“Got everything?”
“Yeah.” He hands the bag over to me quickly.
“Wait a sec,” I demand, as I open the bag, having to roll my eyes at the contents. “You’ll have to go back.” I extract a box of tampons. “These aren’t what she wanted. I asked you for pads.”
His face is so red it amuses me. “They’re women’s shit, aren’t they? Won’t they fuckin’ do?”
I’d take bets he just went to that aisle and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. “No, they’re no fuckin’ good.” I might not know the mechanics but can imagine her pussy’s been mucked around enough as it is today.
“How the fuck am I going to know what pads are?”
I shrug. “Ask?”
The red on his cheeks darkens and there’s a look of horror in his eyes.
Taking pity on him, I take out my phone which is now showing a red bar and Google. Tapping an image, I turn it to show him. “This is what she needs.”
He looks down, then up to meet my eyes. “Sometimes I wonder whether getting this fuckin’ patch is worth it.”
“Whoa,” I say sharply. “With an attitude like that, you’re not going to go far.”
“Sorry, man.” His face falls. “Grumbler had me out searching for a left-handed hammer for Ross today. The store gave me shit, saying they had to order one in. I thought Grumbler was going to tear me a new one for returning empty-handed before he cracked up.”
Par for the course. And I’ve been through hazing twice, once in the Marines, and then for the Devils. Kid’s got to grow thicker skin.
Seeing my total lack of sympathy, he eyes the image again, then straightens his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
True to his word, in half an hour he returns, this time with everything she requires. He’s also brought a few beers, which restores some of my faith in him.
“Need anything more, just call me.”
As I nod, I have a thought. “Come back first thing in the morning, Kid. We might need more errands run.”
“Sure thing.” He mock-salutes me, turns around and leaves.
A flushing toilet tells me Saffie is awake. Holding the bag, I turn, but before I can call out, I hear her bedroom door closing again. Going over, I knock gently. When she calls out “Come in,” I enter, then I wave what’s in my hand.
“Your supplies, ma’am.”
She sighs with relief and holds out her hand. “Thank you so much. What do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I hadn’t paid Kid yet, but doubt it cost a lot. “I’m about to order some food. Want anything?”
“I still feel a bit nauseous from the anaesthetic. I think I’ll just try and sleep some more.”
Sleep a little, maybe. Recriminate with herself, yeah, I suspect she’ll be doing that a lot.
“You want to talk, or just be held, you call out for me, you hear?”
She gives a tired nod and turns away but then back almost immediately. “Just for the record, Niran, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Saffie,” I start. “I know it’s hard. I know it will take forever to get over. I know it must have fuckin’ hurt and I can’t begin to imagine the pain. But as I told you before, I don’t think you had a choice.”
She stares at me for a moment, then her chin raises a little. “Thank you, Niran. That helps. I know some people would think I should have carried on and waited to see what happened, but it would have just been torturing the both of us. It’s just going to take me some time to get over. I—” she breaks off, sobs, then covers her mouth as though to stop more following. “I just don’t know where to start. I miss him already.”
“He’ll always be here,” I tell her as firmly as I can, hovering my hand just over her heart, not touching her, but leaving her in no doubt of my meaning. “But he’s at peace now. He won’t have a world of hurt to look forward to. As a mother, you made one of the hardest decisions in the world, but it was his best interests you had at heart, not yours.”
Words can do nothing to heal a soul. She needs time to come to terms with her loss. She’ll go through different phases before she gets anywhere close to normal again—sorrow, anger, regret, and finally acceptance. I might only have lost a leg, but I know that only too well.
But she’ll get there. I’ll be right there beside her to make sure of it.
Chapter Eighteen
Saffie
Niran says all the right words, but I don’t deserve to hear them. I feel so damn empty, a shell of my former self. So full of guilt for whatever I’d done to cause my child such harm and the one thing I couldn’t do, give him life.
I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to talk. All I want to do is curl up and mourn. I feel so alone. For no reason other than needing company to take me out of my head just for a moment, I go back to the living room, but stop when Niran takes out his phone. I wait while he places an order for pizza.
I note he’s ordered a lot, far too much even for a man his size, probably hoping it will tempt my appetite, but food is the last thing on my mind.
When he ends the call, he frowns at the device in his hand. “You got a charger?” he asks.
“Not one for that.” I point at the model he’s holding that’s a competitor to mine.
He mumbles to himself something about the prospect, tomorrow, and fucking companies slowing old phones down, then focuses on me again. “You look done in, darlin’.”
“I can’t sleep.”
He stands, approaches me, but without my say so, he doesn’t attempt to get close. “Whatcha need?”
There’s nothing I can ask for. No one will give me my baby back. My nightmare isn’t over but just beginning. I shrug.
“You go back and lie down, sweetheart. Try to get some rest. If you need anything, call me, okay? If you get hungry, I can bring you some pizza.”
Lying down doesn’t help, but I don’t call Niran, and don’t go out to see him again.
My body aches and so does my soul. I’m bleeding just as I was told to expect and will be for quite some days. Surprisingly, I was told I don’t need a checkup unless things don’t seem to be proceeding well. Even at the stage I was at, the procedure was simple with few complications. I’d rather have a huge visible scar to match the one in my heart.
Will I ever forgive myself? Not for having the termination, I can’t see I had any choice, but for damaging my baby in the first place.
I can’t fully sleep, but I must doze, waking with a start. That’s when my mind starts working overtime all over again. Gradually, once more I drift off, veering between dreams where I’m holding a healthy baby in my arms, and nightmares where he’s born hideously deformed. The night passes torturously slow. When dawn comes, I’m lying awake, only not stirring because of the man who’s currently asleep in my living room.
Suddenly conscious I’d offered him nothing, no blanket or pillow to ease his sleep, I’m embarrassed to go out and see him. But needs must, my bladder’s demands are insistent, so finally I rise, dressing before heading to the bathroom.
As I pass the living room, I see Niran’s awake—well, he probably didn’t get much rest, he’s too big to lie on my couch—and is wolfing down a piece of cold pizza that must have been left over from last night.
He nods at me as I indicate the bathroom, and after taking a few more minutes of reprieve, I go out to meet him.
“Sleep okay?”
For an answer, I shrug. Terribly is the answer, but probably better than he had.
“The prospect will be here shortly. You gonna want something to eat? He’ll go out and get anything we want.” He pauses, then adds, “You need any more supplies?”
Despite myself, my lips quirk. “You made him buy that stuff, didn’t you? Is a big man like you afraid of going yourself?”
Niran snorts. “Babe, takes more than a few feminine products to embarrass me. I wanted to make sure you had someone with you, that’s why I stayed. And if you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got no transport. B
ut yeah, I’ll admit, I did enjoy yanking Kid’s chain.” He chuckles to himself.
Carefully, I sit myself on a chair, easing myself down as my stomach is hurting similar to having terrible period pain.
Niran stares at me. He’d noticed my grimace, and his head tilts as if he’s not too sure whether I’m hurting, or whether it’s something he’s said. “Don’t worry about Kid, Saffie. We give all the prospects shit, giving them bum jobs and running them off their feet as a test. They need to prove their loyalty before they patch in, and if Kid can’t handle a bit of embarrassment, then he’s not the man I want at my back.”
Once again, I wonder about the Satan’s Devils MC. If making their prospects feel awkward is the most hazing they do, they’re not like the Crazy Wolves. Prospects with the Wolves don’t have it easy. Once, a tall gangly lad was forced to fight Slit. The sergeant-at-arms was twice his size, and his weight all muscle. It was an uneven fight, and the result was guaranteed from the time the scared youngster had bravely held up his fists. He had escaped with his life, but his back was broken and would never be fixed.
If you got patched into the Crazy Wolves, you had to prove you were one of them. Prepared to fight literally to the death for a chance to wear their patch, or to commit murder, kidnap, and torture on their behalf.
A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. As Niran’s posture is relaxed when he peers out the peephole, I gather it’s probably who he’s expecting. He opens the door and in steps who I assume is the expected prospect as he’s wearing a cut.
Ushering him in, Niran closes the door and locks it.
“Saffie, this is Kid. Kid, Saffie.”
I raise my chin. I don’t think I’ve ever been introduced to a prospect so politely before. On his part, Kid offers me a wide grin.
“Any news from the clubhouse?” Niran asks.
Kid shrugs and looks sheepish. “I, er, didn’t stay there last night. Came straight from…” When his voice trails off and Niran rolls his eyes, I can guess what he was going to allude to was some female’s bed.
“What do you want to eat?” Niran turns his body slightly to face me. “Kid will go out and collect something.”
I thought I’d never want food again, but at that point, my stomach rumbles. I might want to give up, but the gnawing pains in my gut tell me I’ll have a fight with my body.
“There’s a breakfast place close by that delivers. Why don’t we just order from there?”
Niran glances at me, looks at Kid, then inclines his head. “Nah. Kid can go collect it.”
Armed with our orders, the prospect, who doesn’t seem at all put out, leaves again.
Niran’s a rock that first day. I’m numb, I can’t think of anything. While I sit in a daze, unable to believe I’m no longer pregnant, Kid, after delivering breakfast, is sent off grocery shopping, then he and Niran put it away. I have no appetite but pick at food that’s put in front of me. At some point, Niran leaves as he’s got some business he needs doing. Club business, I think to myself, not that I let on that I already know were I to ask, he wouldn’t tell me. Kid stays with me, but plays on his phone, keeping quiet and out of the way.
Initially, I cast him in the role of prison guard, then realised my past was influencing me. Kid gives off no vibe he’d stop me if I wanted to leave. In fact, I even tested him, saying I was going out to see a neighbour, then when he nodded, I said I’d changed my mind.
Kid’s okay, I decide. Unassuming, fading into the background, not commenting when I disappear into my bedroom when the next bout of immense despair hits. I am mindful, though, not to talk to him. I can’t risk another Jude.
Niran returns that evening, quickly dismissing the prospect. He comes prepared, bringing a new sleeping bag with him to replace the one I’d given to the homeless man living on the street outside.
I appreciate the company more than I expect. Alone, I’d just relive everything over and over again. I can’t even put on the television as all I seem to see are babies and happy moms, or ads for toys and equipment.
Niran doesn’t expect anything from me. If I want to talk, he’s there. If I don’t, he does whatever I indicate I need, holding me or just sitting in opposite chairs keeping silent.
Our pattern goes on for a few days. Slowly, it grows on me how much I appreciate him being there. Each morning, Niran leaves for work, but after the first day seems to trust that I’m safe to be left alone, as Kid doesn’t make a reappearance.
When he comes in, I’ve taken to asking about his sister, and become used to hearing the shit she’s got up to that day. As I hear more about her, I start to understand why a male can’t get inside her head, and begin to feel sorry, not just for her, but for him.
Growing up as I had, I’ve always had one regret. “I wish I had a sister,” I tell him one night.
“You can have mine,” he retorts.
For the first time in days, my lips start to curve. Then I voice the question I’ve been meaning to ask him for days. “Why don’t you wear your cut when you come here?” He’d had it that first day, but not since then.
He barks a short laugh. “Because I drive a truck. Don’t want to leave my bike parked in this area.” His raised eyebrow speaks volumes.
“Oh.”
That’s sensible, but he’d rather ride. I know that. The discussion about transport reminds me.
“What’s happened to my car?” I wait to hear that it’s been scrapped. It’s so far gone, I doubt it would be able to be fixed. How I’ll get around is just one more problem I’ll have to deal with, but far down my list right now. Practical things are way too much for me to handle. I’ve enough issue remembering to breathe oxygen in.
Now both his eyebrows rise. “Your car’s outside.”
I tilt my head in surprise, then slump. Of course it is. It will be up to me to scrap it. He’d have overstepped if he’d taken that on himself.
It seems he can read my mind. “Don’t look like that, Saffie. It’s still an old junker, but it’s been fixed for now. Not sure how long it will keep running, but for short journeys A to B, it should be fine.”
My eyes widen. “How much do I owe you?”
“Fuck all. It wasn’t much.” His expression challenges me to question him, but I stay quiet.
I’m sure it took more than a new set of spark plugs to get it running again, but I don’t care enough to argue, or worry I’m beholden to him. I’m mobile again, that’s all that matters.
The next day I return to my job, and gradually normal daily actions get easier to go through. My heart still aches, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to feel whole again, but I’m starting to think I’ll be able to exist in a world without my baby, even if I never forget him for a moment.
I’ve only one problem, and that’s that I’m starting to depend on Niran. I find I’m watching the clock, anxious for the time when the end of my shift comes around, knowing he’ll be waiting for me at home, being there to share my burden, hold me, let me cry, or put food in front of me.
It’s not fair I only appreciate him when I forget he’s a biker.
It’s been a week now since that fateful day when I made the decision to say goodbye to my baby. Not long enough for the wounds to heal, or even for my body to stop bleeding. But putting one foot in front of the other has started to become habit again.
I know Niran’s only here because he thinks I need him.
My worries that he’ll bring Duke to my door have at least subsided, but he’s a biker, though it’s been all too easy to forget that. Outside our bubble of my apartment, I wouldn’t want anything to do with him. There’d never be a time where I’d be comfortable meeting his club or being a part of whatever is his life.
I’m grateful that he’s been here at a time I didn’t think I’d be able to carry on, but in the real world, he and I would never have a chance, and it’s not fair to mislead him. My fears of motorcycle clubs are just too entrenched.
That night, I confront him.
> “Niran.” I approach and sit down next to him. When he goes to put his arm around me, I pull away. “I think I need to do this on my own now.”
He glances at me sharply. “What do you mean?”
My shoulders rise and lower. “You coming around, being here when I get home, I’m leaning on you when I should start to stand on my own two feet.”
He looks taken aback. “But you don’t have to. I’m happy being here for you.”
I place my hand on his, squeezing gently. “You’re a good man, Niran. But how long is this going to last? How long will you keep coming around?”
He turns his hand over, now his is trapping mine. “For as long as you want me to. It ain’t no hardship, darlin’.”
He’s crazy. He’s got a life of his own and a sister who needs him. “And if that’s forever?” I challenge.
“Then I’ll be here,” he says firmly.
I shake my head. “That’s not friendship, Niran, that’s a relationship. And I’m far from ready for that yet. Maybe I’ll never be.” And certainly never with a biker.
“Why label it, Saffie? Who the fuck knows what’s between us and who cares? You may not believe me, but I get something from helping you. I get a sense of worth.”
“What about getting that helping your sister?”
He moves his hand, using it to wipe down his face instead. “She doesn’t need me like you do.”
I do need him. But. “I feel I need to wean myself off you.” When he looks at me, perplexed, I try to put my unformed thoughts into words. “At some point, you’ll want a woman in your life. I doubt you’ve signed up to be a monk. I can’t see a point in the future when I never want sex again.”
“I can control my urges. And, babe, there’s nothing wrong with my hand.”
I stare at him sadly. “I’ve changed, Niran. I don’t even know who I am. First, I was a woman who thought she knew what she wanted, then…” I can’t go there, so finish more lamely, “I saw myself as a mother, and that was taken from me. I can’t imagine what it’s like to feel aroused, to want someone for more than comfort.” I don’t tell him it’s not just the loss of the baby, but it’s down to all those years I spent with Duke. “I can’t keep you hanging around, waiting for something that might not happen.”
Avenging Devil Part 1: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3 Page 18
