CHAPTER TEN
Ty
As far as the two of us, we just left it at that, really. She loved me and I loved her. We agreed that a long-distance relationship wasn't really fair to either of us, but I knew in my gut, way deep down, that I'd never look at another woman the way I looked at her. I'd wait for her until my dick fell off if that was how long it took. Candy had changed something inside of me. She saw the tender parts of me and to her, they were strengths rather than weaknesses, and that meant the world to me. And besides that, she was so gentle with me, like she was with everyone. She didn't see my toughness as an excuse to be hard on me; she saw right past it and accepted me for who I was, through and through. I still didn't quite understand what she saw in me, but after talking with her, I couldn't help but accept her affection and admit to her that I felt the same way. We promised to call and text each other often.
And then she said goodbye.
I had some time alone to reflect on everything she'd said, but my head wasn't too clear on account of all the pain meds they had me on. I just felt kinda... what's the word for it? Melancholy-like. I couldn't wait to see her again. I was excited to be with her, whenever that might happen. I wanted to send her a text saying as much, but the Wildcats had stolen my phone.
Before leaving, Candy had called my Ma and told her what had happened. I was nervous about Ma seeing me like this, I had no idea what I was gonna tell her, but I was thinking. I was thinking real, real hard.
I was thinking I had to quit The Life.
That was what we called it, in the gang, doing our gangster shit— The Life. The thought of quitting and "going legit" had been rolling around at the back of my mind for a while now, but this last debacle with the Wildcats just made it clear that was what I had to do. I didn't know what kind of "legit" job I could even get since my only skills were hustling and bartending, but... well, it was a start. Bartending was a legit job. I'd have to work a lot more to make ends meet, but if it meant never endangering my family like that again, I thought a pay cut might not be so bad.
I had pretty much made the decision when Ma and Justin came to see me. She broke into tears as soon as she stepped through the door, and even Justin looked a little watery-eyed as he stood at the foot of the bed, looking at me suspiciously. Well, I guess he couldn’t really help it. He was uncomfortable seeing his big brother laid out in a hospital bed. I was uncomfortable being seen by him in this condition. Being "the strong one" in my family was such a core part of my identity that this moment of weakness felt surreal as fuck.
"Tyler Jameson Franklin," Ma blubbered into my shoulder.
"Don't call me Tyler," I mumbled, unable to help myself.
"Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry." I sighed and rubbed my face, then looked up at her. My Ma had always been a pretty lady, but looking at her now, I noticed that she looked tired. Older. Her hair was graying at the temples and there were fine lines around her mouth and eyes. She looked weary as fuck, and I knew— well, aging does that, I guess, but I knew a lot of it was probably my fault. I was having, I think, what they call a "moment of clarity." As my Ma held my hand and cried, I realized that everything I had done to try and provide for my family had equally forced us apart. Everything I had done with the intention of helping had also hurt them. The guilt just heaped on top of itself. I felt like a fucking orange in a juice press, and suddenly, it squeezed out my confession.
"Ma, I haven't been honest with ya. I think you know that already," I added. "I think you know I've been keepin' stuff from ya for a long time."
"Yeah," she said stiffly. "Are you gonna finally tell me?"
"I don't wanna, but I think I have to," I huffed. "When I was a teenager, at the garage— right after Pa left— y'know, when I picked up the job after school to help you out."
"Yeah?"
"I was makin' minimum wage, and you were workin' so hard. Neither of us made enough money to survive, and we still had to take care of Justin. I saw you runnin' yourself ragged, Ma, tryin' to take care of us boys and work fifty hours a week. I saw you gettin' sick, losin' weight. You didn't smile for months." I heaved a sigh. "After workin' full-time at the garage that summer, the money was too good to refuse. So I took the full-time job and dropped outta school... as you already know."
Wordlessly, my Ma nodded. I could tell she felt responsible for all that, and I wanted to reassure her she wasn't, but I also wanted to just get the fucking story over with.
"Well, a couple months later..." I drew a deep breath and sighed again. I was nervous. I was afraid she'd reject me or something like she'd be mad at me and never wanna see me again and throw me outta the house or... maybe I was afraid she'd ground me. Maybe I still felt like that sixteen-year-old kid in some ways. "I didn't really get a promotion at the garage."
"...what?" Her jaw dropped. "But you were assistant manager for years—"
"No." I clenched my teeth. "I was a good mechanic, a good salesperson... one of our customers noticed me. He was always in there with these old vintage bikes and I kinda had a knack for 'em. This guy, he said I had a poker face like no one he'd ever seen. He said... he said he saw something in me, and that I could be more than an assistant manager at a motorcycle mechanic's."
"So what... what happened?"
"I joined a gang."
There. Bomb dropped. Dead silence. Even Justin was shocked because I had never admitted it to him outright before. He uttered a soft, surprised "Wow" while mom stood there with tears running down her face, her body stock-still like a statue. I reached for her hand, but she pulled away, closing her eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Ty," she whispered, covering her eyes.
Honestly, if I hadn't been so weak I might've tried to defend myself, to justify myself. I might've made some kind of disgusting martyr speech about "everything I'd done for this family" or whatever, but the truth was, I felt like shit about what I'd done. I felt like shit for lying to her for over ten years, leading a double-life right under her nose, and I was never gonna tell her how close I'd come to getting one of them hurt. She had every right to be pissed and upset with me and I had no right to defend myself. Eventually, Ma composed herself and sat on the edge of the bed. She was trembling all over, and every now and again, a big shudder would run through her body. Justin came over and patted her shoulder. She leaned into him, embracing him, and he embraced her back as best he could, looking at me uncertainly over her shoulder.
"I'm quitting," I said after a while. "I've been in gang trouble before, Ma, but never this deep. I can't do it no more. I'm gonna see if I can get a gig managing a bar or something— a real manager gig, ya know? I'm done with all this illegal shit, I... I just wanted to provide for you guys, but I shouldn't have done it like I did. I'll do whatever I have to, but I'm gonna take care of you both like always. I don't know what we're gonna do while I'm laid up, but we'll think of something..."
"I've been writing," Justin volunteered. "I did some freelance articles online about rare diseases using a Mom's phone that writes for me."
"What? Justin, that's fuckin' awesome," I said, my heart swelling with pride over my little brother's brains. My body tried to get choked up, but I refused to look any weaker in front of them than I already did, I mean, I had an oxygen tube in my nose for Christ's sake, I wasn't gonna cry on top of it.
"Well, I was gonna try out for junior varsity football, but I changed my mind," he joked. "Decided to try some writing instead. Dunno if I can make enough to pay the rent, but..."
"It's somethin', and it's amazing." I smiled up at him and he grinned back at me. Ma just sat there, crying silently into her hands.
***
I got out of the hospital the next day. I was still beat up and sore as fuck, my cracked ribs hadn't healed properly yet, and my back and kidneys hurt so much I could barely stand up straight. Despite it all, I refused to let the nurses take me out in a wheelchair. I had spent two days in bed, and I had had enough of the whole convalescent bullshit. It was time get back to hustlin'.
Well, not hustlin' like I used to, of course.
Ma barely spoke to me for like a week. I think she was just kind of numb from the shock of what I had told her. I didn't blame her for needing her space, but I still felt bad. Guilt hung around me like a dark cloud. I wished there was something I could do or say to make it better for her, but... what? I had told her the truth, and now I was running myself ragged looking for a "real job." Ma was looking for work too, in spite of me repeatedly telling her not to. I wasn't gonna see her get sick from stress again, I refused. I'd sell my kidney before I saw my poor Ma work herself to death again.
Unfortunately, for my own job search, the market was pretty rough. I was rough. For that first week, I still walked kinda weird, limping a little and my back was kinda crooked. Between my weird walk and my beat-up, bruised face, nobody wanted to hire me. They wouldn't even talk to me. When I made phone calls, I was confident that I'd have more luck because they couldn't see me, but then I ran into a different obstacle that I hadn't dealt with before:
Professionalism.
It was a big word with a real vague definition, but apparently, even bartenders had to be a certain type of "professional." I noticed as I called around, that they all talked a certain way and acted a certain manner. I, however, talked... well, I talked like an angry sixteen-year-old hellion, didn't I? Cause I had never learned any better. I joined the Gray Wolves when I was sixteen and they didn't give a shit how I talked, they only cared how good I was with a monkey wrench and whether I could hold my own in a fight. I started looking at mechanics' shops, too, but work there was even scarcer, and my name was sorta well-known. Not like I was famous or anything, but the community was tight, and if one guy knew about me, the rest of 'em would too.
Almost a month went by with me frantically looking for work. I picked up some side jobs here and there, handyman type crap and mechanic work where they could pay me under the table, but no permanent gigs. I pulled every string I knew with my guys, but nothing came up. It probably didn't help that after a month, my face wasn't fully healed yet, and my nose would probably be crooked forever.
Justin did all he could to pitch in. Ma couldn't find a job, either, because nobody wanted to hire a fifty-year-old woman who hadn't worked in ten years. Our financial straits were dire, but somehow, we survived. I just prayed that nothing came up with Justin before we had some kinda stable income. His arm was still all messed up, and sometimes, I could hear him crying at night because it hurt him so bad... but it had to wait. We still didn't have the money. I just hoped it didn't spiral into an infection or something because Justin was now technically the breadwinner of the household.
That made me feel like shit. Actually, everything made me feel like shit these days, everything made me feel like a miserable failure... except one thing.
Candy.
We texted every morning, and we talked every night, sometimes for hours. No matter how low I was, she would build me back up somehow. I had no idea how she did it, but I always felt like a new man after talking to her. She claimed I did the same for her, that when she was stressed and down on herself I made her feel better, but I didn't see how I was doing that. I wasn’t doing anything special. Our conversations, however, kept me going. If it wasn’t for her, I probably would've started drinking again or worse. In a lot of ways, I felt like I was on the edge, but Candy kept me safe and sane.
I loved her so damn much.
I wanted to go visit her, but it seemed like an extravagant sort of a waste of money when we could barely even put food on the table.
Until one day, Candy called me in the middle of the day. I had just finished mowing the grass for the first day of spring, and I was outside, beating the clippings off my shoes when my cell rang. I thought it was weird because we usually "scheduled" our calls for later at night on purpose and only texted during the day. I wondered if something was wrong and my heart sped up as I answered the call.
"Ty!" She was in tears, I mean she was hysterical, and talking a mile a minute. I couldn't understand a damn word.
"Whoa, whoa, honey, slow down. What's wrong?" I rubbed my forehead, trying to summon the patience not to yell at her because hearing her that upset scared the shit out of me. I was already scheming in my head how I could get to her and fix it— whatever "it" was. But I couldn't do that until she calmed down enough to tell me. She, however, just kept crying and my mind was racing through every worst-case scenario possible that would have my level-headed angel this upset. Candy couldn't be in tears. Ever. I never wanted to hear her like that again. The sound of her crying was like a dagger piercing through my heart. "Breathe, baby doll, breathe."
Candy seemed to take my advice, because for a few, brief moments, silence ensued.
"Okay," I said. "I didn't catch a word of what you just said. What's wrong, babe?"
"Ty—" Her voice wavered, thick with tears, "I'm pregnant."
***
Candy was gonna have a baby— my baby. We were gonna be parents. It was terrifying. I was not ready, I had never imagined myself as a dad or whatever, but as soon as she said it, my world lit up, and I knew I wanted a family. I saw us in a big house in the country somewhere with Ma there to help take care of her grandchildren. I imagined Justin would come visit us often, but I already knew he'd be going to college in Philly, probably, and get an apartment there. My heart ached as I realized that Candy and her baby were all I wanted in the entire fucking universe. I had no idea how it was gonna work out with my being broke and out of work and everything, but we were gonna make it work.
I was gonna be a father.
Even though I was no longer with the Gray Wolves, Charlie was still my best friend. I had avoided asking anyone for help this past month, but now, I just had to get to Penn State to see Candy. I had to see her. I had to hold her, to kiss her. I had no money and no bike, nothing, so I called Charlie and explained what was happening. He congratulated me in a giddy voice and then asked how he could help. And if you don't know anything about bikers, you should know that our motorcycles are practically our children. Well, maybe a little less than that, but we love our bikes. A lot. They were big, important parts of our lives. And without hesitation, Charlie said, "Take my bike, man, however long you need it. I'll loan you some cash for gas and stuff. You've gotta go to her."
I knew I wasn't supposed to cry and everything, so it was a good thing we were talking on the phone, 'cause I did get a little choked up.
"Thanks, man," I said gruffly. "I'll meet you downtown in an hour."
Philly to the main campus of Penn State was usually about a three-hour ride. I made it in a little over two.
I hadn't told Candy I was coming because I wanted to surprise her, but when I got to campus I realized I had no idea where she stayed. Was she in the dorm? Did grad students even have dorms? Did she have an apartment in town? I rode around for a while, feeling stupid, trying to think of some way I could find out, but I wasn't much good at covert shit like that. Finally, I just relented and called her. She didn't answer. I guess she was in class or something, so I sent her a text.
Hey darlin, I'm on campus. I had to see you. Tell me where to meet you.
After that, I settled in to wait, since I had no idea how long it might be until she had a chance to respond. To my surprise, she came back almost immediately with:
In grad apartments. Can't call now. Brad at my place :(
I had never before been tested like this, but it amazed me, looking back on that day, how little it took to send me into a frenzy, torn between rage and frantic fear for the woman I loved.
Ten words and a frowny face.
Ten words and a frowny face, and suddenly I was on the bike, tires squealing and engine deafening, headed toward the cluster of residential buildings across campus. I didn't know I could run that fast, but I hauled ass, drawing quizzical looks and disapproving stares as I darted from building to building, reading the signs just carefully enough to make sure it wasn't the building I wanted. Finally, I found the grad student building, but I couldn't get in. The front door was secured and you couldn't get in unless you had a key card.
"CANDY!" I bellowed, banging on the glass with both hands, my voice shrill with panic. I took out my phone and texted her again.
Can't get in the building which apartment r u?
No answer.
Which apartment r u??
No answer.
I tried to call her, but she didn't pick up. I was pacing back and forth in front of the building like a crazy person, muttering to myself and shaking all over, thinking of what that piece of shit psychotic frat boy might do to my angel. I kept thinking of her trying to face him, imagining her so weak and frail and him, a big hulking loser, looming over her. The thought drove me fucking crazy and I screamed again, "CANDY!"
Unbeknownst to me, as I was having a complete mental and emotional breakdown on the lawn in front of the grad apartments, someone had seen me flipping out and had called security. I was still pacing, looking up at the building. I spotted some open windows and I was calculating whether I could climb up the side of the building and get inside when a team of four security guards approached me. One of them had a can of mace in hand.
"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave the premises," one of them said.
"No! You don't understand, it's my girlfriend, she's—"
"You're not authorized to be here," said another guard, "and you're causing a disturbance—"
"Goddamn right I'm causing a disturbance, my girl is up there and she's—"
"Sir—"
"Would you let me finish!?" I cried, but the security guards were not interested in my story. All four of them stepped forward to grab me and I hollered, trying to get away, but honestly, I had a little bit of a flashback to when the Wildcats assaulted me and I kinda froze up. I didn't hit a single one of them. I was terrified. I almost pissed myself, I was so fuckin' scared.
As they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me off, my brain kicked back into gear. I started screaming her name, thrashing wildly, trying to yank myself free of their hold, when suddenly, my phone slipped out of my jacket. As it fell to the ground I saw that I had a new response from her. "Read the fucking text—" I snapped at the guy who picked up my phone, "she's not safe."
"Oh wow," the guy murmured, his eyes going wide as he read the text. "This guy's not a complete lunatic, look at this." He showed the phone to the ring leader and all four let go of me at the same time.
"Let's go," My phone was thrust back in my hands and I followed the guards closely. As I ran after them, I looked at the response glowing on the screen in my hand:
Appt 4D. HELP