Clarity
When faced with a moral dilemma, we blindly search for clarity, for some sign we are headed in the right direction. Clarity can be fickle. It eludes us and sometimes we never find it. When that happens, we are left with our best effort. We can only pray we do not choose poorly, and that we are not about to fall on our face. Worse than not finding clarity, is finding it, only to realize, doing the right thing is going to sting.
BREEZE
THEY SAY TIME flies. It didn’t always for me. Before Shame, each day felt to drift away in slow motion, forcing me to dwell in my suffering. Only now it seemed like yesterday Shame showed up to save me. Four plus years felt like four weeks and now I sat sorting through college acceptance letters. Five of them, although I had narrowed it down to three.
“So, where are you off to?” Shame asked, strolling into my room.
“Um, I narrowed it down to UConn, Dartmouth, or Bentley.”
He hopped on the bed, lying with his feet crossed and his arms behind his neck. “Bentley’s out.”
“Why?”
Shame rolled his eyes. “Too close.”
“That’s what I like about it.” I laughed.
“No way.”
“Fine. Well, I hate Connecticut, too preppy. So Dartmouth it is.”
He turned on his side, and picked up the stack of letters. “I know for a fact you have letters in this pile from California.”
I yanked the papers out of his hand. “Yep and California’s out of the question.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“That’s laughable coming from you.”
I was treated with the smile I loved. “I’m excited for you. You get to get the hell outta here and start new. You can be anyone you want. Not Clery’s daughter or a Bastard. You get to be Breeze.”
Yeah, but who was that?
I had been Breeze, the daughter, and the troubled Breeze. When I first met Shame, I was young, naïve, Breeze. I didn’t care for her. I was currently Breeze, the good girl. But was there a place deep inside of me where the real Breeze resided? At least, I believed there was. I needed to find her. I wanted to see what she was made of. But as I stared up into Shame’s twinkling eyes, I wanted to remain the girl who loved him since she was thirteen, and the girl Shame loved back. I leaned closer but my heart sunk as his gaze greeted me with resistance. I was still naïve.
Too often the line remains blurred. We never find clarity. We live somewhere in the fog, grasping at the tiny glimpses of focus life offers.
SHAME
The conflict of wanting her to go and begging her to stay was a daily struggle, one growing more difficult by the day. I leaned toward begging and before I could open my mouth and say, “Go to Bentley,” Breeze stood up and quietly went to the front door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I need some air.”
She closed the door behind her. I stared at the white surface of the door, considering if I could get her away from Southie and keep her close. Maybe it would work. It had for Viv. She was a Bastard and she had made something of her life. If Breeze could do the same, I could have what I wanted, and I would always be able to protect her. If she went to Bentley, she could accomplish getting out of Southie and attaining a degree, as well as be within reach. I was a selfish asshole, but I knew what I wanted.
Gus barked loudly right before screeching tires sounded from the street. My instincts kicked in and I took the stairs two at time. Gunfire rang loudly, along with screaming and car alarms.
I had lived this scene before and it didn’t end well.
The commotion lasted two seconds but the aftermath felt like hours as I cried out for Breeze. I found Tex first. “Ah, fuck,” I screamed, lifting him from the concrete. His chest was covered in bullet holes, his warm blood seeping through my clothing exactly like my old man’s had years earlier. I didn’t need to check his pulse to know he wasn’t breathing.
Dixon had intentionally waited until we let our guards down to retaliate for Dusty and probably Will and his guys. Although we had set things up to look like the Kings took out his guys, Dixon was smart. After the bust on the warehouse, combined with information Dusty supplied him, Dixon had to know The Bastards were responsible. He lost three guys and a blow of that magnitude never went ignored.
I didn’t want to let go of Tex, but I had to find Breeze. If she was hurt, or worse, I would never forgive myself. Seconds ago, I wanted to keep her, but the blood soaking through my clothing confirmed that would never happen. Tex was gone, a good brother lost to the feud that would never end. I refused to lose anyone else. After lowering Tex to the ground, I picked up his cowboy hat up and covered his face.
“Shame.” I heard her weak cry as I rounded Tex’s car. For a moment, I felt relief, until I noticed the blood gushing from her leg.
I squatted next to her. “No. Fuck. No.” It wasn’t until I realized she hadn’t been shot that I managed a breath. She bled from a gash in her leg. Glass from the window littered the area around her. I ripped a piece of her T-shirt and used it to soak up the blood. Then I pulled her into my arms and held onto her as I waited for the paramedics to arrive.
Her eyes were closed but she was still with me. I used my thumb to removes spots of blood from her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Dimples. You shouldn’t be here, but I loved you too much to send you back to your pop. I thought you were better off with me. I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”
Voices shouted at me. Tank’s and Dozer’s, but they swam in the haze of my mind. Someone pulled on Breeze, and I shoved the person back. “Shame, you have to let them take her.”
“Tank?”
“Yeah, buddy. The paramedics need to look at her.”
I relaxed my grip and watched as the paramedics loaded Breeze onto a gurney.
“Tex is dead,” I said, grabbing a handful of Tank’s shirt.
“I know. I swear those fuckers will pay.” They would. We would retaliate because that was who The Bastards were, what we did, always on the defensive. Maybe it was time for a good offense. “Benson needs to talk to you.”
I nodded and Tank held his hand out to help me up. Benson stared me as I approached him. “Maybe it’s time you sent her home,” he said, all authoritative, as if he had any fucking say in how I handled things.
“Mind your fucking business, Detective.”
“Look around you, Shame. You’re a gangbanger who’s losing control. The developers are pushing gangs out of this city. The only thing left in Southie is sex, and that isn’t what you’re about. How long until Dixon wins? At what cost? Do you actually think she’s better off with you?” He started to say something else, but stopped when Tank walked up. He kept it professional after that. “Any idea who did this?”
Of course I knew. “Nope,” I answered as smugly as possible.
He stuffed his pen and small notebook in the front pocket of his trousers. “Waste of my fucking time,” Benson mumbled under his breath and walked away.
Dixon wanted a war.
He would get one.
This was the second time he entreated on Bastard turf and I didn’t plan to stop until he was dead. Like The Villains, we would wait until they thought things were forgotten. My goal was to get Breeze long out of town, and then I was going after Dixon’s family the way he had went after mine.
Then there are the moments when clarity slams into you, those life altering situations when the haze clears, and everything about our life is crystal clear. Even if it is nothing like we had hoped, we can finally see.