Phoenix
Many, many things.
Starting with the fact that my father is not the idol that he would seem to be, given all of the photos of him in this household.
Up to the point where Jess had commented on the photos of my father, everything had gone beautifully. I adored having her around, I felt like the date was progressing well, and I was so glad I was wearing jeans, because I was so horny for her that any other type of clothing would have earned me an indecent citation.
But my father...
Honestly, the only reason the photos remained was just because I hadn’t gotten around to taking them down. I...
OK, that was not “honestly.” To say it was the whole truth was lying to myself as much as Jess.
“I honestly have no idea what to think of my father these days.”
“What do you mean?” Jess said. “I thought you adored him?”
“I do,” I said. “Well, on some levels, at least. On a fatherly level, he went above and beyond the call of duty.”
Images in my mind flashed of him coming to my school as much as he could, of sharing my first beer with me when I got denied by my middle school crush, or riding my first bike at fifteen... those were the good times. Perhaps strange times to someone who didn’t understand the biker lifestyle, but times that nevertheless made me love my father.
Those were the ones that were at the forefront of my consciousness, the images that I clung to when I heard or thought of the word “father”.
But right behind those...
“As a club member...”
I couldn’t finish the words right now. No matter how matter of fact they had sounded when I spoke with Father Marcellus, no matter how hard and certain the evidence was against my father, it was like the minute I tried to address it with anyone else, it all just went up in a puff of smoke. The idea that my father could just... could just be a fucking rat, and for it to be something I’d just address in casual conversation with a date...
“Never mind,” I said. “Not worth talking about.”
“No, Phoenix,” she said, grabbing my arm.
She didn’t say anything else. But her words were just enough to get me to calm down.
Eventually, I would have to talk about him and his decisions with other people. Eventually, if there was the possibility—however slim, however disgusting—of the two Reaper clubs uniting, I’d have to face up to the fact. Perhaps this was the safest space to do it for the first time, in my home, sober, with a woman I cared about. There was no chance of me losing my temper, getting antagonized, or having to hear more bullshit from Butch or Lane.
All of which was to say it would still suck, but it was something I had to fucking man up and face.
“My father was a rat.”
How firmly you said it.
How certainly you said it.
No “probably.” No “might have been.” No “some say.” Just... he was.
And because of how certain I had said it, I knew I had finally accepted it in the depths of my soul. Maybe I could have argued that being in the presence of Father Marcellus had made me more agreeable or some other nonsense, but no more. The only person I was making peace and the truth with was myself; Jess just happened to be in the room, as much a target for the words I had spoken as the Netflix logo on my television.
“Seriously?”
I heard Jess, but at this point, it was more like she was an echo of the dying part of me that refused to see my father for who he was.
Both. He was both. He both loved you and betrayed your former club.
“Yes,” I said, still staring straight ahead, like I was talking to myself in the mirror. “I saw the evidence. I spoke with Father Marcellus. I cannot hide from it or deny it any longer.”
I let out a long sigh, like I was breathing out the last remnants of me that wanted to deny it all. I would never truly get rid of this denial. There was far too much emotion attached to who he was and what he meant to me.
