Bitter Sweet Beginnings (2 page)

Thank God for dad.

“It’s not fair!” Dana wailed from deep inside the house.

My blood ran cold at the sound of her words. I knew what was coming.

“What’s not fair, dear?” Granny could be heard consoling the little
darling
.

I swiftly lifted my denim jacket from the wooden coat rack near the front door and thought there was some small chance I’d be able to get out before Dana had succeeded.

“It’s not fair that Charlie gets to go out and I have to stay here! I want to go, too!”

The door was almost closed behind me before granny halted me with her words.

“Charlie? Why don’t you be a good big sister and bring Dana along with you? I’m sure she’d have a wonderful time.”

A lump formed in my throat. I’m sure she
would
have a “wonderful time” as granny put it… at my expense, that is. I felt my lips open to object, but was interrupted by my elder.

“Besides… I think it’s better for everyone, with all things considered, that you have a companion tonight.”

Adam must have felt like he was put on the spot, moving quickly to act gentlemanly. “Uhh… sure. That would be cool, I guess.”

He locked eyes with me and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. The last thing he would have wanted was to bring any unneccesary attention to his raging teenaged hormones by objecting to a chaperone, where one would then have to wonder at his intentions.

I couldn’t believe what was happening! First, the brat taunted and teased at the possibility the date wouldn’t even materialize. Then, when he does show and I’m almost in the clear, she has to throw a tempter tantrum and try to ruin it a different way.

“Great!” screamed Dana who somehow already had her light jacket ready and waiting on the staircase railing. Her crocodile tears were all but dried and gone by the time she’d joined Adam on the other side of the threshold.

She’d planned it, somehow, knowing that one last fit would somehow secure her place on my date after dad had forbade it earlier. With Granny there, serving as a captive audience to any and every complaint, Dana knew she’d be given her way.

I swear, sometimes I hate her.

~*~

“How was your date?” Mom was folding a heaping basket of fluffy towels while sitting on the sofa.

I was sure that dad had already gone to bed, with it having been after ten o’clock.

“Great!” Dana answered, throwing her jacket into a heap on the nearby chair. “Adam bought us ice cream and we played mini golf. I think we’ll do it again sometime!”

She stomped up the stairs with no regard to our sleeping father in the nearby room. I turned to my mom, eyebrows raised, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It was great! Who doesn’t
dream
about bringing their little sister along on their first date? How can I ever thank you?”

Mom placed the neat square of creased bath linen down onto the pile. “Don’t be rude, Charlie.”

“Rude?” I spat. “I
wouldn’t
dream of it. I mean, that would be so inappropriate. Let me just roll over and have everyone walk all over me so I don’t risk the chance of being
rude
!”

Mom’s face hardened. “Your father is sleeping!”

My eyes widened.
She was worried about my voice waking him? When Dana had just pounded on the stairs like a damn elephant?
I was getting more and more angry then.

“How
could
you? Why can’t you
ever
take my side? Just once?” I called out as I gave up on the conversation, and left in a huff to my own bedroom where I’d be able to take out my frustrations by punching my pillow in peace.

I refrained from slamming my door only to spare my dad the abrupt awakening. It didn’t take long before the knock came.

“Leave me alone,” I barked out to the wooden barrier.

With no lock on the handle, mom entered anyway.

“Charlie. Please don’t speak to me that way. I’m still your mother. While you’re under my roof, you will speak to me with respect.”

I worked feverishly at attacking my eye makeup with the tiny pre-moistened circular pads in the mirror of my vanity.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’m counting down. The day I graduate, I’m outta here.” One last swipe at the black goo on my lashes, and the pad is tossed into the small trashcan nearby.

My mother sat on the edge of my bed, shocked.

“You don’t mean it. Why would you say something so cruel? After everything we’ve done for you… everything we’ve given you… why would you
say
that?”

I turned in my seat to face her. “Because it’s true. You treat me like a prisoner around here, mom. I’m always guilty in your eyes. It’s bad enough that everyone else treats me differently… but you? Why do
you
always treat me like I’m a burden?”

She looked shocked. “What do you mean?”

I threw my hands up in the air in defeat. “Oh, come on! Every holiday, every family party… you don’t think I notice the looks? The whispers? I’m treated like an outcast mom. And you know who’s the ringleader?”

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t know.

“
You
, mom. It hurts the worst when
you
look at me like that. When
you
talk to me like that. When
you
don’t stick up for me when other people do it. It’s like you’re condoning it or something.”

I could see her eyes reddening, softening as they fill with unshed tears. “I—it’s not true. Nanny and Poppy
never
treat you like that.”

“I’m not talking about your parents, mom. I’m talking about daddy’s. Like tonight. Granny Griffiths… those things she said. The way she looked at me and scrutinized everything about me. Why—why do you let her do it?” I asked.

It was true. Her parents, my nanny and poppy (who I was even named after) would never have treated me so badly. But dad’s family? They barely tolerated me. And it was even more noticeable compared to how they doted on Dana.

“Oh, Charlie! I had no idea you felt this way,” she claimed. It was hard for me to judge the sincerity of her words. “I—it’s just that I want so much more for you, sweetheart. I want better for you. I want you to have everything you want in life. And I know how easy it is for young girls to get sidetracked. You deserve more than that, Charlie. If I’m too hard on you sometimes, that’s why.”

“Oh yeah? And I suppose that’s Granny’s intention, too? Tough love?” I challenged bitterly.

Mom scrunched up her face in uncertainty. “Nah. She’s just a bitch.”

I gasped at the very first curse word I’ve ever heard my mother say in my presence. And then, for the first time in a very long time, we laughed together. Hard, long, and hysterically, we laughed and bonded together over a shared hatred of the old lady.

CHAPTER TWO

NOW

“Wake up, sleepyhead!”

That voice is truly and utterly annoying.

“You can’t sleep all day, Charlie.”

See… that’s where she’s wrong. I
can
sleep all day… and I plan on proving it.

“Just give me a few more of the magic pills and shut off the light Dana,” I instruct my sister on how she’s going to
help
me sleep all day.

I hear the echoes thud as she places a glass down on the nearby coffee table. Next, the jingling of the pill container as she pours the prescribed amount. I hold my hand out blindly and make a mental note of each of the tiny little weights that fall into my palm.

One.

Two….

I hold my hand out further but nothing else is added. I turn over, carefully, so as not to drop the medicine that’s already in my hand.

“What gives? I should get two more,” I inform her of the mental calculations I’ve done as I tallied the missing meds.

Dana grabs the water glass and shoves it toward me, signaling to drink. “Nope. Just the antibiotics from now on. No more pain meds.”

I swallow the medicine. “You sure? I think there should be a few more days worth?”

She shakes her head. “Outta luck, darlin’. ”

Huh. That went fast. There must be a mistake. I’ll have to give a call into Dr. Matthew’s office and straighten it out.

“And let’s get you in the shower. You’ve got visitors coming over.” Her words hit like cannonballs.

“No… I don’t,” I counter.

She smiles. “Yes. You. Do. Now get in the shower. You kinda stink.”

“I don’t stink. And I don’t want any visitors.”

I turn over and pull the throw back over my shoulders, fully prepared to find some sleep even without the help of the missing pills.

The slow warmth that builds under the small blanket is stolen from me as Dana whips the afghan from my body.

“It’s been three days, Charlie! I can only put them off for so long. They call every single day and they won’t take no for an answer anymore.”

I listen to her tale of how she was strong-armed into accepting company. I don’t believe it, though.

She takes my hand in hers and pulls gently. I did just have a moderately invasive procedure, after all, and I’m sure that’s the only reason she’s not pulling harder.

“Let’s go, sis. Or I’ll bring in the hose and soak you down right here.”

Ugh. “Fine! I’m up, I’m up. Get off my back.”

I move past her, back through the hallway and into the large bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I take a look in the mirror over the sink and am shocked at what I see. I’ve done everything possible to avoid any glimpse of myself since I’d gotten home from the hospital a few days ago.

My skin is ashy, sallow. The circles under my eyes are dark and puffy, signaling exhaustion, yet I’ve done nothing but sleep for days. How is that possible?

The rat’s nest of light brown hair piled on my head is stringy and dry, in deep need of a conditioning treatment. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, letting it all sink in.

I look as bad as I feel.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The shower is set to hot, and I let it run as I take to undressing from my stretch pants and t-shirt.

I recoil a little as I pull the fitted baby doll tee over my head. Agh! It does stink! I throw it into the laundry bin and remind myself to wash that load twice. Now naked, I turn, contorting my body to look over my shoulder into the full-length mirror behind the door, analyzing the damage.

There’s a small bandage on my lower back that I peel off carefully, revealing the two reddened marks where the surgical instruments were inserted into my spine, withdrawing the precious fluid inside.

It’s not terrible. I’d seen worse almost daily as an E.R. nurse. Yet, I know I’ll be left with two puncture scars… a permanent reminder of the donation, the sacrifice that spearheaded the downward spiral of my love life.

It was that surgery, that procedure, that essentially sold me out, revealing my secrets to everyone I’d been hiding them from. The true parentage and genetics that linked me to Vince and the rest of the Kingsmen MC was revealed.

For some, like Lil’s, Jay, and surprisingly Jean… it was a welcome surprise. To others, the ones who mattered the most to me, Clink and Brendan, it was the end.

I close my eyes tight and step into the shower, begging myself to quickly move on from thinking of him. I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to remember him, his strong, manly build that would wrap itself around me. The rich tones of his scent that would intoxicate me and blind me.

The wicked tattoos that covered the majority of his body and hypnotized me as I studied them. Each bulging muscle that would call to me, beg to be touched, licked, grabbed….

Why am I doing this to myself?!

I rest my head against the cool tile and feel the water cascade over my skin. I hear the echoing within the shower stall as I gulp deeply, sobbing. The tears sting somehow, burning my eyes as they take over.

I need him. I always told myself that I was strong enough not to need anyone, but I need him right now... and he’s gone.

My chest heaves, shuddering as I let out the pent up emotions that have been stored down deep these last few days, feelings that I’ve been able to avoid by sleeping away my time.

It hurts. Almost as much as I imagine the scalpel hurt as it sliced into my skin, revealing the access to my spine. I was lucky enough to be under anesthesia then. I need something now to numb myself from this, too.

I gather myself enough to begin to wash and scrub at my skin, cleansing myself. My skin is screaming, aching for his touch, knowing that I’ll never feel it again.

I close my eyes and remember the last time his hands were on my body. It was the night before the procedure. I was his woman then, his Ol’ Lady. I was his and he was mine, and our bodies were as much the other’s as our own. Each crevice of every part of me fit into him like a puzzle, locking into place and sealing me to him.

The patches he gave me, the ones that once covered my back… I never wanted them. And now, I feel naked without them.

I clear my mind and think of the patches, the leather of the cut that bore them, imagining it covering my back, my flesh. I felt safe, protected, wanted while I wore them. And now… now I feel none of those things.

If I can’t feel those things, then I don’t want to feel anything.

~*~

“You’re baking
cupcakes?”

My eyes widen as I follow the delicious smells coming from the oven of my cramped kitchen. Dana’s busy whipping a metal wire cooking utensil that I’m pretty sure had only served as decoration before, into a large blue bowl of white stuff.

“You didn’t have much in your cabinets. I found some cake mix and thought I should make something so we can at least offer something. I would step out to the store and pick something up, but I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”

Dana whips furiously, determined to get the sugary stuff in the bowl to yield to her command.

I roll my eyes at this domestic Dana in front of me.

“Dana… these are bikers. Pretty sure all they need is beer. Do we have beer?”

Her eyes widen. “Shit! I didn’t think about that! You—you have a few bottles in the back of your fridge. They don’t look all that new though.”

That’s an understatement. They’re probably a few months old. I hadn’t exactly been around enough to clean out the fridge back then. I was too busy playing house with Clink.
A whole lotta good that did me
.

A little while later, the small electric timer on the range beeps, alerting Dana that the cupcakes are done baking. The heavy metal sounds rattle as the tray is freed from the scorching tomb and placed on the countertop to cool.

Each perfectly rounded chocolatey mound steaming its mocha goodness throughout the room is almost cookbook worthy in its perfection. Of course it is. Dana’s a Grade-A baker, taught by none other than Regina Griffiths herself. They were a famous mother-daughter baking duo back home.

Not a single occasion, church bake sale, school fundraiser, or sometimes just a random weeknight went by without them being solicited to participate by baking one of their claims to fame. I’m pretty damn sure nothing came out of a box back then and I’m positive mom would drop down and faint if she knew Dana had given in to Betty Crocker’s fudge cupcake mix today.

Any normal person walking in on this would salivate and jump on the delicousness being prepared in front of me. My stomach does churn, though… just not in the way you’d think.

~*~

THEN

Dad slowly took the seat next to me.

“They’re at it again, huh?” he asked.

I turned to him, raised my eyebrows and nodded slowly, confirming. He exhaled deeply and we sat in mutual disappointment.

“Hey, hon?” he asked loudly, making sure his voice carried into the busy kitchen on the other side of the dining table. “Not sure if there’s a whole lot of time for you to be doing this right now. You and Charlie should be leaving soon.”

A loud crash rang out as a heavy bowl was dropped into the sink. “There’s plenty of time. I’ve got to get these peanut bars made for Dana’s recital tomorrow.”

Her words had hit hard. Of
course
she had to make peanut bars for Dana’s show tomorrow. That was a very important occasion, right? Much, much more important than shopping for a prom dress like we had planned to do that afternoon.

Dad clenched his jaw and dropped his head in disappointment when mom let out, “I’ll be done in an hour or so. Maybe two, if I can get the coconut cookies started.”

It was a Sunday. About three weeks before the senior dance that would mark a milestone in my life, and I
still
hadn’t found a dress. Every gown I had picked out with my friends had been vetoed by my over-conservative mother on the grounds that it was either too slutty (she did actually use that word), the “wrong” color for my skin tone, or made my size 6 hips look “wide”.

Nothing I had picked on my own was good enough to meet her approval, and I had been forced to return each dress purchased. Mom had promised that we’d be able to shop and find a dress in time, even though the longer we waited, the limited supply of prom dresses in our town dwindled.

Mom had bought some poofy, pink satin and lace Disney-princess styled dress from her favorite department store months ago for me, convinced it was the
perfect
prom dress. The cotton-candy colored mess had left me speechless and pissed. I had refused to wear it, and I had suspected that mom’s lackadaisical attitude toward shopping for another one was some passive-aggressive tactic of hers to force me to submit and agree to wear the dress she had chosen without me.

I bit my lip and tapped relentlessly on the shiny dining room table, frustrated that my mom was putting this off once again.

Dad sat back against the rigid back of the heavy wooden chair, disheartened. He looked at me.

“Grab your things. Let’s go.”

His words confused me. “Go where?” I voiced.

He took a deep breath. “Shopping. I’m taking you shopping and we’re going to find you a prom dress.”

It took only a few moments for me to gather my little baby-doll backpack and the wallet that housed my new driver’s license just in case dad would be gracious enough to let me do the driving.

Mom and Dana were too busy with their pans and ingredients, laughing up a storm while bonding over some traditional feminine dessert-making pastime to even notice that dad and I had jumped ship to hit the mall.

The last thing I remembered as I closed the front door behind me was the wafting smell of their culinary treats that I swore I would never eat again.

~*~

NOW

The front door is knocked upon again. I know Dana hears it. She knows I hear it. We’re having a battle of wills to see who will answer it.

She invited them… I think she should be the one to let them in. If it were up to me, I’d shut the lights off, and hide in the bedroom until they came to the conclusion that no one was home and left.

With the next knock, Dana finally gives up on me and turns into the instant hostess that mom would be proud to call her own. There is a masked awkwardness to the voices I hear. How could there not be? This situation is fucked up in more ways than one.

The first official visit to the bastard daughter of the man they all hold in such high regard. A man they refuse to believe could do the things I’ve been told he had.

The fact that I’d infiltrated them under false pretenses and tricked them all into the relationships we’d formed seems to not matter anymore… not since I’d saved that very same man from being taken from them.

“Hi, Dana,” a familiar voice greets my sister as she welcomes them. This voice is perhaps the most surprising of all that could cross my threshold today. “Thanks so much for arranging this.”

Jean’s words are full of sincerity.