Iron Devils MC

1

Sunny

I need to be brief, no emotion.

I can't let him hear if my voice trembles, my breath quickens, or if the uncontrollable stream of tears down my cheeks get brushed frantically away by the back of my hand. All as I attempt to have a simple phone call knowing I will recall everything that's happened.

I remind myself constantly as I drive up to the gas station. The awareness of other people causes me to tense and reconsider using the payphone in such a busy place. The thought of someone approaching me makes me lean back and close my eyes, maybe there's another option.

Ideas go rushing around my head, all the possibilities of what I could be doing instead of this phone call cause me to breathe faster. Maybe I could make it on my own , get a job and just lay low on my own. Never bother no one, just live my life alone. But how would I get money for rent or food? I'd need a job but how could I get one without an address or a phone? Is there anyone I know that can help that I haven't thought about? Is it too late to go back?, and as soon as that thought crosses my mind I wince and let out a sigh.

I need to relax, I try telling myself. And like always it's easier said than done.

Maybe some music will help drown out some of my thoughts, I think, so I lean forward and turn on the radio, slouching back resting my head against the seat, my eyes closing, taking a deep breath, all the while still being able to hear the bustle of people filling up their tanks. I don't care for the station or what's playing but I like the noise, it allows me a chance to arrange my thoughts.

At this point I'm already here at the gas station , it doesn't make sense to turn back, I've made the decision to do this, and if not this phone call what else? What else am I going to do? No. I am not thinking about this again. It's decided.

And slowly I feel myself begin to calm down, my mind made up.

And so I sat in my car, a piece of actual junk that the owner questioned me twice about buying, as did his son and the receptionist of the garage. A car from the 90's,that makes me worry every time I drive, but one that gave me so much joy and made me feel so independent when I first laid eyes on it.

A car that had me grinning ,silently thinking that if the men I grew up with could see me right now driving this piece of shit, they'd laugh. A car that had been the last thing I could remember being happy about.

They'd tease me, I remember thinking, nothing malicious , just ribbing on a girl they'd all practically raised since her mother skipped out on her and whose dad was too busy playing president and calling the shots in an office she never saw , in a clubhouse that was his real home, away from her.

Away from the 9 year old girl he'd been left with that he had no idea how to raise.

Away from the girl who'd hold onto his jeans as he tried to leave, the two times in a month he'd visit.

Visit to make sure she was breathing and cared for but mostly go to see his sons , Cameron and Jackson. She couldn't help recall.

Cameron and Jackson, the sons who he adored, the sons who he said made suffering 17 years with that insufferable whore, who was more a cold hearted witch than she was a mother, worth it.

She winced , why was she thinking about this now , it was too much , too much hurt and anger.

Anger at her family for their abandonment of her. I guess since mum left her dad and brothers didn't want the chance that she would leave them too , so they pulled a Uno reverse card and left instead.

Left her at 15, everyone at that clubhouse, left her at 15,all the people she had grown up with, all alone.

She should consider herself fortunate that her mother was still in town , not too happy to take in strays but willing enough to house one she had a hand in making , until she left, again.