn't take long for word to get around that Anthony Bear's son had married Grizz's daughter. Like Mike had told Sal at Chicky's, Christian and I were seen as biker royalty.

  Old and new members of my father's gang slowly migrated to The Alibi, leaving their regular haunts behind. Chili practically fell apart in my arms when she asked me if it was true. She hadn't remembered that my mother was pregnant with Grizz's child when she married Tommy "Grunt" Dillon.

  "I should've recognized you," she’d cried. "You look just like your mother!"

  Engaging in conversations with some of the women from back in the day bordered on downright uncomfortable. The last thing I wanted to hear was that my father was the most well-endowed man they'd ever slept with. Yuck. The next time I saw Chili, she gave me her old club jacket. "You should have this," she offered.

  I glanced over at my open closet. I could see the black leather sleeve peeking out. Maybe Christian was right. Maybe I was enjoying my newfound popularity a little too much.

  I didn't have long to ponder the thought as Christian's hot tongue replaced his thumb, and my nipple hardened even more. I arched into his mouth and moaned loudly.

  That's when we heard her. We'd shut the bedroom door, but it didn't catch so she quietly pushed it open and snuck up on us. We scrambled to get under the covers as Abby toddled toward the bed, her footed pajamas scratching against the hardwood floor. She tightly clutched her blanket in one hand, and two chess pieces she'd swiped from the game we had set up on our coffee table in the other. I kept forgetting to put it up when she came over. After she left we would find chess pieces in the oddest places. She was fascinated with them. I was grateful she had no interest in eating them. I still had a lot to learn about childproofing a home. I'd been in college when my parents had to do that for Ruthie and Dillon.

  We both took turns momentarily distracting her so we could get dressed. A few minutes later the three of us were snuggled in the bed, Abby softly snoring between us.

  "I'll carry her back to her bed," Christian said as he slowly rose from the mattress.

  He was sitting with his back to me getting ready to stand when I told him, "No, it's okay. Let her sleep between us tonight. She's never crawled in bed with us before. It's sweet," I whispered over her head.

  He turned around and said, "I'm not a parenting expert at all, but everybody I know who has kids says once they get in bed with you, you'll never get them to stop."

  I slowly nodded my head in understanding, but couldn't help my objection. "I know, but maybe just this once."

  Christian lay back down and faced me, his back to the edge of the bed. "What did I do before I found you, Mimi? How did I exist?"

  "Probably the same way I did," I quietly answered. "Barely."

  We'd eventually settled in, repeated our vows, and I was about to fall asleep when I remembered something. "Thank you for making the bed today," I whispered into the black night.

  I felt his movement on the other side of the mattress when he asked, "Huh? I didn't make the bed. I leave before you do so you always make it."

  "But I didn't make it this morning. I was running late. When we climbed into it earlier it was made up, right?"

  "Yeah," he answered.

  "So I figured you came home for lunch or something, and saw that I didn't get a chance to make it so you did," I replied with a little more snap than I'd intended.

  I heard him yawn before saying, "I've only stopped home twice for lunch since we've lived here, and I don't remember it ever crossing my mind to see if the bed needed to be made."

  "Who made our bed? Do you think someone broke into the house?" I sat up and switched on the light.

  "Ack! Mimi, that's too bright. I was about to fall asleep. Turn it off," he grumbled.

  "Not until I get to the bottom of this," I said, giving him a stern look.

  He blew out a sigh and replied, "And when this person broke in to make the bed, do you think they emptied the dishwasher and did a load of laundry too?"

  Ignoring his sarcasm, I frowned in concentration trying to remember if I'd managed to make the bed. I couldn't conjure up a specific memory because it was jumbled together with every other time I’d done so.

  "It's one of those robotic things you do, right?" he asked. "Like brushing your teeth and combing your hair. I got to work once and started to braid my hair before I realized I'd already done it."

  Christian's long hair was a hazard around engines so he always wore it in a braid while working at the shop.

  I nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." I slipped under the covers and turned off the light.

  "Mimi?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Remind me
before I leave for work tomorrow to put out the paint and brushes we bought."

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Maybe whoever broke in will come back and paint the spare room."

  "Ha ha," I said dryly. "You’re not funny."

  As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but compare Aunt Christy's notion that Nick had acquired the office space near me only to exact revenge on Christian to my "bed-making break-in" speculation. My assumption was just as ridiculous as hers. I flipped over on my stomach, and pulled my pillow over my head.

  Chapter 53

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida 2007

  The next couple of months flew by, bringing the good and the not-so-good with them. First, and most important to us, was the news that Christian’s parole had been revoked. Christian had been called to a special hearing where he was told that due to the high volume of parolees and the lack of officers to manage them, some cases were being considered for early termination. Christian's was one of them. Christian and I, on the other hand, believed it had nothing to do with that. We didn't think it was a coincidence that my parents had no sooner inquired about our Thanksgiving plans, where I informed them that Christian would have to submit the proper paperwork and hope for the best, that a special committee had requested his attendance a few weeks later. We both surmised that both sets of parents conspired to grease the wheels of justice by placing the perfect amount of money in the right bank accounts.

  I’d done as I’d promised and stopped in at Nick’s new charity, which he ended up calling Little Gems, and met his fiancée, Rachel. She knew who I was, and just like I hadn’t been able to bring myself to apologize for Christian’s assault on Nick, she didn’t apologize or make excuses for what Nick had attempted to do to me. I instantly liked her, but knew our acquaintance couldn’t go beyond an occasional greeting when and if we crossed paths at the office complex.

  Jolly Roger on the other hand, made more of an attempt to befriend me. I’m pretty sure he watched for me and made sure we ran into each other. He was never obnoxious or intrusive, only gentle-spirited and kind. I knew what he was trying to do, but it would never work, and I said so. He was under the misguided impression that Christian and I could actually be friends with Nick and Rachel. I finally told him in a kind way that he was wasting his time. I genuinely liked Roger and found myself occasionally arriving early to my appointment to talk to him for a few extra minutes each week.

  As for Nick, I hadn’t seen him since that first time.

  Mrs. Truncle never again graced the museum with her presence, at least not when I was working. I was thoroughly enjoying my job, seeing my therapist regularly, thriving with Christian in the boxing ring and by myself with yoga. We’d gotten into a groove with Abby. Life was good, but not perfect. Then again, I hadn’t expected it to be.

  In addition to working out the kinks that are expected in a new marriage, I’d had to secretly continue to deal with Autumn’s harassment which only got worse after Abby started to call me something resembling my name. Unfortunately, Mimi and Mommy were a little too close, and Autumn was furious. She even accused me of trying to replace her. I denied it. Just like she maintained her denial of the offensive notes I still found on my windshield. She’d recently upped her game when she left one on my car while it was parked in front of my house. I was beginning to wonder if turning the other cheek had been a bad idea. It might’ve been time to tell Christian about the extent of her nastiness.

  The bed-making intruder never did come back to paint our spare room, so we continued to work on making our house a home while dealing with the aggravating darts life threw at us. I tried not to scream when Christian decided to help me with the laundry and combined my hand-washable delicates with his greasy work shirts. And he tried not to lose his temper when I unknowingly filled my gas tank with diesel fuel, almost damaging my car beyond repair.

  My parents had shipped me the piano my dad, Tommy, had bought for my eighth birthday, and I was delighted when Daisy asked me to teach her how to play. I’d also taught Christian how to play chess on the set I’d displayed. The one Abby continued to be fascinated with. It was another gift from my parents that had been passed down from Tommy. I was told it was the same chess set he’d used to teach my mother to play back in the seventies. The same one I used to see in Mom and Tommy’s bedroom when I was a child. I used to sneak in there and play with the pieces when I wasn’t supposed to.

  I hadn’t really had an opportunity to make friends anywhere. Certainly not at my job, since I normally worked alone. I had coffee with a few girls from yoga, but it never went beyond that. I was grateful when I’d managed to make a new friend, through Christian’s connections at The Alibi where we’d pretty much turned into regulars.

  It was a typical Friday night and the owner, Ken, told me he had a surprise for me. During my first visit to the bar months prior, I'd noticed an old piano that had been pushed up against a wall. When a few of the regulars heard that I knew how to play, they insisted I treat them to a song. But it hadn't been possible. The piano had no life left in it.

  I watched as Ken ceremoniously yanked a bright white sheet off a brand-new piano. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to get a new one. Will you play for us, Mimi?" A couple of the patrons started cheering me on so I sat down on the bench and started banging away to songs I thought they'd like. And they did. After about three, one of the guys asked me if he played a couple of songs on the jukebox, could I play the piano parts? I told him I would try. He picked the right artist, because I loved Bob Seger and knew almost all his music. I'd just finished “Roll Me Away” and was headed back to our table when I saw someone come in the door. I knew I would run into Blue eventually. I just didn't know when. I hadn't made eye contact with him so I headed for the table and sat down with my newest and closest friend, Debbie.

  "You are so talented, Mimi." She took a long sip of her beer. "I want to be you when I grow up."

  The comment was funny because Debbie was in her early forties. She hadn't been part of my father's old gang, and I was grateful and relieved that she didn't have any sex stories to share about him. Her boyfriend, Joe, hadn't joined the gang until right after my dad went to prison so he hadn't personally known Grizz either. Debbie and Joe had met a few years back. She hadn't even known Christian because he'd been in jail when she had hooked up with Joe.

  Even though they were older than us, Christian and I both enjoyed the couple’s company. So much so that we'd started seeing them outside The Alibi. At first, it was hard for me to believe that Joe was part of the motorcycle club. He was so quiet and mild-mannered, it was hard for me to imagine him as someone who was moving up the ranks. Even though he made a good amount of money through the club’s illegal activities, he still worked a day job for an audio company that specialized in setting up home theaters, surveillance, and alarm systems. What Joe lacked in conversation, Debbie more than provided. But not in an obnoxious, annoying sort of way. She was obviously proud that he was considered one of only a few who would be in line to replace Blue one day, but her life didn't revolve around the club. She worked full-time for Blue waitressing at his restaurant, Razors.

  "You were great, babe," Christian told me as he nodded toward the pool table.

  I thanked him then shook my head. I didn't feel like shooting pool.

  "You two go," Debbie chimed in, waving Joe and Christian away from the table. After they left, she leaned toward me and asked, "Has she been behaving herself?"

  I rolled my eyes. "No. I got another one two days ago."

  Debbie was the only person I'd told when Autumn started leaving her hateful notes. I didn't even tell my therapist because I was afraid she would insist I report her harassment to the police.

  "I already suggested you have a surveillance camera installed on your property. Joe will hook you up with a deal." She took a long drag on her cigarette and added, “Besides, I told you it might not be Autumn.” I watched as she gave Krystal, who was on the other side of the bar, a dirty l
ook.

  I shook my head. "I don't need a surveillance camera to know who's behind it, Debbie."

  "As long as you come to Joe if you decide to get one," she reminded me. "You'll come to him first, right?"

  I nodded, and she scooted slightly closer to me. "So, what did it say?" she asked, concern in her voice.

  I took a deep breath, reluctant to share what was scrawled on the last note. I'd found it on my windshield before I left for work, which meant Autumn must've watched the house and waited for Christian to leave before leaving it there.

  I took a sip of my beer and set the bottle down on the table, concentrating on placing it perfectly on the cardboard coaster. Without looking at Debbie, I repeated the scribbled message.

  "He fucked me last night?" she whisper-yelled. "What does that even mean?"

  "I can only assume she watches the house enough that she saw Christian leave the night before, and she tried to mess with my head." I looked over at her then. “You know, to make me think that he was out screwing around when he was supposed to be helping Joe fix his bike."

  Debbie quickly looked away, and I knew I'd said something that had made her uncomfortable. "Christian was at your house working on Joe's motorcycle, right?"

  She shifted in her chair. Shaking her head slowly, she said, "Christian hasn't been to the house to work on Joe's bike. I didn't even know anything was wrong with Joe's bike."

  I was visibly shaken, and Debbie knew it. Christian had never lied to me, and I was beginning to wonder if hanging with his old biker friends was a good idea. Maybe he was missing out on the freedom he'd become accustomed to. Maybe marriage wasn't what he thought it was. Maybe I wasn't enough after all.

  "Mimi, don't." I felt Debbie place her hand on my forearm. "I'm sure Christian has a perfectly good explanation for where he was."

  I pasted on a smile and said, "I'm sure you're right."

  Then her eyes got very serious. “You cannot tell Christian what I just told you,” she pleaded.