Daria
It had been hours since I’d met with Rocky and I was still replaying every moment in my mind.
He looked completely different that I’d remembered. I knew it had been a while, but nothing could have prepared me for the dramatic change he’d undergone, from a sweet little boy to a hardened man.
He was a lot taller, though that was to be expected. His dark hair was shaved, but he’d grown his beard out. There were tattoos, intricate designs, covering every inch of his shirtless body. I’d almost done a double take when I saw him, so surprised by what he looked like. If it weren’t for his bright blue eyes that instantly seemed to transport me to my youth, I never would have recognized him.
As soon as I stepped in the shop I knew he couldn’t recognize me. He was wearing a cocky smirk that seemed so out of place on the face that I use to know. I remembered how he used to give out smiles freely, crack jokes to make me happy and laugh spontaneously and generously. But now, he was very reserved. He seemed older than his twenty-two years, weathered. But there was something else. He seemed distant. Darker. Like he’d suffered as I had in the time we’d been apart. I knew it didn’t make sense for me to assume his life was all smooth sailing, but I truly wanted to know what had hardened him up like that.
I was absently stirring a pot of soup on the stove, my mind completely occupied by thoughts of Rocky when the sudden slamming of a door broke me out of my reverie.
So surprised at my mother’s sudden arrival, I dropped the wooden spoon into the pot, shrieking when it splashed and droplets of hot soup landed all over me.
“Daria!” Mom called, rushing over.
“Hi Mom,” I laughed. “Dinner’s ready.”
There was no other place to eat except at the kitchen counter, and no stools so we had to stand. Still, the fact that we even had a kitchen was a blessing.
“How was work?” I asked Mom.
“It was fine. I ran into Cameron Weston. You remember him, don’t you?”
I frowned, searching my memories. “Rocky’s uncle?” I asked and she nodded. “That’s funny, I saw Rocky Weston today. He offered me a job at his shop.”
Mom’s spoon clattered loudly in her bowl and I looked up from my own in shock, wondering what the problem was.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Daria,” she said slowly and I raised my eyebrows in response.
“What do you mean? This is Rocky we’re talking about. We grew up together.”
“I know, but Daria… When I was talking to Cameron, he mentioned something about Rocky’s Dad. He was murdered a few months ago by the Nightmare MC.”
“The what?” I asked, thoroughly confused.
My mother sighed and gave me a sad smile. “I forgot you were so young when we were here. Do you remember Rocky’s father?”
I nodded. “Vaguely, why?”
“He was the president of Satan’s Wings, the motorcycle club. Back in the day, I was part of the club too.”
“No way!” I gasped.
“I was quite wild in my youth, you know. Anyway, Rocky’s dad was the president until he was murdered by a rival club. Now Cameron’s running things, and from what I gather, Rocky’s gotten involved too.”
“Mom, you can’t expect me to judge them right after you told me you were also in their gang!” I was shouting now, angrier than I could rationally explain.
“Sweetheart. Did you ever wonder why we moved from here?”
I looked away at that. My whole life I’d assumed that she’d met my stepfather and decided to move away to live with him, taking me with her. I’d harbored a lot of hatred for my mother over the years, assuming that she was the reason we were stuck in a life that took us years to get out of. Even with all the abuse she’d received and all the times that she’d protected me, there was still a part of me that resented her.
“We moved away because I wanted a better life for you. I life away from the violence and drama of the club.”
Something about that struck me the wrong way. Away from the ‘violence and drama’? My entire life had been filled with that. One wrong look and my stepfather would inflict pain beyond compare, worse because of the fact that we used to trust him. Once upon a time he truly was my father, and my hero. But not long after, he became my worst nightmare. ‘Away from the violence’ was the most ironic thing I’d ever heard coming out of my mother’s mouth.
“Didn’t work out for the best though, did it?” I muttered, no longer able to hold back my bitterness.
Her sharp intake of breath told me that she’d heard and I forced myself to ignore the slight pang of guilt I felt. It was harsh but it was the truth. I wished that I could go back and live someone else’s life, rid myself of the invisible scars that marred every inch of my body. Most of all, I wanted to go back to my childhood, back when I really didn’t know anything of violence and cruelty.
“I did my best, sweetheart. I know I made a lot of bad decisions but when we moved back here, I still didn’t want you to get involved. He’s hurting, Daria. He wants revenge for his father’s murder and won’t stop until he gets it. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
My mother took a few steps closer to me, hesitant like she was afraid I would lash out. It killed a part of me knowing that in some way I reminded her of my stepdad.
“Please listen to me.” She took both my hands in her own and looked me dead in the eye, scaring me a lot more than I would let on. “Please don’t take the job. I don’t want you having anything to do with the Walkers, or the club. Trust me, you're better off without all of that in your life.”
Perhaps it was the sincerity in which she spoke or the newfound knowledge that she’d left Springville to keep me safe, however futile that turned out, but I found myself nodding firmly.
“Okay, Mom. I promise.”
She lifted a hand to cup my face before turning away. I stood silent by the counter a few moments longer, the mental images of both a younger Rocky and the older one burned in my mind.
It was strange, I had gone months, maybe years without thinking of him. And now, after a brief encounter, he was all I could think about. Was it just residual affection for the little boy that saved me when I was a kid, or was it something more?
In truth, I felt ashamed. I felt like I’d abandoned a close friend in his time of need. Sure, we hadn’t seen each other in years, and I didn’t know that faintest thing about him anymore, but I still felt the guilt rising up and threatening to choke me.
Breathing deeply, I pushed all thoughts of him from my mind. My mother didn’t ask for much and she’d spent her life trying to protect me. Rationally, I knew she had tried her best and I could never fault her for that. If she didn’t want me to associate with Rocky then I wouldn’t. For her.
Another job would come along eventually, I was sure of it.