Floating

by Natasha Thomas

  I spend the next hours before dawn curled into a tight ball, in my ugly green hospital gown, crying into the scratchy pillowcase. Tank’s right. I have to sort my shit out before I can even consider a life in Blackwater with Nate and Kellen. I know what I have to do. It doesn’t make doing it any easier, but it’s necessary, nonetheless.

  Most people would at least urge me to talk to Nate before I left. I can see where they’re coming from. I really can. It’s not going to happen, though. I’m not strong enough for that. Nate will break down my resolve, convincing me to stay. It wouldn’t take much more than a hug and a few kind words to do it, either. So, I don’t give him the chance.

  Organising with my parents to sign for my release ASAP post-surgery, Tank and Priss to guard my door to ensure Nate can’t get in, and finding a specialist close to where I’ll be staying for my aftercare is relatively easy. My mom and dad look a little disappointed that I won’t be staying with Nate. They’ve always harboured the belief we would end up together. This is a step in the wrong direction in their eyes, a step backwards.

  Tank and Priss both agree to do what they can to deter Nate from getting into my room. I know it’s especially hard for Tank. Above all, Nate is his brother; maybe not in blood, but definitely in spirit and road. In my mind, Tank is part of the reason I’m leaving. Albeit in a positive way, but he can damn well do me a solid and keep Nate off my back, at least as a way of payback for listening to him.

  I write a letter each for Lou, Priss, Tilly, Kendall, and Adelyn. I also add a short note for Reaper, apologising for leaving him in the lurch. The last letter I sat down and wrote was only half an hour before they came to prep me for surgery. I want to take my time with this one. It will probably be the most important one I ever write.

  Everything went well with the transplant. As soon as I get my confirmation from Doctor Bellingfield that Kellen is okay, I gather my belongings and check out. Signing my discharge papers is hard. It signifies that I’m really doing this. I’m really leaving. I shed more than a handful of tears on my way out the door. I know that’s not going to be the last of them.

  When I set this plan in motion, I originally intended to go home with my parents for a month, and then on to Dallas to stay with Clinton and Stephan for a month or two. It has been ages since I last talked to either of them, let alone saw them in person. As is the way of the world, plans change. Before I knew it almost six months have passed in the blink of an eye. I’ve nearly finished everything I set out to accomplish before heading back to Blackwater to face the music. I have one last thing to do, though.

  You know the saying, “Leave the best for last”? Yeah, well that doesn’t apply in this case. This last thing will be undoubtedly the hardest and probably the worst. It will also be the most rewarding. I just hope I haven’t made a mistake in doing it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kellen

  I put the crinkled piece of paper on my bed and try for the millionth time to straighten it. It isn’t working, though. Giving up, I tuck it under my pillow and hope Dad doesn’t find it. I’m not hiding it. Not really. I just don’t want my dad to be more upset than he already is. I’m starting to think it might just be better if I show it to him.

  He tries really hard to hide being so sad from everyone, even me. I can see it, though. His eyes are tired and he has big circles under them. Dad doesn’t smile as much anymore, either. Uncle Pipe told a pretty funny joke the other day. When all the guys were nearly crying because it was that funny, Dad just sat on the couch with a small grin.

  Rolling over on to my back, I spread my arms out wide and do the same with my legs. I love living with my dad. His house is awesome. Most of the guys at the club are cool, too, especially Uncle Tank and Uncle Pipe. Kendall and Adelyn are really nice to me, and I love Kendall and Uncle Cage’s daughter, Lexi, lots and lots.

  It took me a little while to get used to Lou. She’s crazy. Uncle Steel heard her telling me it’s only because she’s pregnant. He gave me wide eyes, shaking his head side to side, telling me no, it really wasn’t that. She is just nuts. I believe him, too. My favourite is Priss, though. At first I didn’t like to look her in the eyes. Uncle Tank caught me doing it one day and asked me why I wouldn’t look at her. I was really embarrassed, but Uncle Tank is easy to talk to, so I told him.

  Priss is too pretty. She’s so pretty it makes my face go hot, my ears get red, and I look stupid, so I don’t look at her. Uncle Tank laughed harder than I’ve ever heard him laugh before. Then he winked at me, and said, “She sure is, little buddy. She sure is.” Uncle Tank left a few weeks later, for a long time. When he came back he was different. I think something bad happened to him because he is a lot angrier than he was before, and he won’t talk to Priss anymore, either. I try my best to cheer Priss up. She still smiles at me all the time. She smiles at Lexi, Anna, and baby Kane, too. It just doesn’t feel like a proper smile when she does, though.

  School is okay, and I love football, but keeping this secret from Dad is making me tired. I can’t sleep properly; it’s getting harder to stay awake during class. Which means someone will tell my dad about it, soon enough. I have lots of secrets from Dad. I don’t why this one make me feel so different. The other ones, I don’t like to think about. They make me feel sick. I get headaches, my body shakes all over, and I cry too much. It’s probably best if I don’t ever tell him, like Mom said.

  Mom’s been gone since before I had my operation. I don’t miss her. That sounds mean, doesn’t it? She isn’t a very good mom. I don’t think she’s a very good person, either. I hear some of the guys at the club talk, and they call her not nice names. I can’t repeat them or my dad will get pissed. I probably shouldn’t say that word either, but Dad doesn’t say anything to that one, so I figure it’s okay. My door creaks and look up to see my dad standing there.

  “Hey, bud, what you up to?”

  I don’t want to keep lying, but I haven’t figured out exactly how to bring it up.

  “Ummm, nothing.”

  He gives me that half smile thing again. “Try again, bud. You look guilty as hell.” I try to shrug it off, but he’s not buying it.

  I think it’s time I show him because he’s right. It is making me feel guilty.

  “I was reading, Dad. Can you come in for a sec?”

  Sitting down on the edge of my bed, Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, and asks

  “You okay, Son?” He looks worried. Better than he’s going to look in a minute, so I shouldn’t complain. Nodding, I reach under my pillow and pull out the letter. His face scrunches up a bit. “What’s this, Kellen?”

  “It’s a letter, Dad.” I say it like I’d say, “duh.”

  His eyes widen as he sees who’s writing it is.

  “Where’d you get this, Kellen?” Dad’s angry, I can tell.

  Not at me I don’t think, well, I hope not.

  “Uncle Tank gave it to me at the hospital.” I hurry to tell him the rest before he loses his mind. “I wasn’t hiding it from you, Dad. I just didn’t want to upset you. You’re already sad enough.”

  He mumbles, “Fuckin Tank,” under his breath when I shove him with my shoulder.

  “You can read it, Dad. It’s to me, but I don’t think she’d mind. I think she’d like it if you did.” Giving me a one armed hug, he kisses the top of my head, and opens the crinkled up, worn yellow sheet of paper. I don’t really need to read it anymore. I know all the words by heart.

  Dearest Kellen,

  First, let me tell you I am so glad to have finally met you. I always wanted a nephew one day, and it looks like I got the best one going around. I’m so sorry I have to leave before getting to know you better. Trust me when I say, I wish I didn’t have to.

  You won’t understand this now, maybe later, but leaving is something I had to do for me. It doesn’t make it any easier, or any better. I know that, and I’m sorry if in doing so I hurt you or your dad.

  I need you to do me a couple of favours, if you can. It mig
ht be a lot to ask, but I know you can do it.

  I need you to get better! Rest, take your medicine, eat your VEGETABLES, get lots of sleep, and do whatever your dad says, until you’re 100% again. You should probably do what your dad says, even after you’re better, but let’s take it one step at a time.

  Before I ask you to do the next thing for me, I want to tell you, I love you. Round and round it never ends. No matter where I am, how far apart we are, know that and keep it close to your heart.

  The second favour is a bit harder. Look after your dad.

  Try to make him smile every day, remind him of the good things he’s got to look forward to. He’s a stubborn man, and he’ll probably fight it, but I know I can trust you to do your best.

  Here’s a few things about your Dad that might help. He loves extra nuts, and topping on his sundaes. Pretend you want one, and get him to take you to Mo’s. He makes the best sundaes around. Your dad hates peanut butter; so if you can handle it, try just jelly instead. Your dad’s allergic to seafood. He gets spotty all over and itches for days, so don’t give him anything that has that in it. Music makes him smile. Every time. His favourites are; Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, Lincoln Park and, don’t tell him I said this, but he loves Mumford & Sons, too. Take him fishing, go for a swim when you can again, keep practicing your throwing, build something. Your dad is really talented when it comes to anything mechanical. Get him to show you his bike, what things are, and what they do. He’ll love it.

  Lastly. Be a kid, Kellen.

  I know you haven’t had an easy time of it, and for that I’m sorry. More sorry than you will ever know. You’re safe now. Your dad will NEVER let anything happen to you. Neither will any of the guys from the club. They’ll take care of you. Your only job is to have fun, learn everything you can, and trust that the people around you will make a beautiful life for you.

  I’ll see you again one day, gorgeous boy. Take care of yourself and your dad, until I do.

  xoxoxo Ronnie

  Dad has tears running down his face after he finishes reading it. He’s not making any noise, but he’s crying a lot. Maybe I was wrong to show him. Grabbing me in a bear hug he squeezes me tight, proving me wrong. I hope this makes it better for him. It is the last thing I could think of to do. I tried everything else Ronnie suggested, and none of it worked. I was starting to give up. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to disappoint her. Or, have her think I can’t take care of Dad. He needs someone to look after him. Just like I need him to look after me. I wish Ronnie was here to do it instead.

  Ronnie said she would see me again, one day. Well, one day isn’t soon enough. Dad needs her. I want her to come home. Dad wants her to come home. I know Kendall, Lou, Priss, and Tilly want her here, too. I think even Uncle Tank wants her back. I thought about asking him to find her. I don’t think he’ll do it, though. He’s loyal to Dad and will tell him what I was asking him to do. I don’t think it will go down well with Dad, at all.

  Later, after Dad asks if he could take the letter with him for tonight, he promises he’ll give it back, so I tell him that is okay. I stare out my bedroom window. It is so dark that I can see almost every star in the sky.

  Tonight I pray. I pray harder than I ever have before. I don’t ask for lots of things, like I used to. All ask for is if God can bring Ronnie back to us. That’s all. Just one thing. I hope God is listening, because I promise I won’t ask for anything else, ever again, if he does that.

  I guess he was listening after all. Because the day before I turned nine Ronnie came home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nate

  Who knew a fucking nine-year-old’s birthday party would be this hard to plan? Not me, that’s for fucking sure, or I would never have agreed to this shit, in the first place. As it is, I’m not sure whether I should run screaming from what was my backyard, or hide until it’s all over.

  Kellen let slip that he’s never had a proper birthday party about a week and a half ago. That’s fucked up enough by itself. What makes it exponentially worse is that he said it in front of Priss. She was horrified to say the least, and has taken it as a fucking challenge to rectify it. Within the span of three days, Priss has systematically organised every fucking guy in the club to do something in relation to the blow out party she’s planning for Kellen at my place. Mind you there is one exception to the manual labour force she’s assembled.

  Tank.

  It’s getting fucking ridiculous. Scratch that. It’s far past ridiculous already. It’s not Priss’s fault. She’s the injured party in all this, in my opinion. Tank needs to pull his head out of his ass. The tension radiating between them is so close to overload, that Pipe has started taking bets from the brothers whether Tank’s going to end up with a hell of a black eye, castrated junk, or dead when Priss finally flips her shit.

  Regardless of the clusterfuck going on with them, my backyard looks like a fucking amusement park. It is an altogether separate clusterfuck. Priss has hired bouncy houses, four of the fuckers. The brothers are currently setting up long tables that seat ten. The folding chairs to go with them are stacked against the side of the house, but I have no doubt she’ll have them on to those next.

  Kendall and Lou are helping to decorate tomorrow morning and are, at the moment, out with my boy so he can pick what party food he wants. Selena, Pipe’s woman is a fucking awesome baker, so Priss recruited her to do the cake and some other shit. I have no idea what. I have to be honest; I stopped listening after she finished reading out the first list. There are four in total that I know of. So do you blame me?

  Apparently, there is a truck coming this afternoon with a fuck ton of hay bales, Priss is going to use to set up a mini paintball obstacle course. Paintball. In my fucking backyard. Yeah, you heard right. This shit is insane, but whatever makes Kellen happy, right? I’m not completely sold on the idea, even though Kellen thinks it’s, “wicked cool.” I don’t need parents rocking up to pick up their kids, only to find them covered in fucking paint, sporting bruises from the paint pellets, and losing their minds because I’m irresponsible enough to have allowed it. I gave in, though. What else could I do?

  Most of the food is finger food, thankfully. It doesn’t need a lot of prep. I’ll throw some burgers on the grill as my contribution to the day; along with buying the cases of beer Priss sent me to get, in order to pay off the brothers helping.

  My only concern is how the hell we’re going to corral thirty kids and manage to keep them all safe and injury free; especially with the fucking paintball set up. Not to mention how am I going to last, NOT wanting to drown one of the obnoxious little shits in a bucket, before the day is over. As I’m considering this, Tank walks up, joining me against the railing of my porch. Sighing, I turn my head to see him leaning in much the same position as I am.

  Arms crossed in front of us, hunched over using the railing to hold us up I say,

  “You know you’re a fucking asshole, right?” I can’t help it. It needs to be said, and at this point he’s just pissing me off with his shitty attitude.

  Straightening he turns his back on the party set up beyond, and replies with a weary, “Yeah, I’m fully aware how much of an asshole I am. I’ve only been told five hundred fuckin times this week by every brother I’ve seen.”

  No surprise there. All the brothers, at one time or another over the last few months, have voiced their opinion on Tank’s epic assholeness.

  “So, if you know, then why the hell aren’t you doing anything to fix this shit? Jesus fucking Christ, man, it’s been months, and you’re still ignoring her, holding your dick. This shit isn’t going to end well, Brother, and it’s all on you when it implodes on your stupid ass.”

  Agitation and fear are written all over him in equal measure. I get it. I really fucking do. He’s scared shitless he’s going to lose her, and he should be. Priss has suffered enough in her life. If Tank can’t pull himself together and work this out, he needs to leave her the hell alone. This isn’t doin
g either of them any good. “You don’t think I fuckin know that, too? Last thing I want is to see her hurt more than she already has been. Tilly’s been on my ass for weeks to fix this. Pipe threatened to fuckin kill me if I made her cry again. Shit, Arrow, I didn’t even know she’d been crying in the first place.”

  I scoff at that. The man is fucking dense sometimes.

  “Really. You wanna try again? You’re her best fucking friend. What did you think she was going to do when you cut her off without a word?”

  Shaking his head sadly he drops it to study his boots.

  “I don’t fuckin know, alright.”

  That’s the most pussy answer the dude has ever given me. If he thinks I’m going to drop this with that explanation he’s got another thing coming.

  “You’ve been in their lives for nearly five years, Tank. You spent time with her nearly every day for those five years, and you didn’t think it’d gut her when you took off for two months, and came back, only to shut her out completely? Jesus you’re a stupid motherfucker.” Clasping my hand on his shoulder I feel the tension there. There’s no hiding this is hurting him too, but it’s his shit to solve. “Something happened when you were gone.” He looks up and I signal for him to shut the fuck up. “I don’t need you to tell me what it was. Shit, Tank, it’s your business. You owe it to her to explain it, though. You don’t want anything to do with her afterward, that’s again your business, but she deserves an answer at least.” Leaving him to think on that, I round the front of the house and stop in my tracks.