Holding On (6 page)

“
The fuck?”  He’s
livid.

My brain to mouth filter
have left the building, along for the ride it takes my common sense
and manners.  What the fuck am I even
doing
in this situation with Shame?
  Get bag, scratch Ace’s eyes out, leave Club, and take
Sadey home.  That is all I had to do.  Check. Check.
Check. Check.  Nope, not me.  Open mouth, insert foot.
 Score!

Dammit!  I need to fix
this.

“
I’m sorry, I don’t... I
just...”  Lord, now I’m stuttering?  Sexy.

“
Go
away, Mace.” He says sounding like he’s just bored of me.
 Just take Sade home and go running to call
Greyson
.  I’m going
inside, maybe Hem is through with Kegs and I can have a turn.
 Sometimes a little pussy variety is what is needed to forget
that people aren’t always what you want or expect them to be.” He
turns and walks away.  I’ve officially been
dismissed.

My heart cracks.  Shattering in
my chest.  I’m left standing alone, speechless.  What
could I say really?  Can’t blame him for throwing that at me.
 I just didn’t want it to hurt so badly.  I head back to
my car, knowing I have left my bag inside.  Doesn’t matter.
 I can’t breathe, I want to enjoy the mental snapshot of my
kiss with Shame, but can’t.  The hurt I saw in his eyes when
he said ‘Greyson’.  What have I done?  I waited years to
feel Shame against me and all I could mumble afterwards was that I
needed to call my fiancé so he doesn’t worry?  Shit.
 

“
What’s wrong, Mace?
 You look sick.”  

Sadey has finally pulled it together
and appears calmer than when I left her.  Thanks to my mad
skills in being Ace’s cock block, she’s going to be okay.
 However, the men in my life have just ruined the evening for
us both.

Bastards.

Chapter
Three
:

“
The only thing that could spoil a day was
people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the
very few that were as good as spring itself.”

--Ernest Hemingway

It has been two weeks since the night
I felt Shame hold me against him.  I haven’t seen him or heard
from him since, not that I’m surprised.  I’ve relived that
evening again and again while lost in thought but I’m sure he has
filed it away and forgot all about it.  Probably did what he
said he was going to do and went to find Kegs.  Hem has been
avoiding my questions regarding that night.  He won’t talk to
me about his display for Sadey or if Shame has mentioned our own
encounter and he looks uncomfortable when I ask about it.  I
will let it go, nothing I can do to change it anyways.

Now we are at mom and dad’s house.
 Being called to a family dinner that Hem was invited to means
something is brewing, immense.  Generally, bad
news.

Walking in the house I can hear Hem
and dad already at each other.  I don’t bother hanging up my
coat or removing my shoes because when they get at each other it
progresses like a scene from Rocky, cue the boxing music please.
 Hem is the vicious fighter; dad is one with words that
sting.

“
Warren, I’m not changing.
 This is who I am, it was who my dad was.  You’ve known
this for a while now, haven’t you?  I mean, seriously man,
back the fuck off.  You don’t know me, you think you know me
because you have lived in that head of yours and marked me as some
sort of fuckin’ stereotype.  Now, let’s get to why the fuck
I’m really here.  Where’s my dear old Mother?”
 

“
She’s upstairs, will be
down when dinner is called.”  Dad looks tired.  He’s not
even trying to challenge Hem with a response anymore.

He glances my way as I walk inside the
dining room and immediately his face softens.  “Hey there,
Sweet Pea.  Patrick and I were just catching up, come give me
my hug.”  I don’t miss that he calls him Patrick, still ever
refusing to call him Hem. I don’t really think Hem would allow him
to call him anything else anyway, but it is the way dad says his
given name, as if the Club name is an insult to everyone in the
room.

“
Hey Daddy.”  I
glance at Hem as my dad tucks me under his arm and kisses the crown
of my head.  Dad’s silver and grey hair looks shuffled, he’s
been running his hands through it under the stress of even having
to talk to Hem I’m sure. Still questioning in my mind what the
whole discussion was about, I continue as if I haven’t heard
anything.  “Where’s Mom?”

“
She’s coming, Sweet Pea.
She’s been upstairs napping so she would be ready for your visit.”
 

He looks so weak.  Immediate
concern etches my face, he sees it but ignores my silent plea for a
confession as to what’s on his mind.  Dad is usually so put
together and in control and even if he’s not he still puts on a
mask of indifference, avoiding confrontation.

“
Sister, if you’re giving
away hugs you have forgotten your big brother.”  My father
snorts and turns away as I lean into Hem uncomfortably, mirroring
dad he kisses the crown of my head.  I can smell the alcohol
all over him.  I know I can’t fault him for needing some
liquid courage before coming back to a place that holds no good and
true memories for him.  I’m sorry for Hem to have to be here
and will do what I can to help him get through this evening
emotionally unmarked.

“
Dad, you look tired.
 Let me make you a drink.  Go sit down and I will bring
it in.”  

He thanks me and proceeds to sit at
the dinner table. After I feel it safe I go and take off my shoes
and coat. Then I pour him a two finger scotch and set it in
front of him as he stares at the table, almost in disbelief.
 This isn’t just going to be big, I can feel it.
 Something is off.  Hem and I make eye contact and Hem
tilts his said to the side with a half-smile, as if to tell me it
will be okay.

After a few minutes of idle chit chat
from me and the tension continuing to radiate off both dad and Hem
I can hear mom at the stairs.  As she comes down I am shocked
at her appearance.  She’s pale.  Her eyes are sunken.
 I just know she’s been on the drink because she’s wobbling.
 I rush to her to give her a hand and ever the emotional
avoiding mother; she holds her hand up to stop me in mid stride.
 Welcome home, Mace.  

“
Is dinner ready?” She
asks meekly looking to my father for some sort of
guidance.

They seem to carry on with an unspoken
conversation and dad is at her now, helping her down the stairs.
 I haven’t seen this part of their relationship, mom has
always been so emotionally cut off from all of us, including
dad.

“
Yes, baby.  Come sit
and I will ring Camellia that we are ready to be served.”
  Dad steps away to be sure dinner will be here
soon.

My parents’ house isn’t a mansion and
although dad has always made the pretty penny he never allowed any
of us to enjoy the spoils of what we as kids, didn’t earn.
 Once I left for college, he hired maids and servers to lessen
some unknown invisible burden from mom.  To each his own, or
whatever.

Dinner is served and Hem sits next to
me.  I want him to just relax.  Camellia has prepared a
delicious assortment of her special Italian dishes. It is a
smorgasbord of pastas and breads.  She must have been
instructed to go all out for the big family gathering.  About
halfway through dinner though... shit hits the fan, just as I knew
it would.

A knock at the door comes as a
surprise to Hem and I.  We find each other’s eyes and have our
own silent conversation.  

The whole family is here and dad
doesn’t do well with visitors and we already know mom is not
herself.  Wanting to ask if I should get the door, I pause and
suck in a deep breath upon seeing Father Marcus from St.
Catherine’s Church come strolling in, hiding something in his
emotions.

I haven’t seen him since I left home
for college and now the guilt hits that maybe he thinks I deserted
the church and somehow he’s come to save my soul.  He’s in for
a special treat once he asks Hem how his soul is doing.  I
half smile to Hem but he doesn’t know what I’m thinking. Or maybe
he does and he doesn’t think it’s funny, but I do.  I think
it’s hilarious.  Before I can even say a hello to Father
Marcus, Hem is already in action.

“
Mama, why am I here?”
 Hem doesn’t like the recent addition to family dinner.
 I can’t help him now, he hates being here on any ordinary
Wednesday, let alone when a man of the cloth appears as if from
thin air, sucking all of the air out of the room.

“
Well, I wanted my
children here for dinner.  Both of you.  No truly special
reason other than a mother misses her children.  The empty
nest syndrome is wreaking havoc on my days recently.”

Father Marcus looks at me, to Hem, and
then to my mom.  “Lynda, it is time to share with your
children what is it you have to say.  They love you, will
understand, and will have patience in your upcoming journey.”
  Said like the man of the cloth that he is.

“
Mama
really, why the fuck am I here?  Something is up.  I want
to know.  
Now
.”  Father Marcus doesn’t
even flinch.  Good thing he’s well acquainted with my brother
and his brothers at the Club.  Hem still can even try the
patience of a Saint, so to speak.

Thinking now a good time to chime
right in, I attempt to soothe dad’s apparent distaste for Hem.
 “Dad, what’s wrong?  You’re upset and I can see it.
 You think you are fooling me but you’re not so just tell me,
what is it?”  My father’s face is now wrinkled in disgust, and
as if to avoid my question he aims fury at Hem.

“
My God,
Hem could you take off that vest you call a
cult
and watch your
mouth?  We are at the dinner table for goodness sakes.
 We are really trying to enjoy this meal and no one needs to
reminder of how you live your life as an outlaw.  God damn
kids running amuck, that’s all you have been about your whole damn
life.  Makes me sick, it shows even now that you have no
respect, coming in here with that damn thing on.  Only serves
as a reminder to your mother that you are exactly what you are
meant to be and that is nothing, just like your father.”
 

Shit!  Rage ascends onto Hem’s
face.  The top has been blown and there is no stopping Biker
Hem in play.

“
Well,
Warren, no I will not.
 
This “cult” as you call it is the
only semblance of family that I have left other than Mace.
 Not only won’t I remove it because it may offend you, I won’t
remove it because it
does
offend you.  I’m not sorry I’m a constant
reminder of my dad, who was a ‘lost soul’ as you put it.  What
I am sorry for however is that I have to sit here and endure this
bullshit charade that you’ve named a family dinner.  Since
when does Father Marcus attend a family function, Warren?
 What the fuck?  Since when do
I
attend a family
function?”

Well that was rather subtle, I must
give Hem some credit.  Since when does Hem control his fury
during one of dad’s onslaught of insults?  Oh, yes, Father
Marcus.  Well thank the hell of all hells for Father Marcus
being here.

Dad throws his napkin on his plate in
disgust and then I hear it.  I hear those words that no child
wants to hear.  It’s coming from Mom.  She’s sobbing at
the end of the table.  She looks alone and lost in thought but
I hear it again and again in my head.  It’s like a bad video
replay where someone gets hurt.  Rewind and play, rewind and
play….pause.

“
I’m sick, Patrick. I’m
dying.  Please stop the arguing.  I’m dying and there
won’t many more family dinners while I’m healthy enough to enjoy
them.  Please stop, son.  There. Now you have your reason
for being here.”  Mom’s voice sounds like only a shadow of her
old self.

Hem gets up, dropping his empty scotch
glass on the table with a heavy hand and makes his way towards Mom.
 He passes Father Marcus while looking at him in revulsion, as
if any of this is his fault.  Just the position he plays at
the family gathering is enough to put Hem off.  

He asks her no questions but grabs her
from her chair and holds her close.  She’s so small and looks
frail in comparison to Hems large body.  They stand, swaying
for a few seconds before Hem stands back, both hands on mom’s face
and he looks at her. He’s visibly shaken.

“
Mama, what do you mean
you are sick and dying? I don’t understand.”  Hem’s voice is
now so serious and quiet.  All the rage from the confrontation
with dad has gone, hearing our mom’s words.

“
I have cancer honey, I’ve
been sick now for quite some time.  It had started in my
ovaries but now it has metastasized into the uterus, bladder, and
finally my lymph nodes.  I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you
sooner, I just couldn’t.  There’s never been a good time.
 With little Mace announcing she and Greyson’s upcoming
nuptials, and you’re always so busy with the boys, I just didn’t
know when a good time was.  Now, it has progressed so much
that I feel that you should know sooner than later as later may be
too late.”  Mom pauses so she can catch my expression of
sadness then she continues.