Black’s room wasn’t as hard to go through as I thought it would be. Lucky for me, he didn’t have very much shit in there. His personal items like his clothes, hats, and shoes were all burned. Even his furniture and linens. The closet held two boxes full of shit. One was full of patches, pictures with the club, and a few corny-ass letters from some bitches while he was in the army. The other box was filled with his father’s things.
There were some old pictures of Black and his dad, two American flags, his parents’ death certificates, and a box of old jewelry—probably his mom’s. In the back corner of his closet, I found a safe. I couldn’t figure out the combination to save my life. When Saylor suggested I try my birthday, I did just to humor her. Surprisingly, it worked. My heart did some funny shit and I thought of love. If using my birthday as a combination to a safe was the only love he could ever show me though, he could keep it. But what I found inside changed my perspective on Black—slightly.
While Saylor ogled the hundred-dollar bills I pulled out, acting as if she had never seen so much money, I focused on the letter with my name on it. I opened it up, fighting the shaking in my hand, and saw that it was dated just days before he died.
Dirk,
If you’re reading this I’m dead. The club knows about the money I’ve been taking and I’m sure they’re gonna kill me. I hope it’s you that does it. At least it’d be well deserved. I didn’t know your mama. Hell, I barely knew your daddy. I didn’t want you, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I owed a favor to someone and that someone told me we would be square if I took you in. Much like you I’ve never had a family other than the club. A biker is what I am and what I’ll die as. I ain’t no daddy. Never claimed to be. But I want you to know that I did what I did because that’s the only way I knew to teach you. I never told you before because I didn’t know how. But I’m proud of you, Dirk. I always have been. From the very first day you came into my life, I was proud to call you mine. You’re a better man than I ever was. A better brother too. If I got to live my life over, I’d want another shot at being a daddy. And I’d want my son to be just like you.
Black
In two days, I bet I’ve read the letter a hundred times. I kept trying to find closure in it, but I never did. I finally burned it yesterday. The words were now permanently imprinted in my memory. I couldn’t figure out if it made me hate him more, or like him less. Each outcome was just as negative as the other.
Who in the fuck did Black owe a favor to? And why the fuck would that someone trust him to raise a kid? If I knew, I’d kill them myself. They deserved to pay. They are responsible for a monster that was created over something as simple as a favor. If Black hadn’t raised me, I might have had a shot at a decent fucking life. But he poisoned me and I have, in turn, poisoned so many others. He was proud of me. He said so in a fucking letter. Had I known then what I know now, I never would have killed that man all those years ago. I would have taken my life in a different direction.
But because I wanted his love and pride so much, I was willing to take a life to earn it. That was the beginning of the train ride I would take to the deepest depths of hell. If he got a chance to live life over, I’d kill him before he had a chance to ruin anyone by turning them into me. Nobody wants their son to be like me. Nobody.
Today, I’m just sitting on my new couch, while Saylor writes in her diary, debating on whether or not I should go dig up his body, just so I can watch it burn. Maybe that would make me feel better.
Tomorrow, Saylor has to go home while I go to Texas. I don’t know how it will be without her, but I know I’m already dreading it. By the sad look on her face, she is too.
Something happened and Nationals decided that I need to get there as quickly as possible. So Saylor and I will be flying to Houston in the morning. It’s a layover for her, but a drop-off point for me. My brothers from a chapter there will pick me up. I’ll get a bike from the shop and hopefully only go about three days without seeing her. Tonight, I just want to hold her, but the hungry look in her eyes tells me I’ll be fucking her first. That’s fine too.
—
Saylor has a sad look in her eyes as we pack up to leave. Just as we are about to head out, she asks me to wait a minute. I watch as she stands in the kitchen, closes her eyes, and inhales deeply. Long gone is the scent I’m so familiar with. It is now replaced with something that smells like pomegranate or some shit.