Lucy
I knocked as I opened the front door. I didn’t want to draw attention to my presence at the door and have my parents – especially my father– look outside. They would have seen the Charger sitting in the driveway, and there would have been a confrontation. I needed to avoid that if at all possible.
“Anybody home?” I called into tomb-silent house. The air was crisp and cool, as always. It stayed about the same temperature all year, not quite cold, but never warm.
I closed the door and walked into the entry way.
“Mom? Dad?” I called.
Suddenly, out of the blue, my mother was in my face. “Oh my god, Lucy, where have you been? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Have you been taking care of yourself?” Her hands were on my face, my shoulders, my arms, my hips. She spoke frantically, as if I were returning from having run away instead of making my first appearance after being kicked out.
“Mom, I’m okay,” I told her, taking her hands and putting them down. “I just came to talk to you and Dad about some things.”
All the color sank from her face. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
“You and Dad kicked me out of the house. What do you think?” I snapped.
“That was all your dad, honey. I didn’t have anything to do with that,” she pleaded.
“You didn’t stop him,” I said with raised eyebrows.
I walked through the living room where the fight had occurred last time. I headed for the dining room. I wanted somewhere to sit, a room where we all had to at least pretend we were sensible people. I didn’t want to seem like I was afraid of my father’s wrath anymore. I wasn’t. I had plenty of people to back me up if things went wrong, and I was beginning to realize they were very likely everything I had expected them to be when it came to protecting themselves and each other.
My mother followed behind me, and I heard my dad coming downstairs.
His voice boomed. “Did I hear Lucy come in?”
“Yes, dear,” my mother called out to him.
I had only been gone a short time, but I felt I didn’t fit in anymore in this world.
My father stepped into the room, and there was a mixture of joy and anger in his face immediately. I could tell he was happy to see me, but he was also angry that I had taken him at his word. I had stayed gone when I left.
I stood up and let him hug me. His arms felt foreign to me, stiff, like he didn’t know how to be affectionate. I’d had better, more sincere hugs from complete strangers in the time I’d been gone.
“Are you back?” he asked.
“Why are you both treating me like I ran away?” I snapped at him.
He backed away and tried to say something. His mouth kept trying to form words, but nothing was coming out. He was just as shocked as my mother had been.
“Have a seat, Dad,” I told him dryly. “You, too, Mom. I need to talk to both of you.”
The time for being apologetic, if there had ever been such a time, was gone. I was not the same sad, ashamed girl I had been when I left their house. There was nothing I needed to be ashamed of. Any decisions I had made were my own, even the dumb ones, like sleeping with a married man. Any decisions that had been made for me, such as being kicked out of my parents’ house, were not mine to answer for.
“What is this about, Lucy?” my father asked, the sternness in his voice returning. He didn’t like being put in his place, and he could probably tell that was exactly what was about to happen.
“After you kicked me out, some things in my life have changed. Before I go along with those changes, out of respect to you, my parents, I feel I need to let you know where I am and what I’m doing,” I started. It hadn’t sounded as formal in my head.
“What are you talking about?” my father asked, his voice a little more urgent. I could tell he was getting antsy, and he wanted me to get to the point.
“I’m seeing someone,” I announced.
“That’s great, honey,” my mother said immediately, obviously a knee-jerk reaction. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.”
“Lauren,” my father said, shutting her up. He turned to face me. “So, you mean to tell me I kicked you out on the street and you found a pimp to whore you out.”
“Bryan!” my mother shouted.
“Lauren, let me handle this,” he snapped. Always the controlling asshole.
“Mom, he is a great guy, and he’s not a pimp,” I said, leaning to the side to obviously look past my father. It was amazing to me that he’d never beaten us. All he had were his words, fortunately, but they still hurt when he wanted them to.
“Well, I’m sure he is,” my father snapped. “He’s obviously taking good care of his best girl, huh?”
“Dad, he’s not a pimp. He’s a biker,” I said.
“Oh, even better. You hear that, Lauren? She’s dating a biker,” he roared.
“Better than a pimp,” my mother squeaked. She closed her eyes, regretting her remark as soon as she’d made it.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, laughing.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“You are,” I told my father. “Sitting in this sterile house, pretending you control something because you can shut your wife up and you ran off the daughter who refused to fit in with your life.”
“How dare you come into my house and talk to me this way!” he shouted.
“Who’s raising his voice and shouting at everyone?” I asked him. “It’s not me, and it’s not my mother, your wife. And I don’t see anyone else in the room. You might want to sit down and shut up, and listen for a change.”
He did as I suggested, noticing I wasn’t backing down from him. I wasn’t cowering in my chair the way I had cowered from his voice on the couch. He had a habit of standing up as he raised his voice, as if it took his whole body to increase his volume.
“Now, it’s serious with this biker. His name is Blade.”
My father groaned, but I shot him a look, and he raised his hands, as if to remind me he wasn’t saying anything.
“He took me in when someone froze my checking account, locked me out of my money, and kicked me onto the street. He got me a job with another member of his motorcycle club, a guy who runs his own construction company. He pays well, and I even have insurance to take care of the baby.”
My mother’s face beamed as I spoke. As ludicrous as my story was, she was loving it. My father just sat and watched with his arms crossed. He seemed to be pouting, like a small child! I knew he hated hearing about the baby.
“I’m living with him, and marriage has come up. He has offered to take care of my baby and even adopt it,” I told them.
“You can’t be serious,” my father snapped. He’d had all he could take, it seemed.
“Look, I need to come by at some point with some of the guys from the MC and pick up my things,” I told him, ignoring his outburst.
“You can’t be serious,” he repeated himself slowly, as if I hadn’t heard him the first time.
“What do you find so hard to believe? That I’ve fallen in love with someone, or that you kicked your own daughter out on street? Because, frankly, I find that last part pretty unbelievable,” I said.
“No, you’re not going to come in here and talk to us any way you want to,” my father snapped again. He stood up, even though he wasn’t raising his voice this time. “Your mother and I aren’t going to sit here and take this from you.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you to take anything from me. I’m asking you to accept my life as it is now. I’m not asking to come back into this house. I’m asking you to allow me to get my things out of it. I’m asking you two to continue to be my parents even as I take a different path from what was originally planned for me.”
“No. Your life is an insult to everything I’ve done for this family. I refuse to accept that my daughter is living with a man who can’t even go by his real name. He’s probably a criminal. What’s the name of his gang?” he asked.
“His motorcycle club is The Vicious Thrills,” I told him.
“The Vicious Thrills! Sounds like something out of a movie. You have no right to come in here and ask us to accept this horrid abomination of a lifestyle. I want you out. Don’t come back again,” he said, pointing at the door.
“Bryan,” my mother pleaded, crying again.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” I told her as I got up. I was apologizing for leaving her with that horrible man. My father really was despicable.
“Don’t speak to her,” he snapped.
“Fine, I’ll leave, but this time, don’t come looking for me,” I said in his face.
“What? What are you talking about?” His face turned red as he tried to deny that he’d been looking for me.
“Word gets around on the street, Dad. You start asking about someone involved with an organization like The Vicious Thrills, everyone knows. Everyone sees that shit. Don’t do it.” I turned and started to walk away.
“Don’t come in here and threaten me. I’m your father,” he bellowed behind me. “I’m not done talking to you. Come back here. Don’t walk away while I’m talking to you.”
He continued shouting as I walked through the door. I wasn’t sad to be leaving my parents behind as much as I was sad that my dad was so angry. He was hurting himself with his anger more than he was ever going to hurt either one of us. He was shutting me out, and it probably wasn’t going to be long before my mother did something about it. She looked like she was at the end of her rope, as well. I just hoped she found help.
The black Charger waited for me in the driveway, humming, with Blade sitting in the driver seat, ready to take me away from everything and return me to my real family. The MC was much tighter than my family had ever been, I fought back tears as I got in. I knew that once the car was in gear, it was over.
“Everything okay?” Blade asked.
I nodded. “We don’t have to worry about my folks or any of my things from the house. That part of my life is over.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He reached a hand over and rubbed my leg.
“It’s okay. I’m better off. I look forward to raising our child as a Vicious Thrill,” I told him.
I stared at the house as Blade backed out of the driveway. Once we were on the street and starting to pull away from my old home, I let one tear fall down my cheek. I didn’t let him see it. I didn’t want to let anyone see me cry. I may have been leaving my dad behind with all his little rules, but I felt like that one still applied where I was going. I didn’t want anyone at the MC to see my weaknesses.