Nick

I pulled into the driveway, turned the bike to face the street, and shut off the ignition. After a deep breath, I stepped over the gas tank and brushed the wrinkles from my jeans. The short walk up the driveway brought back memories, but it always did.

And it always would.

I knocked three times on the door.

“Enter!”

I pushed the door open. My father was sitting in his chair watching the news. He still resembled the military man he spent his lifetime being, his buzz-cut hair and athletic physique were a testament to his devotion to the Navy. Retired after 30 years in the military, he was now employed as a groundskeeper at a golf course. In his mind, however, he was simply on extended leave from the Navy.

“Get another tattoo?” he asked.

Nice to see you, too.

“Who is it?” my mother asked, her voice coming from the kitchen.

“It’s Nick, and he’s got a new tattoo,” my father shouted. “A god damned bumblebee. On his neck.”

“Let him in for heaven’s sake.”

“He’s already in. Wouldn’t be seeing his tattoo if he was still on the porch.”

“The tattoo’s old, Pop. Been there for a few years.”

“It’s dark.” He got out of his chair and glared. “Looks new.”

“It’s not.”

He studied my neck for a moment, then glanced over the patches on my kutte. “So, who died?”

“Nobody died, Pop. Just came to talk to mom.”

“Elizabeth, he’s here to see you.”

I shook my head and walked past him. “I’m here to see both of you.”

“Well, when you and your bumblebee get done talking to your mother, I’ll be here.”

To the unknowing bystander, my father would appear to be an asshole. Truthfully, he wasn’t. He had an opinion about everything, and offered it whether the recipient liked it or not, but he meant no harm in doing so. Over the years, I learned to dismiss a good part of what he said as being nothing more than bullshit.

“We’ll both come back and see ya,” I said in a sarcastic tone.

I stepped into the kitchen. My mother stood at the sink washing dishes.

“Why don’t you use the dishwasher?”

“It doesn’t get them clean.”

“It’s got a heat exchanger that superheats the water. It’s gets them clean and sterilizes them.”

“This is relaxing,” she said.

She turned her head to the side and waited. I pressed my lips to her cheek and kissed her. “How’s work?”

“Long hours. One of these days, I’ll retire, but I don’t know when. I’ll be done in just a minute.”

“No hurry,” I said.

I opened the fridge, rummaged through each of the Tupperware containers, and eventually found some fried chicken. I grabbed a few pieces and sat down at the dining room table.

“Get a plate.”

“I don’t need a plate. It’d just be one more to wash.”

“Get something to drink so you don’t choke. That chicken was dry. I don’t know what happened to it.”

“I’m fine. And the chicken’s good. Really.”

At the same time that I finished the second piece of chicken, she got done with the dishes. After drying her hands and tossing the towel on the countertop, she sat down at my side.

“You never come over just to see us, so what’s going on, Nicholas?”

I tossed the chicken bones in the trash, washed my hands, and sat down. “I’ve got some questions about a girl.”

Her eyes lit up. “Did you meet a girl?”

“Settle down. I met a girl, but it’s not what you think. There’s nothing going on.”

She smiled. “Why are you asking about her?”

I shrugged. “I just want to make sure she’s going to be okay. Something happened to her.”

She placed her hand on my forearm. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. She seems to be.”

My mother worked as a counselor for a sexual assault center, and had for as long as I could remember. Her lifetime of exposure to domestic violence, sexual abuse, and other traumatic events women experienced made her a wealth of information on the subjects.

She gripped my forearm. “What’s bothering you?”

“Don’t go gettin’ all mad, just listen, okay?”

“Okay.”

I stared at the center of the table, and tried to speak without emotion, but it wasn’t easy. “If a girl is gang raped by four men, is it possible that she will recover from it without counseling?”

“Oh, Nicholas,” her hand shot up and covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

I shifted my eyes to meet hers. She looked overwhelmed.

“Recover? No. Not without professional help. Survive? Sure. She can survive, but her choice to not seek counseling is foolish. The center should be able to get her all the help she needs. Have her call me.”

“She doesn’t want counseling.”

“Why isn’t she following the recommendations of her case worker?”

“It’s complicated. She didn’t report it as a rape. She doesn’t want to.”

She shook her head. “She still can. And she needs to. It’s part of the process that she needs to go through. Tell her to report it.”

“She won’t. She’s stubborn.”

She sighed. “The men who did this need to be brought to justice.”

My eyes fell to the table. While I contemplated what to say next, she squeezed my arm.

“Nicholas…”

I met her gaze, but didn’t respond.

“Nicholas…”

She gripped my arm firmly. “Nicholas Michael Navarro. I’m your mother. Remember, you came from my womb. I know you all too well. What did you do?”

I shrugged. “They’ve been brought to justice, Mom. Believe me.”

“What did you do?”

Lying to my mother wasn’t possible. Providing very little detail was my only option. “Just trust me. They’ve been dealt with.”

She sighed. “Your friend needs help. What’s her name? I’ll pray for her.”

“Her name doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me her name so I can include her in my prayers.”

I needed all the help I could get. “Peyton.”

She nodded and released my arm. “You’ve got a convincing way about you, Nicholas. Convince your friend to get help. If nothing else, bring her in to see me.”

I stood up. “I’m not bringing her in.”

“People listen to you. They always have. God gave you a gift. Use it.” She reached out and poked me in the chest. “And what did I tell you about wearing that thing in this house?”

“I was in a hurry.”

“I wish you’d grow up and get out of that gang. I feel like we failed you every time I see you wearing that thing.”

“It’s not a gang, it’s a club.”

“Call it whatever makes you feel better about it. It’s a gang. And, when you wear it, you’re a gang member. You’re going to get shot one of these days, and probably for nothing more than wearing that ridiculous thing. Get your friend some help. And go talk to your father, he misses you.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

She hugged me and kissed my cheek. “I love you, too.”

She told me exactly what I expected. Peyton’s hope of sweeping her assault under the rug wasn’t going to work. If she wanted to recover, she would need to seek the help of a professional.

I walked into the living room.

My father cleared his throat. “Sit down.”

I sat on the sofa across from him. He reached for the remote control, turned up the volume on the television, and leaned forward in his seat.

“They still alive?”

I acted surprised. “Who?”

He arched his brow.

My father may have been elderly by most people’s standards, but his hearing was fantastic. His service in the Navy taught him to be attentive, if nothing else.

I glanced over my shoulder. My mother was putting up the dishes. I turned to face him. “For now.”

He relaxed in his seat, folded his arms across his chest, and exhaled. “Don’t you dare get caught.”

“I wasn’t involved, Pop. I’m clean on this one.”

He shook his head. “You and I? We’re a lot alike. I raised you, remember? It isn’t over. If it was, you wouldn’t be here. Remember your training, don’t be driven by anger, and don’t get caught.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Fucking judge gave some kid six months for raping a girl the other day. You see that shit on the news? She was incoherent and drunk, and the little prick raped her.”

I nodded. The case disgusted me. “Yes, Sir. I sure did.”

“When a man rapes a woman, he doesn’t just rape her. He rapes her entire life. She’s forced to live with the pain from that memory for a lifetime. And for that judge to send a message that six months in county jail is a fair trade for what happened to that woman?” He sat up in his chair, clenched his jaw, and took a long breath through his nose. “I’d like to get my hands on that judge and that kid.”

“You and me both, Pop.”

“I can forgive a lot of things. Rape isn’t one of ‘em.”

I didn’t want to talk about it any longer. The more I thought about it, the angrier I was becoming. I stood up. “Yeah? Me neither.”

He could tell my blood was boiling. After studying me for a moment, he lowered his chin slightly. “Love you, Son.”

“Love you, too.”