Madeline Sheehan - Unattainable

With a hard shove, he sent me stumbling sideways into my mother.

“Let’s go,” she whispered loudly, gripping tightly to my middle. “Right now, baby.”

“Don’t leave town, Ms. Matthews,” the male detective called out.

Shaking, I turned my body into my mother and let her guide me toward the elevators.

“I mean it, D,” Deuce bellowed from behind us. “I see her anywhere near—”

My mother skidded to a stop and whirled around. “You’ll never see her again!” she spat angrily. “You’ll never see me or my kids again!

“And if this is anyone’s fault,” she continued. “It’s mine for bringing an innocent little girl around a criminal motorcycle club full of self-important assholes who think with their dicks and their guns instead of their brains!”

On our way to the elevators, we passed by Danny, Ripper, Cox, and Jase, and I turned back toward my mother, refusing to meet their eyes.

“D!” Jase called out.

My mother picked up her pace.

“D, what the fuck!”

Stopping again, she spun around to face Jase as he quickly approached us, and pointed her index finger at him. “Don’t say a fucking word,” she hissed. “I’m not married to you, I don’t share a child with you, I have absolutely nothing in this world tying me to you.”

Jase’s eyes widened. “But you said we could talk.”

“I said that before my daughter was forced to experience yet another violent result of your club, and then publicly humiliated and shunned by the only family she’s ever had because of it!”

“D,” he whispered, raising his arm and holding out his hand. “Don’t do this.”

Setting me aside, my mother stepped forward and slapped Jase’s hand away.

“Come near me again,” she spat, her features twisting with disgust and hatred. “And I will kill you.”

One year later…

Time passes differently when you’re stuck in emotional limbo. It’s slower. Hours go by at a snail’s pace, your feet drag through the days, the weeks; years take forever to come and go. You don’t see things as they are but instead you see them as the way you feel. Things are dark, heavy, even the air feels weighted down. People aren’t smiling at you, they’re whispering about you, they’re laughing.

Not even the sunniest day can overcome the shield of gray skies you’ve built around yourself.

I spent nearly all my life stuck inside an emotional limbo of my own making, constantly waiting for my life to begin, yet completely unaware that with each passing year, I’d remained cemented in the same frame of mind, unable to break free from my own binds.

But once you’ve broken free, the world speeds back up, the days fly by too fast and the nights even faster. You see things differently, in color as opposed to Technicolor. The sun begins to peek out from behind the clouds and suddenly you can see again; you notice people, places, and things you’ve never noticed before. Even the stupid stuff, unimportant in the bigger scheme yet utterly important in that one single, solitary moment, but only because you noticed it and it affected you in a way that made you feel something.

You see a smile for what it really is.

You see people for who they really are.

You know love for the first time.

But most importantly, you can see yourself through the eyes of an unbiased mind and you realized that all that self-loathing, that wishing and wanting, the years spent trying to become someone, anyone else than who you were, was never necessary because there had been nothing wrong with you in the first place. All you’d ended up doing by running and hiding was hurting yourself and everyone else around you.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that, Tegen?” Christopher asked.

My smile grew. “I’m so proud of you,” I told him as I rolled over on our picnic blanket and reached out to tickle his belly.

Giggling, he swatted my hand away. “Mommy’s proud of me too,” he said.

“Everyone is proud of you,” I teased. “Mister, I started kindergarten this week.”

“I miss being home with Mommy.”

“Aww,” I cooed, lifting my hand to ruffle through his long red hair. “I miss being home with her too. I was little once too, you know.”

“You lived inside her tummy, too?”

I nodded. “I did.”

Christopher wrinkled up his little button nose. “But you’re so big!”

I burst out laughing. “Watch it,” I said. “Girls don’t like it when boys say stuff like that.”

I wasn’t big, not at all, but I had put on quite a bit of weight in the last year, thanks to my mother’s round-the-clock cooking.

Christopher went back to playing with his Legos and, knowing I’d been dismissed, with a sigh I rolled back over and squinted up at the sunny California sky.

This was how life should have been from the get-go for my mother and me. Not that I would trade my brother for all the time travel in the world, but even at my age, living with my mother again, I knew peace for what it truly was.

We had a small apartment in downtown San Francisco with only two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchenette. We were living off only my salary and my mother’s disability checks, but we made it work.

And it did.

In fact, the first few months aside, the past year had been one of the most peaceful ones I’d ever had. The three of us did everything together; my mother and Christopher even walked with me to work most days. We always had something to do—trips to the farmer’s market, walks around the city, movies at night, picnics in the park.

And once a month Hawk would ride into town to see Christopher. He’d sleep on the living room couch, spend a week, sometimes less, and then just as quickly was gone. He never spoke of the club, of Deuce or Cage, and neither of us ever asked. Things were quiet and, after everything that had happened, I wanted to keep it that way.

The first few days after Cage had gotten shot were a painful blur to me. My apartment was a crime scene; I was questioned repeatedly by police detectives, and then later by the FBI and the ATF. Everyone wanted to get in on the action; apparently when one brick fell within the confines of a criminal organization, it was expected that all four walls would eventually crumble.

But the Hell’s Horsemen’s walls stood strong, despite it all. Mouths stayed shut, secrets stayed hidden, and the club stayed as strong as ever.

Even so, the entire disaster had made national news, and slowly but surely Hell’s Horsemen and Silver Demons from all over the country began invading San Francisco. The city was crawling with bikers, small riots broke out, and many arrests were made.

They’d come from all corners to show their support for Deuce’s son, a fellow brother. They sat vigils outside the hospital, they revved their engines in unison, a chrome and leather prayer for one of their own.

Cage made it through surgery, but not yet able to breathe on his own, was immediately placed on a ventilator. For a few weeks it was touch and go, and no one knew if he were going to live or die.

And he did die. Twice, actually. Both times doctors were able to restart his heart, and both times Deuce was arrested for assault on hospital staff.

I knew very little of this firsthand as I hadn’t done much but sleep and try to eat for those first few weeks, wishing I could go to the hospital to see Cage, just to touch him, to tell him I loved him…to tell him how sorry I was.

To just be by his side.

It never happened.

When he was well enough to be flown home, that was the last I knew of Cage. My mother eventually asked Eva to stop calling, and Eva respected her wishes.

As far as I knew, ZZ had never been found. Every so often I would get a phone call from the government asking if he’d made contact with me. I’d say no, they’d give me a number to call in case he ever did, and that was that.

Was I happy? No, not really. But I was at peace.

I could honestly say that despite the guilt, the regret, and the space of emptiness inside me that would always be reserved for Cage, I was at peace. I was with my mother again. She’d come clean to me, informing me that most of her memories had been restored, and I had a happy, healthy, beautiful little brother. Life, for the first time ever, was simple.

I’d even started writing again in my free time, something I hadn’t done since I was a teenager.

“Hayley!” Christopher shouted and I used my hand to shade my eyes from the sun. Hayley and Joe stood above us, smiling.

“Damn, Hayley,” I said smiling. “Your boobs are enormous. Imagine what they’re going to look like after you pop that kid out.”

With a groan and a helping hand from Joe, she lowered herself beside me and scowled. “You got jokes, huh? Well, you’re no Kate Moss anymore, so shut it, Teg.”

“Hey,” I scoffed. “I like that I actually have a butt! I don’t have to be jealous of all you lucky bitches with body fat anymore!”

Hayley snorted. “You do realize how utterly ridiculous you just sounded, right? And how many women would beat your small but now existent ass for saying that?”

“If I keep eating like this, I might be a C-cup someday,” I said hopefully, peering down the top of my T-shirt.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Shut up.”

“Ladies,” Joe said as he took a seat beside Christopher. “Don’t subject the little dude to your absurd female issues.

“And by the way, Teg,” he continued. “I’m digging the hair.”

“Me too,” Hayley said, reaching out to run her fingers through my short locks. “It’s really growing fast too.”

Nine months ago I’d cut off my dreads, took out most of my piercings, and threw out every last one of my toe rings. Whoever that girl looking back at me in the mirror had been, she wasn’t me. She was the mask I’d been hiding behind and I was done hiding.

My hair hit my chin now. I’d recently had it cut into a pixie style, short in the back, longer in the front. I hardly wore my contacts anymore and found I actually preferred wearing my glasses. It was sort of like reuniting with an old friend, only this time an old friend who was infinitely more fashionable than before.

“Where’s your mom?” Hayley asked. “Are we eating without her today?”

Yawning, I stretched out my arms and legs before scooting up some and placing my head in Hayley’s lap. “She’ll be here,” I said. “She’s just running late. Said she wanted fresh cold cuts or something. But really, I think she has a crush on Rich.”

“Rich?” Joe asked. “The butcher on Stockton?”

I nodded. “Yeah, they flirt all the time and it makes me ill.”

“But he’s so much older than her.”

I glanced up at Hayley and shrugged. “But he’s a nice man with a good job.”

She smiled down at me. “And he doesn’t ride a motorcycle.”

I smiled back. “There is that.”

“Daddy rides a motorcycle,” Christopher said. “Someday I wanna ride one too.”

“How about a pickup truck?” I suggested. “Or a muscle car? How about your very own fire truck?”

“Nope.” He shook his head exaggeratedly. “I want to be just like Daddy.”

“Well,” I said, sighing. “I tried.”

“There’s a Phish concert next week,” Joe said. “I could always take him with me, introduce him to the other side of the tracks. Where the real men are.”

I snorted. “By real, you mean men who like to wear Crocs, get high, and sing along to Tom Petty while reminiscing about the high school crush that never was?”

“Yep,” Joe said proudly and thumped his fist on his chest. “Real men.”

Hayley started laughing and I smiled along with her. They were so perfect for each other, so in tune to the other. Joe might not be what I would consider aesthetically pleasing, he might play video games more than he helped out around the house, he would probably never stop getting high, but even so he loved his wife. And despite his shortcomings, she loved him.

But people didn’t need to change to suit each other. They just needed to accept their differences. You could love someone just the way they were and still live in harmony together.

I’d realized this too late; because when I had, ZZ had already taken the man I loved away from me.

• • •

Grabbing the head of thick brown hair between his thighs, Cage punched his hips up. “Faster,” he growled. Although gagging, the stupid bitch complied, probably because he was holding her head right where he wanted her and she had no choice but to do whatever the fuck he told her to.