Jace

by Jessie Cooke

“Where’s my sister?”

  “She’s safe, son. She’s with one of the social workers. Can we sit for a minute?”

  “I need to see her. I have to see that she’s okay. She’s probably scared to death. She doesn’t like strangers…”

  “They’re medical professionals, she’s fine. Can we sit, please?”

  Jace made a noise in his throat and Gabriel must have known he was close to losing it. He put his hand on Jace’s back, and softly said, “Let’s hear him out, Jace, okay?” Jace felt like breathing was getting harder, but he nodded and let Gabriel guide him over to one of the chairs in the lobby. They all sat and the officer said:

  “I need to contact your father. Is there any other way we can find out where he is, or how to get in touch with him? The numbers I’ve been calling have Boston area codes; is that where he lives?”

  Jace nodded. He was afraid to tell the officer where to find the Colonel. He didn’t know if the old man was still drinking, or how bad things might have gotten. The last time he spoke to Myrna, she hadn’t heard from him in weeks. Jace was afraid if they found him in one of his drunken stupors, they’d put Rosie in foster care until Myrna was better…and they wouldn’t let him see her. “After I see Rosie…and Myrna…I’ll go talk to him,” Jace said. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but he thought that was a better way. It would give him time to think at least.

  “Son…” The officer looked sad. “The doctors have told me that they don’t believe your stepmother is going to make it. I need to find your father.”

  Jace’s entire world was spinning out of control, again. “Where’s Rosie?”

  He felt Gabriel’s hand on him again. He knew that he should be asking about Myrna, but he really couldn’t think about that right then. “Jace, is there anyone you can think of that might know how to reach your father?” That was Gabriel, talking in low, soothing tones, his Jamaican accent probably making it hard for the detective to understand him.

  “You can call his command,” Jace said. “If he’s out of town, they will know where.” Jace rattled off the number that he’d memorized when he was eight years old and home alone, and the detective wrote it down. “Can I see my sister now?” he asked, as he stood up. The other two men stood as well and the detective said:

  “Sure, but Rosie has to stay here unless or until social services says she can go,” the officer told him. He must have sensed that Jace’s mind was racing and filled with crazy thoughts. He nodded, however. Right then, Jace just needed to see her and know for sure that she was okay. The officer led him past the information desk and down a long hallway. He pushed a button on a door at the end of the hall and a disembodied voice said:

  “Can I help you?”

  “Officer Daley to see Mary Green.” While they waited, he told Jace, “Mary is the social worker. She’s a nice lady.” Jace didn’t say anything, but followed the officer through the doors when they buzzed. He realized they were on a pediatric floor. The walls were decorated with beautiful, bright pictures of animals and flowers, fairies and trees. Most kids would love it, but Jace knew that Rosie wouldn’t. She was easily overstimulated, and between the bright colors and large pictures…and the loud screaming he could hear echoing in the hallway…she was probably losing her little mind. Jace quietly followed the officer to a door that was marked “Quiet Room.” He opened that door and Jace let out the breath he’d been holding in for over an hour. Rosie was on the floor staring at a number puzzle. Her dark hair was down over her face and she didn’t look up when the door opened. That wasn’t unusual. There was a dark-haired woman sitting on one of the couches and she said:

  “Look, Rosie, I think you have a visitor.” Rosie still didn’t raise her head, and she wouldn’t for a stranger’s voice. Even her bitchy aunt they’d lived with for a while, before she left for Europe, couldn’t get a response from Jace’s little sister.

  “Rosie?” Jace tried to keep the stress out of his voice when he said her name. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her any more than he assumed she already was. That was when she raised her head and as the hair fell out of her face, Jace saw her dark eyes. His heart swelled when he saw the light fill her eyes. He dropped to his knees and she got up off the floor, stepping on top of the puzzle to get to him. Jace wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He wished that he never had to let go.

  The next several days were stressful and chaotic. The officer found Jace’s old man. He wasn’t drunk, thankfully. It appeared to Jace when he finally saw him that the Colonel may have swum out of his misery and stopped trying to drown in it and alcohol. He looked as sharp as he always did, and he was just as cold…especially when he spotted Jace.

  “What are you doing here?” the Colonel asked when he spotted Jace in the ICU waiting room.

  “I could ask you the same,” Jace said, sarcastically. The Colonel narrowed his eyes at him and said:

  “Don’t be a disrespectful little shit. My wife…”

  “Your ex-wife.”

  “We were still married.”

  “Myrna didn’t think so.” Jace knew this was a stupid, pointless argument and not the time for it at all. He just felt such a seething hate for the man that he could hardly see straight.

  “I’m not dealing with you,” the Colonel said, turning his back on him.

  “Have you asked about Rosie, at all?” The Colonel stopped in his tracks and spun around.

  “Of course I’ve asked about her! I’m not a monster.” Jace snorted and his father went on. “I’m picking her up today and taking her home, right after I see my wife.” Jace had been hanging around long enough that he knew Myrna was on life support. The doctors believed she was brain dead. The option to keep her on the machines or unplug them and let her die had been presented to the Colonel, according to a young nurse that Jace had befriended in his quest to find out what was going on. The Colonel had insisted they leave her. Jace was sure, even though he never got to know Myrna well, that she wasn’t the type of person who would have wanted that. She was a strong, proud woman and knowing she wasn’t even breathing on her own would destroy her…but Jace couldn’t waste his energy arguing with the Colonel about that…he had to be sure Rosie was going to be taken care of.

  “Let me come home,” Jace said. The Colonel cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms. He had a smirk on his face as he said:

  “Why should I do that? I thought you hated me.”

  Jace probably should have lied, but he just couldn’t do it. “I do,” he said, “but I also know the only reason you’re picking up Rosie is because you feel like you have to. Heaven forbid the Colonel shirk his duties as a father.” Jace rolled his eyes at that. As if a roof over their heads and food in their bellies had given the Colonel the right to even call himself a father. “I can help you. I can take care of her.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” The Colonel turned and started walking away again.

  “It’s going to cost you a fortune to get people who will be willing to stay with her. You won’t be able to work at all, they’ll be calling you all the time…”

  The Colonel didn’t stop or turn around. He simply said, “Fine, you can think of yourself as her caretaker.” He stopped then and spun towards Jace. In a low, menacing tone he said, “But make no mistake…you are no longer my son.”

  6

  Six Months Later

  “Come on, man, it’s your birthday.” Sonny wanted Jace to go out that night. It was Friday and Sonny knew he’d have someone to watch Rosie, which was usually his excuse not to go.

  “Yesterday was my birthday. Today is just another workday.” And so was yesterday. Jace’s birthday had never meant anything to anyone but himself, and only because when he was younger, he couldn’t wait to be old enough to get away from the Colonel. Now, his eighteenth birthday held even more significance. It meant he could start the paperwork to apply to become Rosie’s legal guardian.

  “Right, but tonight your sister’s care provider will be there,
right?”

  Rosie’s caregiver came every Friday night and spent the night with Rosie in her room. Her school had recommended her and the idea was to give Jace time to go out or rest or do whatever else he needed to do. He normally used the time to catch up on his sleep. Going out was overrated, he thought. Sleep was what he craved most of the time. “Yeah, she’ll be here,” Jace said, “but I’m tired, man, and I have homework to do…”

  “You act like an old man. You can’t do nothing but take care of your sister your whole life.”

  “I’m all she’s got, Sonny. I’m not going to abandon her.”

  Rosie’s mother was in a nursing home now, a vegetable who lay in a bed all day, getting turned over every two hours by the nurses and fed through a tube. That was all that was keeping her alive. Myrna’s sister came home from Europe not long after the accident. Technically, since the Colonel and Myrna were divorced, the sister was in charge of making medical decisions for her. As it turned out, however, the sister wanted nothing to do with any of it. She signed over power of attorney to the Colonel, a man her sister hated, and she went back to Europe. The Colonel was right back in the position he wanted to be in all along…in charge of his and Myrna’s relationship. He got up every morning, dressed, and went to sit at the nursing home she was at now in Boston. The nurses thought it was sweet. Jace knew better. This was about control. This way, the Colonel won: Myrna needed him. He refused to let them remove the feeding tube…he was keeping her alive for his own twisted sense of control, and it made Jace sick.

  Jace concentrated on what he could do, which was taking care of Rosie. Thankfully, by that time, Myrna’d had her enrolled in school and other programs for special needs children. It wasn’t too hard to get her transferred to a school Jace found close by in Boston that had great reviews. He did most of it online and all the Colonel had to do was sign some paperwork and write a check. He still rarely spoke to Jace, but he did sign whatever his son put in front of him and told him was for Rosie.

  Jace couldn’t continue taking the train for over two hours each way to work for Gabriel, but his goodhearted boss had introduced him to a friend who ran a restaurant in South Boston and Jace had gotten a job there. The place was only open for breakfast and lunch, which was perfect for Jace’s schedule. He worked seven days a week. Monday through Friday it was while Rosie was in school and on Saturday and Sunday, he took her with him to the little cafe. She was afraid of the trains at first, but after a while it became routine to her like everything else. Jace was discovering that as long as he kept to her routine, things went fairly smooth most of the time. While Jace worked, she sat at a table in the back and colored in her coloring book.

  Once home from work, on school days, he’d have to walk about a mile to pick her up at the bus stop. When they got home he’d look through her backpack and read all the notes and announcements and lay out whatever the Colonel needed to sign. Then he would play with her for a while and let her play with her tablet while he made dinner. After they both ate, he’d help her get ready for her shower, and then bed. The Colonel usually got home around nine. He’d fix his own dinner and sit in the recliner watching television until bedtime. Sometimes if Rosie was still awake, she’d try to talk to him. He couldn’t understand her and it was obvious to Jace that he could barely tolerate her. It was hard for Jace to watch and keep his mouth shut…but he was learning things ran a lot smoother as long as he let the Colonel believe he was in control. Once Rosie fell asleep, Jace would spend a couple of hours on some certification courses he’d found online for mechanics and welding and if he was lucky, he got a few hours of sleep before it was time to start all over again the next day. He would love to take a course where he could put his hands on something besides a model bike or car, but that would require much more of a financial and time investment than he could afford at the moment. He learned to do what he could and not hope for too much so that he wouldn’t end up disappointed.

  “Compromise with me, man. I’ll come to Boston so you don’t have to take the train, and we’ll go out somewhere in your neighborhood, have a few drinks, check out the local ladies, and you’ll be close to home whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m not sure where my fake ID is…”

  “You left it in my car last time we went out. Think of another excuse, man, I’ve got an answer for them all.”

  Fuck. Jace knew the only way he’d get Sonny off the phone and get on with his day would be to just say yes, so he did. He had all day to text his friend and tell him he changed his mind…but just then, he had to get on with his morning.

  Sonny was as persistent the next time Jace spoke with him as he had been that morning. Rosie was occupied with her caregiver and the Colonel had taken up his space in the living room. Jace finally said what the hell and told Sonny to pick him up at ten. Jace heard Sonny’s loud little Toyota drive up even before his friend honked. He grabbed his coat on the way out and the Colonel didn’t even look up as he left.

  “You ready to party, fool?” Sonny asked him when he folded himself into the little car.

  “Not too late.” Jace was already prepared for taking a cab home. He knew they’d get there and Sonny would get drunk, hit on every woman in the place, and refuse to leave until after last call and they kicked him out. “Where are we going?”

  “I heard about this place called Spirits on the Southside. It sounds cool.” Jace had seen the little bar many times. He’d often seen the parking lot filled with Harleys, and that was the only memorable thing about the dumpy little place. But at least they probably wouldn’t pay too much attention to their IDs, if they even asked for them. Jace had always looked older than he was, and lately Sonny had grown a mustache and beard and now he looked much older than his nineteen years.

  Jace was felt a little thrill in his belly when he saw that the lot out front was filled with big, powerful-looking Harley Davidson motorcycles. There were trikes and hogs, Softails and custom bikes. He knew the year of most of them by a look alone. The custom ones threw him slightly, but they were the most fun to look at. Jace was attracted to all the chrome, and the shiny paint and the fat tires. Once they parked and he got closer to the bikes he realized that these weren’t the Southside Skulls bikes. The emblems painted on some of the gas tanks said, “Black Warriors.” Jace wondered what they were doing in Doc Marshall’s territory. He often thought about the man with the bright blue eyes telling him to look them up when he was older. Rationally, he knew that lifestyle would never work where Rosie was concerned, but he still dreamed of being a biker one day.

  The dark little bar was crowded and the crowd was mixed. There was a large group of what looked like college kids, a few older, single guys, a couple of tables of single ladies, and a handful of “Black Warriors.” On the back of their vests it said, “Salem Chapter.” Jace wondered what they were doing out of Salem. From all he had seen in Boston growing up, and read since then, he knew MCs didn’t usually stray far from their own territory.

  Sonny had picked a high-top table near the back of the bar and the two young friends took it and ordered their beer. They were close to where the group of college kids were playing darts and talking shit; a few of them were making out with cute young girls. Jace knew Sonny picked that table so that they could ogle the girls in their tight jeans or short skirts. He didn’t mind, the view was good––he just hoped his friend kept his big mouth shut once his blood was full of alcohol. Once they ordered their beers, Jace looked back to where the Warriors were. They were talking loudly, drinking and smoking, and a few of them were either holding onto a woman with one arm around her shoulders, or they were making out with one. They laughed, danced, and groped their women, and overall looked like they were having a great time. Jace couldn’t help but wonder once more what it would be like to just live free and easy like that.

  As they drank, Sonny talked about the women and which ones he’d like to do, and what he’d like to do to them. Sonny tried flirting with a few of them that looked
unattached, but he wasn’t having much luck. Jace kept one eye on the guys throwing darts while still watching the Black Warriors. The bikers were getting drunker and louder and from what Jace could tell, they were celebrating someone’s birthday. “Check it out,” Sonny said after he finished his fifth, or maybe sixth, beer. Jace looked in the direction Sonny was. One of the college girls, a blonde with massive tits, was standing in front of the women’s bathroom door, and she was looking at Sonny. “She wants me.”

  Jace laughed. “Maybe the toilet is backed up and she thinks you’re the hired help.”

  “Fuck you, man. Jealousy does not become you.”

  “She’s been hugged up to that preppy-looking blond guy all night. He looks like the fucking captain of a football team or something.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s benched the quarterback,” Sonny said, looking toward the pool tables. Jace looked in that direction and saw the blond quarterback. He had a little brunette pushed up against one of the tables and they were making out. The brunette’s small hands were on his ass. “I’m going to save the game for her,” Sonny said.

  Jace chuckled. “Coach is sending in the second string, huh?”

  Sonny laughed but said, “Fuck you. Sonny’s in a league of his own. Watch and learn.” Jace kept his eyes on Sonny until he got to where the blonde was standing in front of the bathroom. She opened the door behind her with one hand and took the front of Sonny’s shirt and pulled him inside with the other. He chuckled again. Fucking Sonny, he was the luckiest son of a bitch on earth sometimes. If Jace had tried that, the girl would have probably run out of the bar screaming.

  “Hey there.” Jace heard the sultry voice behind him, but he didn’t bother to look that way. Women never hit on him…ever. A few seconds later the same deep, sexy female voice said, “Excuse me, big guy?” Jace turned then, just slightly, to make sure she was really talking to him. A woman was sitting at the table behind him, alone. She had shoulder-length brown hair and big, pretty green eyes. She smiled when Jace looked at her and he wondered how much she’d had to drink. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but have you got a light?”