4 Years Later
I would love to say that all the visits we had over the last four years were different, but they weren’t. He was distant, his eyes hollow and cold. The Lip I knew was nowhere to be found when I was with him. But he was in prison, and I couldn’t imagine what that was like. I was told a couple of times visits were not an option because Lip was in trouble. Not to mention he had extended time added to his sentence because he killed a man in self-defense. The ol’ ladies took me in as one of their own, and I loved them for it. Prison wasn’t only rough for Lip, but for me, too. Living among the MC, a rougher side of me escaped. When one of them was in trouble, I was there standing behind them, ready to throw down. To say the least, my soul had become corrupted for my new family, but being alone for years can make anyone angry. I was mad, I was sad, I was lonely, and I took it out on anyone I could. Before, I saw a baseball bat as something you did to pass time—little league, even. Now when I see a bat, I wonder whose kneecaps I’m about to crack, and If I should use aluminum or wood.
Who knows, maybe this side of me would have come out eventually. I wasn’t exactly raised in the best upbringing, after all. I asked God to feel my pain that day I met Lip, and he must have listened and placed me where I’d be accepted. With the outlaws, where I belong.
***
Staring at the keys in my hand, my heart races when I think about the thought that has been plaguing my mind for several months. Piper. My daughter. Seeing her. I want to see her just once, know that she’s alive and doing well. Years have gone by and yet every day I think about her. Think about telling the club, and think about telling Lip, but I don’t. I don’t tell anyone. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m scared. Lip is not the man I knew. He’s distant since he’s been in prison; he doesn’t say much when I see him, and hardly writes back anymore. He’s breaking in there. Prison is making him hard and constantly on-guard. Lip has two more years in that hellhole, and every day seems longer without him.
I tell him every time I talk to him that I’m here, waiting for him, staying strong for him. Just like the ol’ ladies told me to. They said those are the main things a man locked up wants to hear. Hell, they’re the main things I want to tell him. But even with the club having my back, inviting me to functions and making me one of their own, I feel a piece of my soul missing. Piper is missing. Lip is missing. Therefore, I am missing.
“I could just drive by,” I mutter to myself. Just drive by and see that the trailer park is still there, see the house Eric lives in—or used to live in, because who knows if he’s even still there.
I bite my bottom lip and step out the front door. Just a drive-by; nobody will even recognize me. I get into my car, pull my hair into a white baseball cap I found in Lip’s closet, and put on some sunglasses. I flip down my sun visor and look at myself in the mirror. It’ll work.
I grip the wheel and my world shifts.
“Shit,” I mumble. Adrenaline is pulsing through me so hard it’s making me high. This is so dangerous, incredibly reckless. I blow out a steady breath, trying to get ahold of myself.
“If the Devil’s Dust taught me anything, it’s to live on the wild side,” I tell myself. I start the car and drive the long journey toward my daughter, praying for just a glimpse of her.
Almost two hours later, I turn on the road that holds my old trailer. My heart beats violently as I pull up behind a slow van. I attempt to keep my eyes on the road but I keep glancing to my left, waiting for the trailer park to come into view. I try and keep my pace, so as not to draw attention to my car, but when I finally drive in front of the trailer park, everything seems to slow down. My eyes sweep the area frantically, knowing I have only seconds to see her.
I notice a couple of kids playing on an old jungle gym, but none of them stand out. Something grabs my eye, and I turn toward Eric’s house. My breath catches and a whimper leaves my mouth. A small little redheaded girl in pigtails bounces down the front steps. She has on the biggest grin, her cheeks rosy red. Everything hits me at once. That is my daughter. My blood. I’ve abandoned her. I’m a terrible mother. Gravel flies at my car, and I look forward to see the van swerving to the right because I just nearly ran into them.