Atticus leveled me with a glare that would’ve had most men falling to their knees, begging for mercy. “It’s different for me. You know this,” he hissed.
I sat down, the angle to play finally coming to me. “You so sure about that? I think it was different under the Grim Reaper, but you’re not him, Mas. If you plan to change the family, if your whole initiative is being better, doing better, why can’t this be part of it as well?”
He stared, not answering.
I assented, accepting his non-answer. “I’d intended to punch you in the junk, but I can see you’re doing a far better job of beating yourself up than I could. Enjoy being alone.”
Rising, I didn’t miss his words as I left, pausing only slightly to even acknowledge I’d heard them.
Walking back to my room, my breaths were heavy as I debated changing clothes and punching some bags in the gym, or if it was a ride my motorcycle type of need surging up. The urge to escape rode me hard as the panic began to edge into the outskirts of my mind, and I knew I didn’t have much time. Heading to the garage, I tossed on my helmet and leather jacket, revving the engine as the first memory hit me as his words took root.
“I’ve never known you to be naive, Sax, but you are if you think someone like her could ever be okay with the things you’ve done. Guys like us don’t get the girl. Even your own mother couldn’t hack it.”
Saxon Meets Atticus
“Baby, Momma’s going away for a while, okay? I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” My mother buttoned my coat, smoothing down the fabric as she spoke to me.
“Why can’t I go with you?”
“It’s not a place for kids. You’ll be fine. This will be good for you. You can make friends. I know Mr. Mascro has a son close to your age.”
“But I want to stay with you, Momma. I promise to be good. I won’t eat as much, and I’ll be real quiet when your boyfriend’s over. I’ll apologize and everything.”
“Ssh, none of that. You’re a good boy. This is a good opportunity. You’ll see. Mr. Mascro will change your life.” She barely got the words out before she started to sob. Quickly, she swallowed the tears, wiping her face.
“Remember, strong boys don’t cry. Make them want to keep you. Give them a reason to trust you. And whatever you do, don’t get too close. It always ends up as heartbreak for us. We aren’t like them, but you can become one of them. I know you can. You’re going to make me so proud.”
She pulled me close, and I tried to swallow back the tears that had started to fill my eyes. I didn’t want to leave her. Her parting sounded too close to goodbye, and even my nine-year-old self could hear it. I knew things had been more challenging lately. Her most frequent boyfriend had been too handsy, and when he’d punched her, I hadn’t stopped to think when I hit him with the baseball bat momma kept by the door.
That was the first time I’d met the scary man in the suit, the one who looked me over like I was his favorite new toy. I’d sat huddled against the wall as he’d come in with some others, taking the man away. He promised I wouldn’t have to see the bad man again, nor would I get in trouble. I remembered how he bent down to me, handing me a handkerchief to wipe the blood off my hands.
“You did good, son. Protecting your Momma like that.” I only nodded, too scared to say anything in his presence.
“Do you know who I am?”
Shaking my head no, that made him smile, and it filled me with ice. He was scarier than anyone else I’d ever met, but he looked more like the fancy people momma worked for cleaning houses than the men she tended to date.
The memory faded as I focused back on my Momma. She’d lost weight in the past week, not eating as much since the night he’d visited. I hadn’t seen her boyfriend since then either, but I hadn’t been upset about it. He was a mean drunk, and he made Momma cry. I hoped to never see him again.
Taking my hand, Momma led me down the stairs of our run-down apartment building, and the homeless man that snored on the stoop as usual. The black car that rolled to a stop looked out of place in our world. It was the shiniest vehicle I’d ever seen, no smudges on it at all. The door opened, the man in the suit with the cold exterior stepping out. A small boy, also wearing a suit, followed him.
He was smaller than me, but he held his head high, imitating his father. Something about his eyes, though, made me stop, taking him in. He was scared. When he locked eyes with mine, I recognized the lonely kid in him. It didn’t make sense how someone who had so much could feel the same as me, but it was the first time I’d ever felt as if someone could understand my life.
Momma kissed my cheek, wiping it clean as she pushed me to move toward them. The scary man smiled, attempting to appear welcoming, but I knew too many men like him. He looked better than most, but it was the same bullshit lurking, hiding behind his fancy clothes and cars. You could dress up mean men, but I knew one when I spotted them. The boy grinned kindly at me, encouraging me until his father noticed, and he shut down his features.
I’d never seen a kid be able to do that before, and it made me even more curious about him. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched my mom wipe away tears, but she continued to encourage me. With one last look, I cataloged her features, the feeling of something terrible happening heavy in the air. It wasn’t an uncommon thing in the projects, and I’d come to know it well.
“I love you, Momma.”
She bobbed her head, her tears spilling faster as a sob broke loose, and she crumbled to the ground. I pivoted to return to her when a hand clamped down on my shoulder, holding me to the spot.
“Leave her. She’s fine. Your future isn’t here anymore, son. There’s something bigger and better planned for you. Just you wait. You’re gonna love it.”
I never saw my mother again after that, Dayton told me she’d committed suicide a week later. I never believed him, expecting his hand in it, but I hadn’t wanted to disrupt the status quo, so I stayed silent. I glued myself to the boy who’d shown kindness and had eyes like me, and I vowed to protect him. Maybe if I only focused on one person, I could be successful.
Fury at Atticus’ words washed over me, and I sped around the corner, needing the feeling of the wind on my face and the motor beneath me to outrun the memories. Out here, I could command it, convincing myself I wasn’t a fool.
I didn’t want Atticus to be correct, and the low blow of using my mother had been too far. The taste of Loren still on my lips was the only thing keeping me from believing him.