TYSON CAINE: Book 1 in the Brothers in Arms Series (Brothers in Arms Book 1)
Page 13
He is sleeping more than usual, avoiding conflict and meals. Maybe the rum has finally caught up with him.
Mom has been fussing over him more than usual. It makes me think he is home for another reason, but I’m still not feeling sorry for him.
I give him a couple of days before I can’t bite my tongue anymore. I’ve made Tyler stay out for two nights; it’s not going to end well when the altercation occurs. Honestly, I don’t feel like I ever want to talk to him ever again. He might as well be dead to me.
****
“Jimmy, you really shouldn’t be going out to the shed. You need to be resting,” Mom says to Dad as he puts on his work boots the next morning. It’s Saturday, so we are all home and chilling; the morning has been relaxed for a change.
“What good am I as a man if I can’t work out in the shed getting my hands dirty?” he replies angrily then storms off out the back.
Twenty minutes later, the hammer is pounding into timber, then the buzzing of the drill. I hear my name from inside the house, so I wander to the back door. “Tyson, come and hold this metal rod,” Dad calls out to me. I can’t flat-out refuse or say no, so I oblige and help him with the rod.
I hold the rod in place but don’t look in Dad’s direction. Sometimes, I wish I was more outspoken like Tyler, then I could say what I’m thinking.
“Dad, can I go over to Chuck’s house?” Tommy asks him as he slowly walks toward us. It must be hard for him to speak to him after what he did.
“No one is going anywhere. You either have chores or homework,” he states sharply.
“I’ve been on top of my homework; I only have five math questions left. Can I finish the rest tomorrow?” he pleads.
“No, you will do it now,” Dad screams, and I see Tommy jump, fear evident in his eyes. Dad aggressively throws down the rod and pieces of timber and heads over to Thomas.
“Don’t you dare touch him,” I shout out loudly protecting my brother. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him fucking touch Thomas ever again.
“Or what? You going to stop me?” Dad calls back in his arrogant and condescending tone.
“Yes, I will stop you! This time, Tommy has someone around to prevent you from beating him again,” I reply, letting him know that I know about last time.
I feel his presence before I see him. “You will need to go through both of us before we ever let you lay a hand on him again,” Tyler chimes in as he enters and stands next to me.
I get goose bumps—we have never stood up to Dad like this before.
He should know better than to mess with us. He brought us up to protect each other. In his words, brothers are blood, and you don’t let anything come between that.
I see the anger in Dad’s face. The fury is boiling, and he never expected us all to challenge him. I had so much respect for Dad. I looked up to him, and I felt proud of him because he worked so hard for us, for our family. All of that is now gone.
“You will never touch Thomas again, do you hear me?” I say to him courageously. Even though I might be the one to get my ass whipped, I would protect my younger brother from anyone trying to hurt him, even our own damn father.
“How dare you!” he screams back fiercely. “I’ve raised the three of you, worked my fingers to the bone, almost killed myself to provide for this family, and this is the thanks I get?” he yells as his face turns red and his eyes widen with rage.
No way, he doesn’t get to say those lies.
“Yes, you work hard, and yes, you helped raise us, but you have never been a real father,” I declare. “A real father doesn’t beat his kids until they bleed, call them names, or belittle them. We are treated like vermin while you drink away your sorrow. A real man doesn’t verbally abuse his wife, threaten her, or tear her confidence down,” I confess to him that he has a lot of bad habits.
“All of these years I stuck up for you. I defended you, Jimmy Caine, but when you hit Thomas, I lost all respect for you. You are nothing to me anymore,” I declare, and I can’t believe I actually said it.
“You ungrateful boys,” he screams as he erupts and explodes with anger. He furiously charges toward me, knocking me to the ground with a thud. I’m stunned that he actually tackled me.
“Go ahead and beat me to a pulp, if it makes you feel better about yourself,” I say through the tackle. I won’t let him win. Yes, he can hit me, but mentally, I win.
“Poor Jimmy Caine grew up in foster homes.” Something inside me has been unleashed, and I can’t control my words. He needs to know what he has done is wrong!
“Well, you know what? You have treated your own flesh and blood just as badly as you were treated—you took out your anger on us,” I add telling him exactly how I feel. “That poor innocent child that you were … you know how bad you felt being shunned, an outcast, and hit by your foster parents yet you treat us the exact same way,” I exclaim. I just can’t understand why he would do that.
“People learn from their mistakes, yet you have made a mountain of mistakes as a father. I’m talking to you, Jimmy Caine, and it’s time you took all of the responsibility. We are good kids. You are a worthless old has-been,” I scream to finish off my portrayal of the man I once felt proud to have as my father.
With those last words, I wait for the hits to come, but instead, Dad shakes his head in disbelief. He finally looks beaten down. The truth has hit him hard, and he is finally listening to the way we see him. He takes a deep breath, turns, and walks slowly out of the shed and further down the yard.
Now, I’m a little worried. Does he have a gun hidden somewhere? Would he use it? I have no idea—seriously, this man is a stranger to me. He picks up the axe and starts chopping firewood. I am totally on edge.
“I think we should get outta here, bro,” Tyler says to me looking concerned.
“Yeah, I think you are right,” I respond looking at Thomas.
Then we hear a loud deep shriek coming from Dad, followed by a yelp. We turn to see him in a heap on the ground, he’s not moving, and his left hand is on his chest like I saw the day he was climbing down the ladder.
“Dad?” I call out to him, and he doesn’t move or respond.
“Tyler, you gotta call an ambulance,” I say as I make my way closer to check on him. Tyler gets out his phone and dials 911.
Jimmy’s eyes are wide open. Fuck me. He’s dead. Dad is dead. I reach down to feel his pulse just to confirm. Nothing.
It was a heart attack. Apparently, he was having pains and symptoms for months, and work had sent him home concerned. The ambulance assures us there was no pain; his heart just stopped.
His funeral was planned for a week later on a Saturday. Mom has been so strong through all of the arrangements. There have been so many flowers, cards, and well wishes turning up at our house.
The first song that Mom chose when we enter the chapel is Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.” If anyone did it their way, it was Dad. Stubborn as an ox and then some. I’m so glad we don’t have to carry the casket. Seriously, that is too much responsibility to place on family, and Mom agrees.
We sit in the front row and surround Mom to give her our support. “You okay?” I whisper as I lovingly squeeze her hand.
“I’m okay, Ty,” she replies. Her small smile assures me we can get through this.
Behind us are a few aunts and uncles that we haven’t seen in years, some of Dad’s work buddies, a few football friends, Brooklyn and her father, and honestly, a lot of other people I have never met. Funerals have a strange way of bringing people together.
In Jimmy’s case, he had to pull our family apart, and by dying, he has put us back together, closer than ever.
The minister starts the service all about Jimmy’s childhood, when he met and fell in love with Mom, of course when he had us boys and his career. The short life story of our father, when he was born and when he died at only forty-five years young. Being the oldest son, I’m expected to give a eulogy. I will honor the tradition and keep it classy.
I’m no longer expected to be perfect, life is full of uncertainties, human error is not the end of the world, and this is my speech and eulogy to give, and I don’t care what others think.
“I’ll make this short and sweet. There is a special bond that a father has with his sons. Jimmy Caine was a hardworking, tough and rugged father, husband, and brother.
“I’ll always remember the good times with Dad. He was my hero, the way he taught Tyler, Thomas, and myself to play football, the way he scared away the monsters under our beds, the way he taught us to stick up for ourselves, and the endless afternoons at the local park. Dad passed on his strong-willed trait to all three of us. He taught us that blood is thicker than water and brothers are forever.
“I will never forget the sound of Dad’s laughter. As a child, you remember those happy times. The way he would dance with Mom and sweep her off her feet, he was a romantic with a good heart.
“Dad wasn’t perfect, but when it comes down to it at the end of the day, no one is perfect. The majority of the time, Dad was a strong, proud, and loving father and husband. I had Dad on a pedestal, and he earned my respect. When I look at old photos of him happy and smiling, and home videos where we were all a tight-knit family—that is how I will remember him and how I will describe him to those who didn’t know him.
“Dad, your guiding hand upon my shoulder will remain with me forever. Rest in Peace.”
****
I believe that it’s insulting to speak ill of the dead, so I refrained from saying anything inappropriate and take my seat. Mom has tears streaming down her face, and a single tear escapes my eye.
The guests all stand and place a single flower on the casket. We have a photo of Dad in a frame next to the casket—it's such a great picture, he is smiling and looks genuinely happy. As the curtain closes around the casket “Stand by Me” by Ben E. King starts to play.
The lyrics about not crying or shedding tears is Dad personified. We all stood by him, and we watched him drink himself into an early grave. We were supportive, loving, and did our best.
Even Tyler sheds a tear. He remembers the good times with Dad. He honestly was the best father in the world once upon a time.
Nothing we ever did was good enough for Dad, though, and it hurts like hell.
But I think the song also resembles the four of us now standing by each other. The land is dark, but we won’t be afraid as long as we stand by each other. I’ll stand by Mom, Tyler, and Thomas.
It’s like our world is crumbling, but in a way, it’s like a bulldozer in a knockdown and rebuild home. Jimmy Caine is gone. The Caine legacy will live on through his three sons.
It’s like the heavens above have opened up, or Jimmy is up there causing havoc, because we are in for one hell of a storm.
“Have you heard the weather reports, Tyson?” Mr. Monroe asks me the next week at work.
“No sir, are they forecasting rain?” I ask totally clueless.
“Much worse, boy. A tornado warning is in effect. We haven’t had one in these parts in over thirty years,” he replies, and now, he has my attention. I gaze out the window and can see the trees blowing crazily. Shit, that came out of nowhere.
“You can finish early today, Tyson. Go home to your family and Brooklyn, and stay safe,” he tells me ushering me into the staff room.
“Yeah, that sounds like a plan. The wind is really picking up,” I agree grabbing my bag and keys. “You and Mrs. Monroe stay safe too,” I say as I hurry to my truck, the wind gusts forcing me backward.
Me:
Bad weather coming this way, baby, where are you?
I message Brooklyn quickly as I start my engine and zoom off towards Cedar Lake.
Brooklyn:
Yeah, Dad, just saw the news. We are at home, thinking about going down to the basement. You still at work?
Me:
No, driving home now. I’ll check on Tyler and Thomas then I’ll come to you. xxx
Next, I pull over to quickly text Tyler.
Me:
Hey, Tyler, bad weather headed this way. Where are you? Is Tommy with you?
No time to mess around. I’m just driving home from work, and the weather is getting bad.
The extreme gusts of wind hit hard and forceful, each burst stronger than the last. I see the tree branches swaying and bending wildly; it has also started to rain, and it’s getting heavier by the minute.
I dial Mom’s cell phone—even though she is at work, she may answer.
“Tyson, I’m so worried about you boys. Are you safe?” she asks me sounding stressed as she answers.
“I’m just driving home from work. I’ll be home in ten minutes, and we will head to the cellar. What about you, Mom?” I question her feeling worried. “I know you have a duty of care toward your patients, but what about keeping you safe too?” I plead with her, hoping the hospital would have a plan of action in case of a tornado warning.
“Yes, we will be fine. Just please take care of your brothers,” Mom insists sounding shaky.
“Of course, I will.” It’s a job I take seriously.
“I love you. Stay safe and keep in contact with me,” she tells me as we end the conversation.
I increase my driving speed—I can’t risk getting stuck somewhere if the weather gets worse. I put my phone on speaker again and call Tyler’s cell.
“You have reached Tyler Caine. Leave me as message and maybe I’ll call you, maybe I won’t.”
God, I hate his message. Shit, where the hell is he?
The rain starts to fall heavier, and my windshield wipers can only go so fast. Goddamn it. The truck shakes slightly as the wind blows it sideways from the force. I desperately dial our house phone next.
“Hello?” Thomas answers. Thank God.
“Oh Tom, I’m so glad you are at home. Is Tyler with you? Did you hear there’s a huge storm with possible tornados coming,” I say before he can get a word in.
“No, Tyler isn’t here. I don’t know where he is,” he responds. “I heard about the weather, it’s getting crazy already. I’ve locked all the doors and windows. Is it safe here in the house, Tyson?” he questions me sounding a little worried.
“Honestly, if it gets really bad, you have to get into the cellar, Tom, but I should be there in less than ten minutes,” I state. “Can you do me a favor and get supplies ready for us to take into the cellar. It might get extreme, and we need to be ready, bro.” I urge to keep him as safe as possible.
“Grab whatever food you can in a backpack just in case a tornado actually hits and dress warm,” I order him, and as the words leave my mouth, I realize that this could end up quite serious.
“Okay, Tyson, I’ll do everything you said. Drive safe,” he tells me, and his voice sounds jittery.
“I will see you soon, bro. It will all be okay,” I reply assuring him I will be home soon.
I dial Brooklyn’s number. God, I’m so glad for my hands-free phone kit; it’s a godsend for situations like this where I have to drive and talk on my cell. I also have my charger plugged in—I can’t risk not having a charge.
“Brooklyn, are you still safe?” I almost shout with worry into the phone.
“Yes, baby, I’m safe. We are in the basement now,” she replies as I exhale the breath I was holding.
“Thank God, I’ve been so worried,” I tell her honestly.
“I love you,” she tells me, and it makes me smile hearing those words.
“I love you too, Brooke,” I declare meaning it more than ever.
“Are Tom and Tyler safe?” she asks me sounding concerned.
“Thomas is at home, and I should be the
re in five minutes. God knows where Tyler is,” I reply wondering where the hell he might be. “Can you try calling Tyler for me and if he doesn’t answer text around and see if he is with Chelsea or the football guys?” I ask Brooklyn since I can’t do all that while driving.
“Yep, I’ll do it right now,” she responds.
“Talk soon,” I tell her as she hangs up.
Why the hell can’t anyone find Tyler? I’m buying him a tracking device for his next birthday!
He’s infuriating! The fact that he’s not answering could mean a million different things. I won’t let my mind think the worst just yet, as this is Tyler after all.
I remember that I have Chelsea’s number. Mom insisted I add it to my contacts the last pep rally. But that goes straight to voicemail too. Damn it…
Five minutes later, I drive like a bat out of hell into our driveway. The storm has become quite severe. The rain is pouring down so I make a run for it. I have my keys ready to unlock the door. An unexpected gust of wind stops me in my tracks; it thrusts me backward taking me by surprise. “Shit,” I say aloud struggling to move forward.
I’m blown hard into my truck, so I brace myself, and after the next gust, I push myself off and propel toward the front door. Three, two, one, the wind hits full throttle. I’m wedged against my truck unable to move, and I ride it out until it eases. Then I push forward running like I’m off to score a touchdown.
I finally reach the porch and hold on tight to the rail, bracing myself for the next wind burst. Almost like clockwork, the next gust hits so I wait it out ready to get inside the house. Thank God that one wasn’t quite as huge. I’m at the door like lightning and unlock and enter, slamming it shut and locking it again.
“Tyson, thank God it’s you,” Tom shouts out running from our room.
“Oh Tom, shit, dude, it’s freaking crazy out there, like worst I’ve ever seen,” I state to him still in shock at just how strong the wind actually was.
I give Tom a huge bear hug, holding him tight. I’m so grateful that he is safe. “What do we do if Tyler doesn’t come home, Ty? Do you know where he is?” he asks me sounding worried for Tyler’s safety.