Epiphany

by Ashley Suzanne

  One time when I was younger, my mother told me something that has me wanting to punch

  Skylar in the face for being such a clueless tool sometimes.

  “When someone asks you a question, or keeps asking the same question, chances are they already know the answer. It’s best to just tell the truth.”

  My mom is one smart cookie. Even after all these years, it’s the little things like this, the words she would speak casually, that provide the most insight into my life as an adult. She wasn’t always a perfect mom, but she got the job done and did it right.

  “So … dinner tonight, just us?” Skylar reiterates.

  “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to my mom about the engagement. I’ll probably

  try to catch up with her later on. Maybe get some ideas where to start in this wedding

  planning stuff. You have things you can do, right? Something at the shop?”

  Third time’s a charm?

  “Yeah, I can find something to do. There’s always something to work on.”

  I quit. I’m done. There’s absolutely no hope for him.

  “Alright. I’ll talk to you later, then.” I excuse myself from the table, rush into the master

  bathroom and lock the door. I can only take so much of him omitting information.

  I know I should just ask him like a real adult, but I want Skylar to feel comfortable

  talking to me, telling me what’s going on in his life. Why is it important enough

  for Danny to know, but not me? They just talked about it hours before Danny told

  me. It couldn’t have slipped his mind. There’s a reason behind my not knowing, and

  it’s eating at me.

  After scalding my body with water as hot as I can withstand and dancing around washing my body to some Spice Girls, most of the stress washes down the drain. It’s silly and girly, but it usually does the trick. Yet again, my method works.

  Dressing in a pair of black yoga pants, a black tee shirt with a saying from one of

  my favorite books, and towel drying my hair just enough to not be sopping wet, I throw

  it up in another bun. I’m ready to start my day … again.

  On the dining room table, I find the mess Skylar left when he took off. He couldn’t have stayed more than a few minutes after I got in the shower. Whatever it was that he needed to get to must be pretty important for him not to finish his bagel or throw his cup in the sink.

  I quickly straighten up the kitchen and start the dishwasher. When I come home later,

  my mood is probably going to be shitty again and the last thing I need is to walk

  into a dirty house.

  Pulling a hoodie over my head and grabbing a pair of sneakers from the closet, I fling my purse over my shoulder and take the elevator to the parking garage.

  Heading to my car, I hear someone call my name. Once I register who it is, I snap. Since leaving Kylee’s yesterday and wondering about Skylar’s whereabouts, I totally forgot that she’s been missing for three days now. I consider ignoring her, but the garage isn’t that big and she’s bound to catch up to me. Best to hash this out right now so I can move on with the impromptu meeting at my mom’s.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I’ve been scared shitless that some creeper kidnapped and threw my best friend in a well. It doesn’t look like you’ve been putting lotion on your skin, so what the fuck happened?”

  “I was lost in writing, that’s all. I was home the entire time. Why didn’t you use

  your key?” Oh, sweet Kylee, today’s not the day to be a smart ass, I promise you that.

  “If you were on some crazy sex bender, I didn’t want to be part of it. I knew when you left our Pitch Perfect dance party that something was off. I knew that you were freaking out about Jacoby and his daughter. I figured you were either dead or letting the first string seniors at U of M run a train on you, trying to fuck Jacoby out of your mind. I didn’t want to stumble into either scenario.” Long winded, I know, but hell if every ounce of frustration and stress I washed down the drain doesn’t come back with a vengeance—kinda like the hair that gets caught in the drain. You think it’s gone, but it’s just there waiting to fuck with you again.

  “Well, I’m glad you think so highly of me,” Kylee whispers. I should be concerned

  with hurting her feelings, but if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times—if

  you say it, you better own that shit.

  “You don’t get to flip this around. You leave my house late at night after coming

  over because you’re upset. You don’t answer your phone or the door. You scared me,”

  I say, trying to hold strong, but the girl who’s planned her wedding in her head since

  she was six comes sneaking into the conversation.

  “Don’t fucking do it again or I’ll cut you out of my wedding.” Let’s see if she picks up

  on my subtlety.

  “Skylar proposed?” She wins. Finally, someone today gets it. I want to be upset with her and be a bitch, but truth be told, I’ve never been able to stay angry with Kylee. That’s the tricky thing about unconditional love—you can’t just stop, it lasts forever.

  “He did. It was magical and I wish that my best friend was the first person I told.

  I tried to keep it in, Ky, I really did, but I had to tell someone. Danny’s so happy for us.” And here comes

  the lie word vomit, but I’m on a roll here. “I was worried he would freak, but he and Melissa already gave us their RSVP.”

  “I’m so happy for you, Mi. Let me see that ring.” I feel with my fingers, making

  sure I didn’t take it off in a fit of anger. Touching the cool metal on the tips

  of my thumb, I thrust my hand forward, showing off my one of a kind ring. Just seeing

  the black encircled by red makes me almost forget how much I want to kick Skylar’s

  ass. Almost.

  “I really do have to go, though. I’m not ignoring you. Skylar needs some dinner taken to him at the shop since he’s doing to be there a few more hours. You know how he gets when he’s hungry.” I have to get out of here before she catches on to the lies. They say, to make a lie believable, don’t give too much detail—keep it natural. But here I am, giving her every unnecessary detail. If anyone ever drags me on the Maury show, I’m pretty much fucked before I even get on the airplane.

  The lie detector test has determined that you ARE a full of shit liar and a terrible friend.

  “Okay, I’ll come by next week and we’ll catch up. I need to meet Jacoby at his house anyway.”

  Hugging Kylee goodbye, I’m feeling rather guilty for being such a dick … oh and being a liar. I consider calling her in a few minutes, once we’re not face to face, and repenting for my indiscretion, but I decide against it. There’s nothing I can say to repent for this. Who lies to their best friend about stupid shit that doesn’t matter? I’ll look like the craziest bat in the cave. It’s embarrassing enough to think that your man’s cheating on you, but to spread that information like wildfire—that’s just nuts.

  I’ll make it up to her somehow. Probably with cupcakes and a bottle of wine. Yeah, that sounds like the perfect plan.

  Angling into the car, I make my way to my mom’s house. Hopefully, she’ll say something that I won’t understand the meaning of today, but tomorrow will make a whole lot of sense.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mira

  “Ma. Where are you? I’ve been knocking on your door for at least five minutes.”

  “I’m not home, Mira,” she responds nonchalantly.

  “But your car’s here.” Something tells me to not press the issue. That I won’t like the answer she’ll give me.

  “Sweetheart, I’m with a friend,” she says in a hushed tone. The sound of male laughter comes across the line. She’s with a man? I’ve heard stories about Linda and Patty, but those don’t sound like dude names

  to me.

  “What
friend, Mom?” I ask, skeptical as she’s never once mentioned a male friend in

  all the times we’ve spoken over the last few months which isn’t like her. If there’s

  something new, it doesn’t matter the time, my phone’s a ringing, getting told stories

  of blood moons and who said what at church. The gossip train stops at her house at

  regular intervals.

  “Mira,” she warns. I’ve not gotten this tone since I was sixteen and was running around the pharmacy asking for the hemorrhoid cream that my mom needed terribly. Well not really, but it was funny as hell at the time. Kylee and I caught a lot of shit that day.

  “Mother,” I scold back, not letting her brush this one under the rug. Seven years ago, I would have dropped it, but not this time. I’m a grown up now and I’ve learned the art of matching tone with her.

  “His name is Chip. He had some work things to tie up in Traverse City and asked me to

  join him. So I did, and we’re having a relaxing weekend up here.” So, we just run off with strange men on a whim?

  Chip? Chip! No. I’m totally down for my mother finding her happiness and getting back into

  the dating pool. Shit, it’s been at least ten years since she last went out with

  a man that wasn’t strictly platonic. But Chip? Come on, is that even a real name? If she says she met him on an internet dating site, I

  might have to give her the same speech she gave me when we first got a computer.

  Stranger danger and all that mess.

  “Well, when will you and Chip be home? I have some things to talk to you about.” I’m barely able to keep a straight

  face while saying his name. I really hope that she doesn’t expect me to meet him

  until I can say it without cracking a smile or laughing uncontrollably.

  “We’re taking a long weekend. Honey, when are we going home? Tuesday?” she asks

  her friend.

  Hold the phone. Chip is honey? Honey is Chip? Am I in a twilight zone? I can’t remember my mother ever calling my father by anything but his name and she gets on Skylar’s ass for calling me Sweets instead of my given name. What in the world is happening? Scanning my surroundings for any sign of an impending apocalypse, I’m proven wrong by the kids across the street building a snowman out of the melting snow. Nope. There’s now no excuse for her behavior.

  A muffled voice, like she’s holding her hand over the receiver, sounds in agreement to her Tuesday assessment.

  “Yep. I’ll be home on Tuesday.” Yeah, mom, I heard that already. My face twists in disgust when a kissing noise follows. With my stomach cringing

  and my lips snarled together, I try to end the call as quickly as possible.

  “Alright, I’ll come by then,” I concede, standing up from the stoop and walking back to my car.

  “You okay, baby girl?” she asks with the motherly concern I’ve need today more than I have in a while.

  “Yeah, Ma. I’m good. Just need to talk. Have some mommy time.” It’s been quite a long time

  since I’ve called her anything but mom or ma, let alone think of calling her mommy.

  It’s kind of sad how much things have changed over the years. Okay, I can’t do this

  again—thinking about the past and getting all upset about it. Get your shit together, Mira. Time to act like the adult you are.

  “Okay, then. I’ll see you Tuesday. I’ll cook us a good dinner. Maybe some pork chops and au gratin potatoes?”

  “That sounds amazing, Mom. Have a good time and call me when you’re home and settled.”

  “Okay, love you, precious.”

  “Love you, too. Bye.” I hit the end button and toss the phone into my purse.

  A small smile crosses my lips. Telling myself she met him at church or the grocery store, I’m happy my mom has finally found someone. Regardless of my feelings toward a certain penis card carrying man, the fact that she’s not alone anymore makes me happy. I just wish his name wasn’t Chip.

  Sitting in the driveway, unsure of where to go, my mind flies back to my own problems. Do I go home, where I’ll most likely be alone until Skylar decides to grace me with his presence? Do I track down Kylee, who I know is at Jacoby’s house? I could call Danny and see if we can talk now.

  I hate making decisions. It kind of appears that no matter what door I choose, I’m alone or the third wheel. Damn Skylar for putting me in this position.

  Without another thought, I put the car in reverse, pull out of the driveway and hope my choice won’t bite me in the ass.

  My first stop is the shop. Even though I know in my gut that Sky isn’t here, I have to give him the benefit of the doubt if I’ll be able to call him out on it later.

  I park in the lot behind the building, not seeing any other cars. It’s not really

  a tell tale sign that he’s not here, since they can park inside, so I proceed to the

  entrance. Trying to turn the handle, I’m met with resistance. Locked.

  I hit the afterhours buzzer next to the door, but it goes unanswered. Getting frustrated, I walk to the

  front of the building, only to see a sign on the window that says:

  Shop is CLOSED. For emergencies call 313-777-7777.

  So … it’s true. He’s closed up shop, literally, and didn’t think to tell me. I really do hate when Danny’s right. I’m not sure what bothers me more—the fact that Skylar felt the need to talk to Danny about this or that he didn’t talk to me. It’s a pretty fucked up situation any way you look at it.

  Getting back in the car, I go to the next logical stop on my mission to track down my fiancé … the Hooliganz clubhouse.

  I don’t have to wait at the gate too long before the probe, Brock, opens without hesitation.

  I sometimes wonder if every new prospect has to learn the faces and cars of all the

  wives or girlfriends. I’ve never had to wait more than a few minutes. Either I’m

  right or security these days is lax.

  Pulling through to the lot, I examine the cars and bikes parked around. My stomach

  recoils, threatening to spill its contents, when I don’t see Skylar’s truck. Some

  of these crazies insist on riding year round, snow and ice be damned. At least Sky has a little sense to only ride when the roads are free of

  salt, pot holes and a below freezing temperature.

  Now that I’m here, I need to go inside for something. There are cameras all over this building, including the exterior, and they can all see me standing here like some kind of stalker. Leaving before seeing anyone just screams, “crazy girlfriend,” and that’s something I can’t have.

  Straightening my clothes and spine, I march to the main entrance, as nervous as I’ve ever been. I’m not exactly sure if I’m allowed to be here without Skylar bringing me. This is as good a time as any to find out, I guess.

  As soon as I’m through the threshold, I’m met by four met instead of the usual one. A sense of unease envelops me as they begin to search through my belongings. Being an old lady, the girlfriend or wife of a club member, has always afforded you certain rights—rights to not have a rather large burly looking man rifle through your tampons in search of a grenade launcher.

  Once all my lady products are put back in their respective places and my purse is tucked snuggly between my arm and body, I continue into the clubhouse, feeling slightly violated. I keep moving straight to the bar, where Kimmy, Prowler’s wife, is nursing her beer.

  “Hey,” I say, taking the stool next to hers.

  “Hey yourself. Lance, get this girl a beer. Looks like she needs one,” Kimmy hollers to the bartender,

  raising her head only once to acknowledge my presence.

  I wave my hand at Lance, declining the beer and move closer toward her.

  “Kim?” I question. Sad, defeated eyes meet mine. I’ve never seen her as anything but happy and cheerful. This new, depressed version of her breaks my heart, but fill
s me with hope. Maybe, just maybe, my Hooligan isn’t the only douche in the canoe.

  “It’s Maddie, isn’t it?” she slurs, not taking her eyes off the brown tinted bottle

  in front of her. Who the hell is Maddie?

  “Kimmy, I don’t know …” I’m cut off when a large, strong hand comes down on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. Not enough to inspire any fear within me, but just firm enough to lend some comfort, though I’m not sure why.

  “Babe, how about you head upstairs. You look like you could use some rest,” Prowler softly says to his wife, kissing the top of her head. He may look like a scary man, but with Kimmy, who everyone around here calls Kinky, he melts into a puddle of mush.

  She obliges, a tight smile on her lips, she stumbles slightly on her journey to the

  stairs. Extra security, a drunk, sad Kinky and an over protective Prowler? Something weird is going on around here … everywhere. The whole world and everyone

  in it has lost their damn minds. I’m starting to think I’m the only one with any

  sense left.

  “What ‘cha doing here, Mira? Axe isn’t around.” Prowler’s voice comes across distant but not punishing. Maybe I am allowed to be here without Skylar?

  “I was going to have some time with my mom, but she’s busy. I just wanted to stop

  by to see if Axe wanted to grab a bite before I head home,” I lie. I must say, I’m

  getting better at this whole lying thing. Also, I really hate calling Skylar by his

  club name. I know it’s protocol around these parts, but it feels so … impersonal. Sky’s explained to me

  before the need for a road name, but I think it’s stupid as shit. There’s nothing

  in life that you should be doing, especially if you’re an adult, that requires a secret identity. As far as I can tell, there’s no Batman around here,

  ridding the world of crime and violence.

  “He should be back within the hour, if you wanna hang out and wait,” he replies, holding up one finger, requesting a drink from Lance.