SHANE. As A-Train smoked his cigarette, I walked across the parking lot toward the motorcycles. Although what he said made perfect sense, I didn’t necessarily want to hear it. For some reason I found comfort wallowing in believing the pity I felt was warranted, and everything I was doing was for good reason.

As I got within a few feet of where he stood, he sat down in the seat of his motorcycle and continued to puff on his cigarette.

“So, you riding out with me?” he asked dryly.

“I don’t know. I just…”

“You just what?” he interrupted in a gruff tone.

He stood and momentarily straddled his motorcycle as he took one last pull on the portion of the cigarette which remained. As he exhaled the smoke, he stepped over the motorcycle and tossed the butt onto the parking lot.

“You wanna give me your honest opinion as to whether or not you can whip my ass?” he asked as he turned to face me.

“Excuse me?” I responded, knowing full well what he had said, but for some reason needing to hear him say it again.

“You heard me,” he said as he positioned himself in a fighting stance.

“I have an opinion you won’t get one punch to make contact. Not a fucking one. You know why? Because you’re a washed up piece of overweight shit who’s scared to fight for the title fight. You’re scared to be amongst your friends, and scared like a little bitch you might have to become a man and raise a child who doesn’t fall well within the limits what you perceive as perfect,” he paused and twisted his feet firmly in place.

My blood began to boil.

“Did I hit a nerve? You afraid if you and Kace raise a special needs child someone might eventually call him a retard? Call your little boy a fucking retard? Huh Dekk? Your little retard boy?”

I swung a thunderous right jab toward his left cheek. I have no idea what he did to counter the punch, all I know is it happened with lightning speed. Somehow my right forearm wound up positioned under his left armpit, and he turned approximately ninety degrees to his right, wrapping his right arm around my neck. As I felt the blade from his knife pressing against my neck, I exhaled and stood as still as a statue.

As he laughed a dull laugh and twisted his foot on the cigarette he had earlier thrown onto the parking lot, he pressed the blade of his knife against my neck a little tighter with his left hand. Fearful for what was next, I stood motionless and waited.

“You see Dekk, you threw the punch under the opinion you were going to teach me a lesson. But here’s the thing. I made those comments about your child knowing, absolutely knowing I had to do so to make my point. You swung because you’re going to defend your child regardless. Special needs or not, he’s yours. Subconsciously, you’re already committed to him being your son. And you’re his father. You’re just fucking scared. And there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he spit on the ground beside where he stood.

“That doctor gave you his fucking opinion based on the amnio test they performed. He told you the kid might have some chromosomal disorder. He said he could be born with Down Syndrome. And you fucking disappeared. Well, I got news for you. My nephew is special needs. More specifically, he has Down Syndrome. And he’s one of the best damned people you’ll ever meet. Ever,” he growled into my right ear.

“You see, special needs means just that. He has needs that are special. It doesn’t mean he isn’t deserving of anything and everything that every other person on this earth is deserving of. It only means he has a few needs unique to him – and they’re described as special. Special. You know the definition of special?” he released my neck and pushed me six feet or so into the parking lot.

I rubbed my neck and turned to face him.

“Better or more important than others,” he folded his knife and clipped it onto the pocket of his jeans.

As he stared at me with watchful eyes, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. After he stood for a moment, he exhaled what little smoke was left in his lungs and took another long pull from the cigarette.

“Just to clarify, I said what I said about your boy to make you realize something – you’re already committed to this – emotionally, physically, and spiritually. You just needed to feel it. You’re too damned blind to see it,” he exhaled a cloud of smoke and shook his head lightly.

“Now, you know what we’re gonna do?” he asked.

I stood and stared, still angry over what he said, regardless of why he felt a need to do so.

“We’re going to get on our sleds and ride to Austin. You’re going to apologize to Kace, Ripp, Vee, Austin, the old man, and everyone else who’s been worried about you. I could give two shits whether or not you’re going fight for the championship, makes no difference to me. But you’re going to support Kace through this. And the day will come when your little boy will be born. And every fucking one of us will love him – because he’s part of you, and he’s part of Kace. Now, you ready to ride or you want me to wad you up into another ball and cut you this time?” maintaining eye contact, he bent down and stepped on the cigarette.

“A-Train?” I asked.

“What is it, brother?” he raised his eyebrows and smiled, waiting for me to continue.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and said the only thing I could think of that accurately described how I felt.

“I’m scared.”

As I spoke, I began to cry.

“Been there plenty of times, Dekk. Generally, I’ll ask the man upstairs for spoon full of courage. He hasn’t let me down yet,” he said as he wrapped his arms around me.

As he held me in his arms, I continued to cry. And I came to understand there are times when we’re incapable of understanding life entirely. When the time comes, all we can do is hope we have friends and family to guide us in the direction we may not be able to see in their absence. As he released me from his grasp, he patted me on the shoulder.

“Let’s ride,” I said as I wiped the tears from my eyes.

“You lead the way, brother,” he hesitated and grinned, “I’ve got your back.”

And there was no doubt in my mind he meant exactly what he said.

A-Train had my back.