“Get your shit together, Lily,” she said softly. “Rose is your best friend in the entire world, and you’re treating her like garbage.”
“Is that what she said?” I asked mutinously.
“No.” My mom let go of my arm and crossed hers over her chest. “She hasn’t said shit. I’ve seen you doing it. I know stuff has been hard for you lately. All of us are adjusting, and I don’t think it’s easy for any of us. But is this really the type of person you want to be?”
I turned and walked away without answering her.
Of course it wasn’t the type of person I wanted to be, I just didn’t know how to stop it. Part of me wanted everyone to leave me alone, and part of me wanted someone to make everything go back to the way it was. I never wanted to be blind again, but God, I hated feeling like this. I couldn’t get a handle on it.
Maybe chores would help. I was willing to try anything.
“Can I help you?” Charlie asked an hour later, bouncing into the bathroom after me, taking up what little space was left beyond where I knelt on the floor.
I wanted to snap at her, and that made me feel like shit. She was grinning and kind of swaying from side to side, and I could see how sweet she looked, but part of me wanted to yell at her to get out and let me do my chores.
“Sure,” I choked out, turning back to the tub. “Grab all the dirty towels and bring them to the laundry.”
“Okay!” she said happily. Then she started pulling the towels from the racks.
“Just the dirty ones,” I snapped.
“Oh.” She looked over at me wide-eyed, and swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
Inhaling through my nose, I fought the tears that threatened. “It’s okay,” I said finally. “Just put the clean ones back on the shelf, okay?”
She nodded and I went back to what I was doing, forcing myself not to look back at her to make sure she was doing what I’d asked. My annoyance had been so illogical that I was ashamed. It took about one minute for her to put the folded towels away, and then she was leaving the bathroom, dragging the dirty towels down the hall to the laundry room.
I was glad when she was gone. I felt like an asshole and I just wanted to be alone while I tried to get my temper under control. I assumed she wouldn’t be coming back, since I’d totally yelled at her, but a few minutes later, I froze when I heard her little voice behind me.
“Now what, sissy?” she asked, shifting from one foot to the other.
I burst into tears.
* * *
I’d done all my chores and had just dropped onto the couch for a break when I heard my dad’s bike roll up to the house. It was still a little early for him to be home, but I didn’t think anything of it. I was sweaty and kind of tired, and the only thing I cared about was making sure he didn’t walk over the clean floors in the kitchen.
“Let’s go, Lilybug,” Dad called from the front door, not even bothering to step inside.
“What?” I replied, turning my head to look at him.
“Put some shoes on,” he ordered. “And a coat.”
He closed the door between us, and I huffed in annoyance as I dragged my ass off the couch and slid some sneakers on my feet. Mom and Charlie were doing something upstairs, so I didn’t bother telling them I was leaving as I grabbed a jacket and went out front.
My dad was standing next to his bike, and when I reached him, he handed me my mom’s helmet without a word. As I put it on, he turned away and climbed on the bike, waiting patiently for me to climb on behind him. Once I was situated, we were off. I stared over his shoulder as we flew down the road and tightened my arms around his waist.
I loved my dad. He was the best man I’d ever met. As we cruised down winding roads, I felt my body begin to relax for the first time in months. It began in my shoulders and worked its way down my back until I was comfortably leaning against him, my helmet resting against his cut. I closed my eyes, and just for a second, I was thirteen again, disoriented but oddly unafraid as my dad took me on my first ride after the attack.
As we began to slow, I opened my eyes and realized we were at the gate outside the club’s property. We didn’t stop as the prospects on the gate opened it wide enough for us to pass through, and then we were gingerly riding down the smooth gravel until we’d reached the forecourt.
My shoulders were tight again by the time my dad had parked the bike.
“Follow me,” he said gruffly as we climbed off the bike.
He didn’t say another word as I followed him around the side of the clubhouse. Once we were in the grassy area out back, he kept walking. Half a football field from the back of the building, he stopped and turned to me, pulling a pistol from the holster under his cut and holding it out to me.
“Uh, what?” I asked in confusion, glancing back at the building behind us.
“Take it.”
I reached out and gripped the handle the way I’d been taught, then dropped my arm down so it pointed toward the ground, still staring at him in confusion.
“See that log?” he asked, pointing toward a downed tree. “Go to town.”
“Uh, what?” I asked again.
Dad sighed. “You got a lot of anger in ya, a lot of frustration,” he said quietly, reaching up to run his hand down the back of his head before crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t know what’s causin’ it. Don’t know how to help ya. Figured we could start with this.”
I just continued to stare at him.
“Shoot, Lilybug,” he ordered, lifting his chin at the tree. “Get it out, baby.”
I swallowed hard and turned toward the tree, widening my stance the way I was supposed to. Then I aimed and started firing. The first recoil took me by surprise, but I didn’t pause as I continued to shoot, making adjustments as I went until I could see the bark flying up off the log every time it was hit. It didn’t take long before I was out of bullets.
“Hand it here,” Dad said, gesturing for the gun.
As soon as I’d given it back, he pulled a box of ammo out of the front pocket of the hoodie he was wearing under his cut. He reloaded slowly so I could see how it was done, then handed the gun back to me.
We did that four times. By the fifth, I could barely raise my arms and finally stopped.
“You wanna talk?” he asked, dropping to his ass on the wet ground.
I followed him down and wrapped my arms around my knees. I wasn’t sure what to say. I barely knew why I was so angry all the time, and I had no idea how to explain it to someone else. All of the things that pissed me off seemed so small when I looked at them logically, but I couldn’t help the way I felt.
“This about Leo?” he asked, shifting to get more comfortable, but not looking at me.
“No,” I said quickly.
Silence surrounded us.
“Maybe some,” I clarified finally.
“Makes sense,” Dad said. “Not the man I’d choose for you, but I know you’ve always liked him.”
“He’s too old for me.”
“Glad you see that,” Dad said, humming a little in agreement.
“I can’t talk about this with you,” I said, leaning my chin on my knees.
“Sure you can,” he argued. “You can talk to me about anything.”
“And then watch you flip out? No, thanks.”
“Lily,” he said with a sigh. “Baby girl, I love you. There’s no one on this earth that loves you more than me.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat.
“I can tell you’re hurtin’. It’s festerin’ and tearin’ at you. If I gotta hear shit I don’t wanna hear so that you can finally say whatever it is you need to say—I can do that. Gladly. Ain’t nothin’ in this world that you can’t tell me. Can’t promise that I’ll like it, but I can promise that it’ll go no further than this field. I’m not gonna fly off the handle or bring shit up later when you piss me off, that ain’t my style.”
“I’m tired of everyone babying me,” I said when he was finished, em
otion making my voice wobble. “And I feel like an asshole because I know everyone’s just trying to help.”
“But you don’t need help anymore,” he said understandingly.
“No.” I stared at the open field. “And I hate that I’m so far behind everyone else.”
“How so?”
“Everyone else has their license. They go to parties and have boyfriends and jobs. And I’m over here like I’m fourteen and I still need my parents to tell me when to go to bed at night.”
“Gotta be frustrating,” he said quietly.
“I’m just—” I clenched my hands against the urge to scream. “I’m so fucking pissed.”
Dad nodded.
“They fucked up my life!” I growled, tears filling my eyes. “And my own fucking mind betrayed me for years. And now I’m behind and everyone acts like I’m a little kid still, and it’s not fucking fair! It’s not fucking fair that I didn’t get to see Charlie until she was five years old. It’s not fucking fair that Mom watches me like I’m going to break at any second. It’s not fucking fair that Leo looks at me like he doesn’t know if he should pat me on the head or tell me he’s sorry every time he sees me, when he’s the one who kissed me!”
Dad made a surprised noise, but didn’t say a word as I seethed.
“I hate that no one takes me seriously. I hate that I’ve become some freak show at school, like Lazarus risen from the dead. I hate that no one will leave me alone for five fucking seconds. I just want to climb into bed and sleep. Sleep is the only time that I can shut my mind off. Nothing is normal anymore. Everything is different.”
I finally grew silent, my breath coming in gasps as tears ran down my face.
“Now’s probably when I tell you somethin’ that fixes it all,” Dad said, reaching out to rub my back.
“That would be nice,” I choked out.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Can’t, though.”
“Why not?”
“Nothin’s gonna fix it, Lilybug,” he said gently, still rubbing my back. “You think I ain’t angry? Hell, you think your mom ain’t been right where you’re at? We’ve all been there, Lilybug. Life is not fair, you’re right about that. You just gotta find a way to get rid of that anger, so it don’t eat you up inside.”
“I don’t know how,” I whispered.
“You push through, kid,” he said. “You let your old man take you out to shoot at a tree stump for an hour. You start running, or break some plates, or take a baseball bat to an old car, or fuckin’ talk about it. Whatever works for you.”
“Do we have an old car?” I asked.
“Hell, I’ll get you one—that’s what you want to do. Not the point, though.” He tugged on one of my braids. “You gotta stop takin’ that anger out on the people who love ya, Lil. Ya gotta stop, honey. The only solid thing we got in this life is family, you don’t ever want to push them away.”
“I’m trying,” I ground out, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. “Maybe I’m depressed.”
“Maybe,” my dad said. “That’s the case, maybe you should be talkin’ to that doctor you used to see.”
“I hated therapy.”
“Could help, though.”
“I doubt it. This sucks.”
“It does.” He got to his feet and reached for me, pulling me up to stand beside him. “I’ve been waitin’ for you to flip out for years, kid. You took everything too easy, let everything slide for too goddamn long. I know part of that was just you. You’re not the type to wallow—never have been. But it’s just been building, waiting for a time you felt comfortable to lose it.”
“I don’t want to feel like this.”
“I know.”
We made our way back to the clubhouse and changed out of our soaking wet clothes.
“Lil?” Dad called from outside the bathroom. “I gotta take care of some shit before we head home, you cool to hang out for a bit?”
I stared at myself in the mirror and tried to re-braid my tangled hair. My face was a mess from crying and I looked like a drowned rat.
“Sure,” I replied. It wasn’t as if I had anywhere to be. If I was home, I’d probably just be sitting in my room doing nothing.
A few minutes later, I left my dad’s room and walked out to the main area of the club. There was usually someone out there to talk to, and I knew I should probably start mending fences where I could. People had started steering clear over a month before, and I grimaced as I realized that everyone had noticed that I was being an asshole.
No one had said anything, but everyone had seen it.
“Hey, there,” Poet said as I grabbed a soda from behind the bar.
“Hey, Poet.” I smiled easily for the first time in a long time. “Do you ever leave that bar stool?”
Poet chuckled. “Not if I can help it,” he replied. “Everyone comes in here at some point and I can get a good visit in without getting off my arse.”
“Smart,” I said, sitting down beside him.
“How you doin’?”
“I’ve been better,” I told him with a rueful smile. “How are you?”
“Better now that I’ve got a pretty girl sittin’ next to me.”
“Flatterer.”
“Always.” He smiled, making his beard twitch. “You and your pop get things figured out?”
“He made me shoot at a tree stump for an hour.”
“Felt good, huh?”
“Yeah.” I sighed and leaned on the bar top. “It did.”
“Lots of changes, yeah?” he said, nodding a little. “You’ll find your footing. Just takes a bit.”
“I’ve been kind of an asshole,” I confessed.
“We’ve all been there,” he said with a guffaw. “You ain’t done nothin’ but be in a pissy mood, girl. Come to me when you’ve actually done somethin’ worth bein’ sorry about.”
As he finished speaking, Leo came in the front door, sliding the hood of his sweatshirt back and shaking the rain from his shoulders.
“It might happen sooner than you think,” I mumbled, the anger inside me rising up again as I met Leo’s gaze.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Poet said with a soft pat on my shoulder. He got up from his stool and ambled away, disappearing into the back hallway.
“Hey, Dandelion,” Leo said as he walked toward me. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“On purpose,” I replied, turning away from him.
“Come on,” he said in frustration. “Still?”
He sidled up to the bar next to me, and leaned down so he could see my face.
“You still banging that blonde chick?” I asked, staring straight ahead. When he didn’t answer, I scoffed.
“I’m fuckin’ sick of this,” he snapped, turning my barstool until I had no choice but to look at him. “Grow the fuck up, Lily.”
I jerked back in surprise at his tone, but as soon as his words sunk in, anger like I’d never known hit me so hard that it took my breath away. My hands were shaking as I shoved at his chest, forcing him back a step as I slipped off the stool. It felt so good to shove him that I did it again.
“Fuck you, Leo,” I said quietly through my teeth. “I am grown up. You walk around like you have it so bad because you have a scar on your face. Poor Leo, his pretty face isn’t perfect anymore.”
Leo’s nostrils flared as he reached out and grabbed my arms so I couldn’t shove him again.
“Poor, poor, Leo,” I said nastily. “Give me a fucking break.”
“You’re bein’ a bitch,” he said, his fingers tightening on my arms.
“You’re a fucking joke,” I hissed, leaning forward. “You have a scar on your face? I went blind for years.”
“This isn’t a goddamn competition,” he said, giving me a little shake. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You.” My shoulders relaxed suddenly, like all the fire inside me had suddenly been extinguished. I’d blown up, and now I was left with nothing but an ache in my chest.
“You know,” I said, shaking my head. “You know how I feel about you.”
“You’re seventeen years old!” Leo yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “What the fuck do you want me to do?”
“Wait,” I yelled back, the word falling between us like an anvil.
“Lily,” he said quietly, his eyes sad.
“It was like the moment I got my sight back, everything changed,” I said, taking a step backward. “One minute I had you in my corner, and then when I needed you, you were gone.”
“That’s not how it happened,” he replied, taking a step forward every time I stepped back. “You know it’s not.”
“All of a sudden, we were different,” I said softly, lifting my hands palms up. “You kissed me and everything imploded.”
“It didn’t have to,” he argued.
“How can I go back?” I shook my head. “I can’t watch you with her. Why would you make me?”
“It’s nothin’,” Leo murmured, reaching for me but not making contact as I shrugged him off.
“You changed everything right when I needed you the most,” I choked out as my eyes began to water. “And now, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“Stop it,” he growled, yanking me against his chest. “Stop. I’ve been right here. You know that I’ve been right here. Goddamnit, Lily.”
“I hate this,” I rasped against his cut.
“I know.”
His hand went to the back of my head and pressed until my face was tucked into where his shoulder met his neck, and his other arm wrapped around my back, pulling me as close as I could get. I tried not to cry as my hands found the bottom of his sweatshirt and burrowed inside, but I couldn’t stop the small sobs as I pressed my fingers against his smooth back.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d counted on Leo’s friendship until it wasn’t there anymore. I was close with Rose, so close that we could finish each other’s sentences, but Leo had always been the person that I could tell anything to and not feel judged. I could complain about my mom helping me without feeling guilty. I could tell him about how frustrated I was that other kids got to do so many things that I couldn’t, and he wouldn’t feel guilty the way Rose would.
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