Deserter

by Myers, Shannon

  “I joined up with Wolverine and forgot all about her until she showed up to the gathering with that piece of shit she married. All those feelings I thought were dead came flooding back and I knew I was fucked.”

  “Why didn’t you kill my old man and claim her as yours?”

  Angel studied me. “Why didn’t you kill Comedian and claim Mikey as yours? Yeah, I fuckin’ know about that. You of all people should know that life ain’t ever that simple.”

  “The baby—”

  “Mine. When your ma called and told me, I made plans to get the two of you out of town.” One look at him and I knew he was reliving it. His jaw tightened and he forced himself to continue.

  “I was too late. Apparently, Don couldn’t keep his goddamn hands off of her for even one night. Do you know how hard it was to look at the woman I loved and lie to her? To tell her she was going to be okay?”

  I plucked the joint from his hand and inhaled deeply, chasing after a high to avoid confronting my own demons. “Why’d you do it, Angel? Why’d you let yourself love her? It would’ve been so much easier to stay away—”

  Angel raked his fingers down his face. “Why’d I let myself? What makes you think I had any fuckin’ say in the matter? She was it—knew it the minute I saw her again.” He stood up, gnawing at his thumbnail while he paced.

  Unable to relax, I joined him. “Even knowing how it ended? You’re telling me that you’d still do it?”

  “If it meant I got to hold her in my arms, I’d do it in a fuckin’ heartbeat. Now, you gonna tell me why you’re really here? Cause I think it has shit to do with your ma.”

  “Wolverine thinks I’m in love with her.” I swallowed. “Fuckin’ crazy, right?”

  The look he gave me would’ve killed a lesser man. “Yeah,” he said sarcastically. “Really fuckin’ crazy.”

  “I ain’t you. She wasn’t my neighbor… she was a debt. And all I’ve done is fuck up her life. You tell me where that works out like a fairy tale.”

  He smiled. “You came here wanting to me tell you that love was bullshit, right?” I nodded. “Well, all I’ve heard is how you don’t feel like you deserve her. If that ain’t love, son, then I don’t know what is. What are you afraid of?”

  “Losing her,” I admitted quietly. “I couldn’t survive it and frankly, I don’t know how the fuck you have.”

  Angel nodded. “Look at me. I ain’t fuckin’ living; not really. But there are times when you say something, or you smile a certain way and you look just like her. And to me, that’s worth stickin’ around for.”

  * * *

  The sky was streaked with red and pink by the time I made it back home. I worked to construct an argument for why I’d been gone for so long as I walked into the house on legs that didn’t feel like mine anymore.

  The door to the nursery fell open under my hand and I was immediately hit with a pressing need to commit the moment to my mind; like I was on borrowed time.

  Kate’s bonnet lay discarded on the floor and the last rays of afternoon sun streamed in through the cracks in the blinds. Celia sat, slumped over in the armchair, fast asleep with a copy of Sylvia Plath’s Selected Poems open on her lap.

  Kate had managed to snag some of her mama’s hair in her fist and was tugging happily on it with small gurgles.

  I knelt beside them and ran my hands reverently over my daughter’s dark hair. She was the spitting image of Celia, but every time I studied her face, I looked for traces of myself.

  Mikey had my eyes, but Kate’s were green, just like her mama’s. Maybe it was fitting that nothing of me took; a sign that she’d never end up like her old man.

  She kept her grip on Celia’s hair, but snagged one of my fingers in her other fist; earnestly dragging it down toward her mouth with soft grunts.

  “Hey,” Celia said, reaching up to rub at her eyes. “I must’ve fallen asleep while she was nursing. What time is it?”

  “Just after five.”

  She stifled a yawn. “You want dinner? I’ve got some chicken breasts in the fridge—”

  “You wish that you would’ve done something else with your life—something that would’ve made your parents proud?”

  Her mouth snapped shut and she looked away as she fastened the buttons on her dress. “I—I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

  I cupped her jaw in my hand and brought her gaze back up to meet mine. “I’m asking if you regret this—if you regret us.”

  “Stop.” Celia shook her head, causing the little hand that was still wrapped up in her hair to wave like a small child holding a flag.

  “I knew this would happen. I wanted to think that they’d see us together and everything would be like it was, but that’s delusional. Life’s not a fairy tale.”

  I didn’t know about the emotional bullshit that went along with love, but I knew in that moment that I respected the hell out of my wife.

  I tapped a finger against the spine of her book. “Well, you would know. That’s some dark reading material, princess. She’s the one that met the Reaper with her head in an oven, right? Or was she the one who drowned herself in a river? It’s hard to keep track of your tortured artists and their suicides.”

  She disentangled herself from Kate’s grasp and smiled. “You were right the first time; it was the oven. Sometimes, I can’t quite get my thoughts organized. I can’t determine what it is that I’m feeling until my tortured artists sum it up for me in a poem or song.

  “Your comics do the same thing for you—they present a world where the hero defeats the villain, and everyone lives to fight another day… even if we know that’s not how life works.”

  I kept stroking Kate’s hair while nodding along to her words. I’d never considered what it was that drew me to comics in the first place, but I’d wished on more than one occasion to be something other than a kid who was afraid of his father.

  The baby let out a soft sigh and we both glanced down to see that she was fast asleep with her little pink lips pushed out into a pout. I took her from Celia’s arms and carried her over to the crib.

  “It’s not the typical bedtime story, is it? There are no princes slaying dragons to win over the heart of a princess,” I finally said as I pulled the blanket over Kate’s small body.

  “You got something better in mind?”

  I nodded, suddenly knowing exactly what I needed to do. “Come here.”

  I led her back into the living room and onto the couch before kneeling in front of her again. She placed a hand against my shoulder. “My doctor hasn’t cleared me for that yet, but I could… I could take care of you.”

  Her cheeks went pink as she tried and failed to get her point across without actually saying the words.

  I mashed my lips together, tempted to take her up on the offer and scrap my entire plan. “Not what I had in mind, Darlin’. I’ve, uh, I’ve got a story for you.”

  Lines appeared across her forehead as she narrowed her eyes. “You’re turning down a blow job… so you can tell me a story. Are you coming down with something? I thought you looked pale back at the church.”

  “Fuck, Celia, look at me. Do I look sick? Got something to tell you and I need you to shut up and let me.”

  She leaned back against the cushions and crossed her arms over her chest with a tight smile. “Forgive me for worrying about you. Go on, tell me your important story.”

  Fuck.

  She was supposed to be happy, not staring at me like she was looking for a good place to stick a knife.

  “You finished, princess?”

  She nodded but remained silent.

  “Good, got a story for you. You may think you’ve heard this one before, but you haven’t. Once upon a time, there was this man and he ran a biker club. Some said he was a god—”

  The corner of Celia’s mouth curled up into a grin. “A god… is that so?”

  “Gonna need you to hold all questions ‘til the end. So, this god—no one could stop him. He took what he wanted, wh
en he wanted and didn’t give a fuck what anyone said. If people crossed him, they paid for it— simple as that.”

  It was obvious that she was dying to say something else, but stayed quiet, waiting for me to continue.

  “He was surrounded by men who feared him and had everything he could ever want—except for her. She was like no one he’d ever met before and that bothered him. They said it was her beauty that made him want her, but it was more than that.”

  I paused and she leaned forward again, suddenly interested in where the story was headed. “He thought he wanted her like a trophy or another possession to add to his collection, but he was wrong. Maybe Hades never saw taking Persephone as kidnapping.”

  She placed a hand on my cheek and moved into my line of vision before quietly asking, “Why’d he do it then?”

  My knees were starting to go numb against the carpet, but I kept kneeling. She deserved my pain and she deserved the truth.

  Maybe the two were interchangeable.

  “Because he fuckin’ loved her.” The tone in my voice changed, as if I was on the verge of falling apart, and I cleared my throat. “I think he fell for her the first time he saw her. Like I did.”

  Her lips parted as she sucked in a surprised breath. She quickly recovered with an, “I don’t think you can say fuck in a bedtime story, Jamie.”

  With a low growl, I yanked her forward, silencing her objections with my mouth. I hadn’t done much right in my life but marrying Celia would never be something I regretted.

  Angel had it right. Maybe I had to let go of the idea of how things should’ve been between me and Celia and just see it for what it was. I’d won the fucking lottery with her.

  I pulled back. “I love you, princess. I know I’ve fucked up so much, but I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

  “I love you too, Jamie.” Celia let her forehead rest against my mouth with a soft sigh.

  She made me feel like I could have it all.

  The club.

  A family.

  And instead of fighting her, I found that I was starting to believe it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Grey: 1991

  “Darlin’, Daddy doesn’t know what ungh means. Let’s get rid of that pacifier and—” I slipped it out of Kate’s mouth and she immediately began shrieking. “Fuck, Katydid.”

  “Fu—fu—fu,” she whimpered back at me.

  I popped the pacifier back in and looked around in guilt. “Don’t say that word, okay?”

  She squirmed to get down out of my arms, sucking furiously on her pacifier while watching me with wide eyes. I set her down and she took off for her bedroom.

  I groaned, “Sweetheart, your party’s about to start. Let’s go look at the balloons again.”

  “Day-ee!” She yelled around the pacifier, looking like a 1920s mobster with a cigar clenched in between his teeth. “Day-ee!”

  I chuckled at the image as she led me over to the bookshelf in the corner of her room and pulled out the comic. “You want Daddy to read that?”

  “Day-ee!” She shouted in response and sat down, little legs bouncing in excitement. I never imagined that someone so small could have me completely wrapped around her finger, but she did.

  The doorbell rang just as I began and I paused. “Let’s go see who that is and then we’ll read, okay?”

  She shook her head and tried tugging me back down to the carpet with a grunt. I scooped her up and carried her, screeching like a hawk, into the den.

  It took a little while, but I’d finally discovered what my daughter had inherited from me—my temper. Celia had pointed it out one night as we sat at the table, trying to force feed Kate puréed green beans.

  She’d jerked her little chin up anytime the spoon came near her face, lips mashed together in defiance.

  “Oh my goodness,” Celia had exclaimed with a giggle. “It’s you!”

  Kate might’ve looked like her mama, but she acted just like her daddy.

  God help us all.

  Comedian stood on the other side of the front door, trademark grin plastered across his face. “I heard it was someone’s birthday today.”

  Kate went silent and watched him curiously. When he pulled a present from behind his back, she began squirming in an attempt to get to it.

  There was something about him baby-talking my daughter and acting like he had the slightest goddamn clue about how to parent that just set my teeth on edge.

  “Look who I brought with me.”

  Mikey came skipping up the sidewalk and Kate latched onto the side of his leg with a squeal. Her hands shot up and she began grunting through the pacifier again, clearly expecting to be held.

  He looked up at me with a grin. “Mr. Grey, can I hold her? I’m nine now.”

  I ruffled his hair and nodded. “Why don’t you come inside on the carpet though.”

  “Did you hear that, Katy? Your daddy says I can hold you.” He began making whistling sounds as he led her into the house. “Here, girl.”

  Comedian watched the entire procession before snapping, “Junior, she ain’t a damn puppy.”

  Kate shifted her pacifier to the side of her mouth and sternly barked once at him before going inside.

  “You hear that, Comedian? Turns out, she is a puppy.” I clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Where’s Betsy?”

  I was gonna have to give Celia a warning. The past year had not brought them any closer, even with frequent visits to see Mikey.

  He looked out toward the street. “Migraine. She said she was sorry to miss it.”

  I didn’t think for a second that Betsy was really sick; she just wasn’t down for any event where she knew she wasn’t going to get me alone.

  I glanced inside to see Mikey down on all fours, chasing after Kate. She fell onto the carpet, belly laughing at his antics and my chest clenched.

  “You know,” I turned back to Comedian. “When’s the last time you and Betsy had a weekend to yourselves?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I can’t even remember. We ain’t got a lot of help with Junior.”

  Kate squealed again and we both turned back toward the open doorway. “What if we kept him for the weekend? I can drop him off at school on Monday, but it might be good for the two of you to get away for a few days.”

  I watched as he thought it over, nodding to himself. “Yeah, that’d be nice. We could go down to my land and stay at the cabin. You sure you’re up for it? Kid’s kinda a handful.”

  Mikey fell back on the carpet, pretending to be asleep, while Kate climbed his chest.

  My kids.

  “We got this. It’ll be nice to have someone to play with Kate—”

  “I know of another way you could get a play mate for Kate… hell of a lot more fun too.”

  “Yeah, I’m familiar with it. So, you sticking around or you gonna get on the road while there’s still some daylight?”

  He stepped inside the living room. “Junior.”

  Mikey snapped to attention. “Yes, sir?”

  I didn’t miss the look of fear in his eyes or the way he moved Kate behind him as he faced the monster head on. My nostrils flared and I tightened my hands into fists.

  “Your mom and I are going out of town for a few days. You’re gonna stay here with Grey and be on your best behavior, am I clear?”

  He nodded quickly, fighting to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face. “Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”

  “Good.” Comedian began looking around. “Is Celia around? Thought I’d tell her hello before I take off.”

  I shook my head. “She’s getting ready for the party. I’ll tell her you were here.”

  I didn’t want him around my kids and I sure as fuck didn’t want him anywhere near my wife. She seemed to be the only person on the entire fucking planet who still thought there was some good in him.

  He thanked me again before disappearing and as his truck fired up outside, I watched my son transform in front o
f my eyes. He relaxed his shoulders and the smile returned.

  “Mr. Grey, thank you for letting me sleep over.”

  I nodded and clenched my jaw before heading toward the master bedroom. “Make yourself at home, kid.”

  “Yes, sir. You hear that, Katy? We can play all weekend!”

  I walked into our room to Kate shrieking something unintelligible in response.

  “Hey,” Celia poked her head out of the bathroom, curling iron in her hand like a weapon. If she’d been wearing more than a bra and panties, I might’ve seen her as more of a threat. “Who was here? The party doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.”

  I followed her back in and lowered the cover on the toilet before sitting. “Comedian brought Mikey. I told him to take Betsy away for the weekend—” My throat tightened, and I brought a hand up over my face.

  “Jamie? Baby, what’s wrong?” She knelt in front of me, letting her arms rest on top of my thighs.

  “I’m fuckin’ failing him. Kid’s ready to jump out of his skin anytime he hears Comedian’s voice.” My eyes stung and I kept my hand up. I didn’t want her to see me revert back to the scared kid who hid in closets when his old man was in a rage.

  I didn’t want either of my kids turning out like me, but Mikey was growing up just like I did, and that path only led to one destination.

  She stroked my forearms. “Hey, you’re not failing him. He loves you.”

  “What the fuck good does that do when I can’t keep him safe, Celia?”

  “I could talk to Comedian,” she offered, and I let my hand fall back down to my lap.

  “What?”

  “I could—you said yourself that he respects me—” I shook my head and her voice tapered off.

  “Said he respected you because he was scared of me. There’s a difference. Men like him believe that if there ain’t a dick between your legs, then you’re worthless.”

  Her lips moved into a flat line. “Then you’re gonna have to tell him yourself. It’s time. If Betsy can’t keep him away from Mikey, you have no other choice.”