FIFTEEN
Eli
We left it there.
It wasn't something we discussed or planned on, but something that had just happened.
After Helen stuffed a plate for Peyton to take home, and she spent the five-minute car ride back to their place complaining about how we could let her eat so much, we took Coop for a short walk which wasn't even necessary since the kids had run him ragged, and we both got ready for bed.
And we didn't talk about it.
Autumn had needed to go back on our plans to get kinky at my place, to pass out almost immediately because, apparently, sex toys were a hot commodity when put on Black Friday sales, and she was even soliciting Peyton to help her out. I had offered, but she had a kind and roundabout way of - essentially - telling me I would be in the way. Because Peyton had worked for her here and there, she knew how to use the system and where all the items were while I would likely just keep asking questions which would only slow them down.
I understood that.
So when I got up, them so long gone that the coffee machine had already bleeped off, I took Coop with me back to my place so I could put the finishing touches on the pieces for the show.
One day.
Before, it had seemed like a monumental thing, like a life-or-death situation, like it was my only chance in life.
That day, as I put a splash of color here or a small detail there, it suddenly didn't seem quite as life-altering.
If it went well, great.
If it flopped, well, I'd survive.
Maybe, subconsciously, I had been putting so much pressure on myself to earn the approval of others when all I really had needed all along was the approval of those who loved me.
I won't say it was easy walking in there, facing them down, knowing that while there was more relief and love than anything else, that there was also resentment and anger as well. They wouldn't tell me that. In fact, I suspected all of it would likely not come out for a good, long time.
By then, I hoped I would be better prepared for it.
Because that entire day just showed me that whatever pain I felt in prison with cutting them off paled completely in comparison to having to go there and deal with the consequences of my actions.
My parents.
My brothers.
My sisters-in-law.
But most especially, the kids.
Becca who was hurt most by it.
The ten others who I didn't even know, hadn't ever met, had to ask whose were whose.
That shit gutted me in a way I wasn't aware of before.
But I was going to make an effort. I was going to get together with them all, family by family, and I was going to get to know them, let them get to know me.
My mother had been right.
I had plenty of time.
Most of them were six and under.
Almost all their memories would include me.
As for Becca, well, I had some work to do.
But she was willing to work at it with me.
We would get there someday too.
I hadn't given them my address because, with everything else going on, it simply hadn't come up. But I had made sure I had given my mother my cell. As such, I had thirty-two texts from her, Pops, Ryan, Mark, Shane, Fee, Lea, Dusty, Scotti and - because she apparently had her own cell - Becca.
I could tell as I fetched my phone by the squeezing sensation in my chest that this was the right thing. I had forgotten over the course of six long years what it was like to feel it, the love, the loyalty, the sense of belonging.
It wouldn't be easy, I knew.
There was still work to be done.
On myself.
If I couldn't shut them out, if I couldn't shut myself down completely, well, then I needed to find a way to keep control, even when the anger came.
I wouldn't be going back into the family business.
I was sure no one was even thinking that was a remote possibility.
But even without that, there would be triggers.
Pretending there weren't would only set me up for failure.
Autumn had been right one night after a session that had left marks on her back and butt again, when she said I had her now. I did. And having a safe, consensual, mutually enjoyable outlet like that was helping more than I could express.
She had also suggested boxing.
Which, well, was a great idea.
I was a little pissed at myself for not thinking of it sooner.
I needed that hitting sensation.
That was why using a flogger, a paddle, my bare palm, on Autumn helped.
That violence was necessary to purge the rage.
So hitting a bag - or another person - at a boxing gym was the perfect way to keep myself under control.
I was going to look into it as soon as my show was over.
"Yo yo bro," Bobby called, letting himself in as I was becoming accustomed to. "You barely been around, man," he said, coming around the bend to the kitchen, coffees in hand.
"Been with Autumn. And yesterday, I went to Thanksgiving."
He paused in handing me my cup. "Like with your family?" he asked, voice hesitant.
"Yeah, with my family."
"Man!" he said, grinning huge, like it in any way affected him. "That's good fucking news. See? I knew you needed to dip your wick. A woman has a way of putting shit in perspective. Fuck the stupid and stubborn right out of you."
Eloquent he was not.
Wise, well, he often was.
"So, me and Nat are excited for your show, man. She went shopping and got me, what she called 'appropriate attire.' Apparently, nothing I own would work."
"Remind me to buy Nat something nice for Christmas, man."
"Don't deserve her."
"Nope," I agreed, but gave him a smile. "I don't deserve Autumn either. But here we both are."
"Two assholes who lucked the fuck out," he agreed, tapping his cup to mine.
"You can say that again."
"Don't look at me."
That was how Autumn greeted me at her apartment later that night, coming in at almost ten which meant that she had spent sixteen hours on her feet at that store.
"Um..."
"Don't look at me either," Peyton demanded as she came in, closing, and locking the door.
And, well, of course I looked at them.
The day took a toll on them.
Autumn was pale with purple bruises under her eyes. Her mascara was swiped in an arch on her eyelids. But otherwise, she looked like herself. In need of food, a shower, and bed, but herself.
"I said don't!" Peyton shrieked as my eyes went over to her.
And Peyton, well, she was fresh-faced.
As in, without a single trace of makeup.
And she was actually dressed in plain bluejeans that I didn't think she would be caught dead in, and a simple black long-sleeve tee. Sure, she had her multi-colored hair and her nose ring. But that was it. She was without any of her usual embellishments.
She looked about five years younger.
And almost painfully sweet and innocent.
I think I finally understood why she worked so hard on her makeup and style. She didn't want anyone to see her and think 'sweet and innocent' or anything even akin to it. And, to be fair, it would be a pretty big shock to them if they saw that and then she opened her mouth and proved it wrong.
I mean, she absolutely was sweet, but only to her select few people. She certainly didn't want that getting out to the masses.
"My turkey coma made me sleep through my three AM alarm that would have made this," she said, waving a hand at her face, "disappear. Ugh, I need a shower. And a good kill," she declared, moving across the room, snatching a book off the coffee table, and disappearing down the hall.
I looked over at Autumn, leaning against the counter, dead on her feet. "Come on, I'll give you a foot rub, and you can get some sleep."
"That was practically porn," she said, attempting a tired smile, and following me into the bedroom.
So I rubbed her feet and she went to sleep.
And we didn't talk about them.
My family.
Which was why, the following day, I hadn't been prepared.
"I can totally wear a corset dress and leather boots, right?" Peyton called from the hall as Autumn fiddled with her outfit.
The show was in an hour.
I had gone over early in the morning to get everything all set up and get the plans from the coordinator. Then I had met Autumn for a late lunch when she closed the shop early.
I stopped by my place to snag some clothes, then made my way to the girls' apartment to, well, wait - and in Autumn's case, watch - for them to get ready.
"Oh my God!" Autumn hissed, eyes huge in her reflection. "No, you absolutely can not wear a corset--"
The door burst open, and Peyton walked in in a simple, rather elegant, cocktail dress. Her hair was down, but curled. Her makeup was minimalist. The only thing she had on that screamed 'Peyton' was her black shoes that had rainbow-colored unicorn horns for heels.
"Ha, look at that face," Peyton said with a smile as she moved to sit near me at the edge of the bed. "I know how to dress for things, Mom," she said, rolling her eyes. "I like that dress."
I fucking loved that dress.
In fact, I loved it so much, that when she came out in it, I had to peel up the skirt, and fuck her against the wall until she screamed my name.
It was a cobalt blue with a slightly lighter blue lace over it. Where the bust scalloped on the lower level, the lace went to her neckline. Sleeveless, and just short enough to show off some leg and keep it classy, it set off her eyes, her skin, her hair, and was fucking perfect.
I'd have been proud to have her on my arm wearing a potato sack - or the hideously oversized tees she sometimes wore to bed - but having her on my arm at my first show looking like she did? Yeah, I was fucking puffed up in the chest.
"Alright," Autumn said, taking a deep breath as she took one last look at herself and turned. "I'm ready."
I moved to stand. "One last thing," I said, as I moved toward her.
"Did I forget to zip?" she asked, trying to look down her back.
Which was perfect, because I could reach for the jewelry box without her seeing. When she turned back around, her gaze fell on the hard-to-describe, but the closest I could get was robins-egg-blue, box with a simple satin white bow tied around it.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Whatever that is, it's too much."
"Is she always this bad about receiving gifts?" I asked, looking over at Peyton who made no attempt to hide the fact that she was watching the interaction.
"She once shrieked and threw a birthday present I gave her."
"Because you filled it with fake spiders, you jackass," Autumn objected. "That moved."
"Well, you wouldn't buy it if they were just all still," Peyton said, rolling her eyes. "Open your present. You don't turn down a present from a man who rubs your feet and gives you good orgasms."
Oh, Peyton.
"I still say that this is unnecessary, and that you don't need to buy me things," she said, giving me a firm look as she reached for the box.
"Noted. But that won't stop me," I agreed as she untied the white ribbon. It didn't exactly escape me either that her fingers stroked over it after she carefully laid it on her dresser. Autumn worked hard and made enough money to pay bills and have some leftover, but I was pretty sure she didn't have enough money lying around to buy designer jewelry.
It was superficial, sure, but it was a small little experience I was happy to give to her.
"Oh," her air whooshed out as she pulled open the box, then the little robins-egg-blue satchel to pull out the diamond earrings. "Eli..."
"Well, I mean there are no cool blood splatters on them," Peyton said, moving to stand. "But I guess they're nice," she said, giving me a wink. "I'm assuming you're going to thank him from an upward-facing position, and I don't need that trauma in my life," she declared, walking out toward the living room. "I'll wait in the car."
"Thank you,"Autumn said, voice a little thick after we were alone again.
"Literally the least I could do," I said, reaching for the box so she could turn and put them on. Once she was done, she twined her arms around my neck, and kissed me until she swayed on her feet.
The whole goddamn drive to the gallery involved a pretty severe case of blue balls, even though I had just had her less than an hour before.
"Ooh, fancy," Peyton declared to the server who came to us with champagne as soon as we arrived.
We had about twenty minutes to hang around, talking with the other artist who had a wall that evening, an older woman who did social commentary pieces that had Peyton engaged in lively conversation with her until the doors finally opened, and people came in.
Those people?
My entire family, sans kids, and the Rivers men as well.
My gaze went to Autumn, finding her eyes huge and her lips parted. "Oh my God. I totally forgot. I kind of slipped and said you had a show today. I'm so sorry. I should have--"
"Sweetheart, it's fine," I said, putting an arm around her waist, and pulling her in. "I was just surprised. It's fine."
And it was.
As soon as I saw their faces, my heart did an expanding thing in my chest.
I wanted them there.
I hadn't even known it until I saw them.
There was also a small part of me that was immediately nervous, a sensation that I wasn't all that familiar with. Not because I thought they would think my work was shit - they had always praised it in the past, but because several of the pieces revolved around my darkness, around the hollowness, around their absence.
In fact, the painting their eyes went to immediately was the large one with all their heads ducked and the faceless children.
And every last one of them looked taken aback, then sad.
"I think it will help them understand," Autumn said, reading me. "They can see that you hadn't been able to actually shut them out like you thought you did. They were always there, always haunting you. I think that is good for them to see."
"Oh, my, this is a good turnout," the coordinator said, looking around at my family as they milled around, looking at walls.
As if on cue, the door opened again, and in walked some other familiar faces.
See, you didn't work in the underbelly of Navesink Bank without making some friends - and acquaintances - that existed down there as well.
For me, that meant Breaker, Shooter, Paine, Sawyer, and the Grassi family.
And, somehow, they all knew about the show.
"Eli," Antony Grassi, the patriarch of a dock-owning local mob family said, coming up, taking my hand. "One of my men, Anthony Galleo, told me to keep an eye for your show, that I might want a piece for myself. I can see his taste is as impeccable as usual. Glad to see you are back on your feet," he added, clamping a hand behind my shoulder before moving away.
"Ah, isn't that the guy who owns Famigilia?" Autumn asked as she watched him join his sons in greeting the other artist. Manners, that family always had them in spades.
"Yeah," I agreed, enjoying watching her mind race, something that was clear in her eyes.
"But he said one of his guys... oh," she said, turning to look at him again, then back at me. "Are they like... the mafia?" she whispered in excitement.
"I sense a Sopranos marathon in my future, huh?" I asked, then laughed when she looked guilty as charged.
"This is really something," Hunt said, coming up after all the friends had greeted and congratulated me. Coming from him, someone whose artistic skills had always surpassed mine, even though now, I was comfortable saying we were pretty neck-and-neck, though our canvas was different, it truly meant a lot. "Fee wants to hire you to do a portrait of the girls. I'd be offended," he said, giving me a smirk, "but you're clearly better at portraits than I am."
By the end of the night, most pictures on each wall had sold stickers in the corners, though they would continue to stay up for a few more days.
"I've done four shows here," the other artist, Magda, announced after everyone had filed out and we - Magda, me, Autumn, and Peyton - were handed one final round of champagne, "and I have never sold more than one painting on the opening night. You have many cultured friends," she praised, beaming, this night a clearcut success for the both of us. "I will share a gallery with you anytime," she added, clinking my glass, draining hers, then making her way out the door.
"Eli," my mother called, she and Pops being the only two who didn't have babysitters to go save from their, as Fee called them, demon spawn, and had only walked out a moment before.
"Yeah, Ma?" I called back, brows drawn together.
"Tomorrow is Sunday dinner. And in case you forgot, attendance is mandatory. That goes for you girls too," she added, giving Autumn and Peyton a very firm Helen Mallick don't-fuck-with-me look.
"Mama Dukes, you have food, I'm there," Peyton declared. "I mean that literally. You order a little too much extra Chinese, you can call me over like a dog to clean up the leftovers."
Ma smiled at that, it being clear she was a fan of Peyton's particular brand of absurdity.
"We'll be there, Ma," I agreed, giving Autumn a little squeeze.
The we thing was still new, but somehow completely comfortable at the same time. I guess that was maybe how you knew it was right.
"Let me know if we can bring anything," Autumn added.
My mother took a second, looking at us, clearly still a little emotional at having me - and us - around, but then gave us a smile, and was gone.
"Mandatory, huh?" Autumn asked, moving around to press her chest to mine, her arms behind my shoulders.
"She's serious about that too. She will hunt us down. There is no excuse good enough not to show. It looks like people are going to have to go without their cock rings and butt plugs on Sundays from now on."
And so they would.
We never missed a Sunday from that day forward.
After all, I had a lot of catching up to do.