Sighing, I grabbed a beer from the fridge before I sat down at my computer. I hadn’t checked my email in ages, due to being too busy working outside to do any kind of desk work. I had some bills to pay too.
By the time I was done, I was ready to get out of there. I had a free day from work, and I wasn’t going to spend it cooped up next to a body of water I couldn’t see very well, as Adriana or Amber or whatever her name was had so not so kindly pointed out.
I stripped and took a quick shower, rinsing the smell of that strange woman off my body. I couldn’t even remember if she felt nice last night. The sex was probably terrible. But I didn’t feel as stressed, and my mind wasn’t wound so tightly. It got the job done, even though it wasn’t one to remember, and as I got out of the shower, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I didn’t look at myself much, but when I did, I was always shocked by what I saw. I was a scrawny little kid in school that got manipulated and knocked around by his dad a lot. All legs and arms and an attitude that didn’t fit inside my little body.
But now, I was six foot two and easily two hundred and seventy pounds of muscle. I had lots of facial hair and I also had tattoos covering just about every inch of my body that could be covered up with clothes if I needed to look classy and professional. The phoenix was my first tattoo after I dropped my last name. I got away from my father and wanted nothing to do with him— I didn’t even want all his money— so I made my middle name my last name.
Now, instead of being Zachary Harte Laine, I was Zachary Harte. No middle name.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I made my way up to the loft. I used the loft as my bedroom, even though it really wasn’t a separate part of the warehouse. I dug around until I found some clean clothes to pull on. Then I grabbed my leather jacket and started for my motorcycle.
My car was a beat-up piece of shit and it was still at the bar from last night. I’d called an Uber since I was tipsy, and I figured that since Caden had wanted me to go out drinking with him so bad, he would help me get my car later. It wasn’t like I was afraid it would be stolen.
It was just a scrap of garbage I’d found on the side of the road that I had hauled to my place. I worked on it and fixed it up, and it ran just fine. I fixed it when it needed to be fixed and rode it to and from work.
But my motorcycle? That thing was my baby.
I threw my leg over her and took in the smell of the ocean. She was sleek and black, with a stripe of chrome running down each side. My motorcycle was a beauty, and people stared at her whenever I rode her down the road.
She deserved that kind of attention. She deserved people gawking at her. She was the belle of the ball, rumbling between my legs as she carried me up the coast of Oregon whenever I needed to get away.
Onyx, I called her.
Onyx was the only woman I needed in my life. She was reliable and hot as hell. And she was loud, but it was only her engine— I didn’t have to talk to her or have her accuse me of not listening to what she was saying.
I rode her into a gas station and started to fill up her tank. I knew she was thirsty, and I was itching for a drive up the coast. I wanted to feel the wind in my hair and smell the salt water as I blew by it on my black bullet.
I wanted to find a secluded beach and stand there so I could take in the crashing of the water against the shoreline. I stuck the gas nozzle in her tank and started to fill her up, but a giggling sound caught my attention.
I turned my head and saw a little girl skipping across the parking lot while clutching onto her mother’s hand.
I watched them for a while before they disappeared into the gas station. The little girl had bouncing brown curls and a massive smile on her face. The mother looked tired, like she’d been put through the wringer, even though it was only ten in the morning.
It made me ache for my own mother, which is lame, but it was how I fucking felt. Soon, a change of plans happened.
Closing up the gas tank, I hopped onto Onyx and rode back into town. The sea soon receded behind me, and the crashing shores gave way to the bustling city of Brookings.
I wove through the streets with my sunglasses on, ignoring the stares of people standing on the sidewalk as I made my way to the edge of town. I rode up to the edge of the Oregon-Washington border before I rode off the beaten path, but an hour later, I was crossing through the gates.
The gates of the cemetery.
Parking my bike, I slowly walked down the concrete path. I studied all the tombstones, some much smaller than they ever needed to be. I walked quietly by people grieving the loss of their loved ones and took off my sunglasses, trying to be respectful of the dead as I walked past them. Their dead bodies were six feet underneath my footfalls as I made my way to the back end of the cemetery. Lined with trees and shaded from the better part of the sun.
I stopped just shy of my mother’s grave before I sighed and shook my head.
“I wish you were still here, Ma,” I said. “There’s no reason for you not to be.”
I was squeezing my sunglasses so tightly that I thought I was going to break them in my hands.
“I know you did your best by me, and I’ll never fault you for that.”
Flashes of my childhood came crashing back to me, and it took my breath away. People think that being rich solves all problems but in my family, that wasn’t the case. We may have had tons of money but we didn’t have love, or respect, or peace and quiet. Those things are priceless.
I remembered fights my parents had and the way my father used to roar at my mother. The names he called her and the way she would try to shield me from it all. I could still smell the alcohol that soaked his breath as I jumped in front of my mother time and time again, hoping to shield her the same way she tried to shield me.
“I’m still working at the lumber company. Overtime, most weeks. It’s decent pay, and it keeps me afloat. Figured you’d be proud of that.”
The wind started to kick up and rustle the trees, blowing leaves my way as I drew in a deep breath.
“And no, I don’t talk to him, if you’re wondering. I never will, if I’ve got any say in the matter.”
I sighed as I looked around. I hated coming to the cemetery. I hated talking to her gravestone. I hated having to relive the fact that she was dead, and I hated having to come to terms with what killed her.
Or rather, who killed her.
“I don’t blame you, Ma, if you’re worried about that. You did the best you could. You got away from a man who destroyed us. That took a lot of strength. I just needed to be stronger for you.”
I swallowed my guilt down as I closed my eyes, trying to conjure her face in my mind’s eye. But with each passing day, her memory slowly faded. With each passing day, I looked less like her and more like him. With each passing day, her corpse rotted underneath the city of Brookings, Oregon while my mind slowly chiseled away at the last bit of sanity I had left.
“I wish I could’ve been stronger for you,” I said.
The wind kicked up around my body, fluttering my coat as the leaves danced around my feet. It almost felt like the wind was trying to wrap me up, encase me in its cool strength, and tell me something.
I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to figure out what.
“I love you, Ma. I’m always going to. And I need you to know that I don’t hate you. That I’m not mad at you. You endured enough from life, and it just didn’t want to give you a break. No one can fault you for that.”
I closed my eyes and saw my mother’s body being carried out from our huge, mansion-sized home. Her wrist hung over the edge of the gurney. Her skin was pale, but the slit in her wrist was crimson red.
“I could never hate you,” I said breathlessly.
The wind kicked up so hard it almost knocked me off my feet. I steadied myself, taking a step back as my eyes flew open. I sighed as I took in my mother’s gravestone one last time, then I bent over and put my hand on it. I placed a small kiss at the corner of the jagged granite, weathered from years of wind, storms, and rain.
Then I turned around and started back for my bike.
I slid my sunglasses onto my face to shield my eyes from the wind. It pressed at my back like it was pushing me away from my mother’s grave. It swirled around my legs and wafted up the back of my jacket, and it didn’t stop until my feet hit the parking lot of the cemetery.
I looked back one last time to take in my mother’s grave from afar before I slung my leg over Onyx.
Then, I struck up my bike and left.