Setting the empty wine glass on my nightstand, I touch two fingers to my lips, kissing them, and moving them to the urn. The only way I can give love to him anymore. My heart hurts.
“We had five married years together and nine years of loving each other. It was all cut too short. I miss you, Jonah.” All my whispers fall on deaf ears and the silence back to me shatters my heart all over again.
My life wasn’t supposed to be like this.
His life wasn’t supposed to be cut short.
Yet, here we are, and as hard as this may be, for my son, I have to continue to press on. A son he never got to meet. A son sleeping in a tiny toddler bed in the room we always talked about having when we had a son.
I have spent two years as a widow and not one day ever gets easier. Loneliness only feeds my grief more. At twenty-three, I faced the greatest loss in my husband and the greatest gift of my son in the same year. At twenty-five, I still have this gaping hole in my chest that once belonged to Jonah. Justice is a duplicate of his dad, but rather than filling what I am missing, my heart simply grew to love this little boy more than my own breath. Love is funny like that.
The capacity of the heart to grow and yet still remain unfulfilled. It’s something only a mother can understand, especially a mother without her lover.
This is my life.
Love.
Loss.
Love once again.
Never to be what I was before.
One
Raff
The only fucks I give are reserved for family and fun.
* * *
Dropping my kickstand, I lean the bike on the small metal peg. One by one, I pull my fingers from the leather gloves and lay them on my gas tank before reaching up to unhook my lid. The half-shell helmet is lightweight and a summer staple for riding. Hooking it to the handlebar, I dismount. Tonight, I’m here on Ruby, my Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail, decked out in a ruby red with metallic flake paint job featuring the Hellions skull on the gas tank. The bike is basic outside of the paint. I stripped the saddlebags, sissy bar, additional chrome, and even the exhaust tips from this bike.
Sometimes there is nothing better than a bare ride.
I mean that in every way possible. For my bike, it means no accessories. With a woman, it is an indescribable sensation to raw fuck especially in the heat of the moment.
With my helmet hanging, I drop my sunglasses inside the top. The wind is pretty steady tonight, making the Hellions flag snap in the wind. The clubhouse and surrounding area of our compound is lit up.
I’m parked at Honey’s Hot Rods when I notice the light inside the office is still on. Looking to my watch, it is six twelve PM. I’m right on time. I left my house at six sharp to arrive and be in a seat by six thirty even allowing myself time to chat outside should a brother feel compelled to. This is how my brain works. Have a time window for everything and remain on schedule. Because of my need to have my plans in allotments, I notice when others around me also have patterns.
Honey has a strict policy about being off at six sharp. She has two kids at home. There is one thing she’s firm in having, and its dinner immediately after work at the table with them. Before kids, she practically lived at the garage. If she wasn’t crashing at Smoke’s house, then she was at work. I know Stud always keeps a room for her at his house, even now, but she’s always been fiercely independent. As soon as the house down the street from the shop came up for sale, she scooped it up. Most days, she walks to work even though she isn’t exactly next door. According to Honey the fresh air helps her wake up. Personally, coffee wakes me up just fine. Whatever works for her, though.
Honey having kids, well, that is a whole different level of dedication for her. From the moment Honey found out she was pregnant, her kids came first. From taking on the role inside to remain safe in her pregnancy to then giving birth, she protects her family, and the time dedicated to them at all costs. When the shop is closed, Honey is off the clock. She doesn’t answer business calls. Her personal time is precious, and she guards that shit. It’s admirable in a world where too many are consumed with work and forget the balance of family life. Not having a family of my own outside of the Hellions, I applaud her dedication to being a mom.
I can also appreciate someone who keeps a schedule.
I live by mine and not much can get me to deviate from it.
Instead of crossing the street over to the clubhouse as I planned, I stroll towards the entrance to the hot rod shop. Inside, my instincts scream that I am changing from my planned schedule, while on the outside with every step I am pushing that urge down. Sometimes the internal part of me that drives me to stay on schedule impacts my mood. I don’t like to be late ever. Tonight, though, I don’t have serious plans making it easier for me to deviate from my plan. In my head, I was going to the clubhouse, I would sit down, have three beers tops, head home, and crash. I’ll still be able to do all of that, I’ll just be a few minutes later than anticipated. The doorknob twists easily, not locked, which surprises me again. Stepping inside, Honey sits at the front desk studying the computer.
“Why are you still here?” I ask her bluntly knowing damn well this is the last place she wants to be after hours.
She looks up from the screen, her curly hair wild around her face. One thing about Honey, if she doesn’t say it with her mouth, she says it with her face. Her face right now is absolute anger. Add to it I think she has literally been pulling at her hair, she is definitely frazzled. When she’s at work her hair is always braided.
“Got nothin’ else to do at the moment, so I’m orderin’ parts. What’s it to ya, Raff?” The snap in her tone tells me something is definitely not right.
I lift my hands in surrender, “not like you be workin’ late. You like to be home with Bray and Key for dinner.” I don’t add it, but it’s also not like Honey to toss attitude around that isn’t deserved. I damn sure haven’t done anything to upset her which immediately tells me the problem.
