I heard her cry again. It was coming from the back of the apartment.
I ran into one of the spare rooms and turned on the switch, but nothing came on. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dark, but when they did, I saw this little baby, this beautiful, scared, skinny, little baby, no bigger than half my forearm, covered in shit from head to fucking toe. Her eyes were red and crusted over from crying. She wasn’t in a crib. She was lying on a dirty sheet on the floor. No bottle. No blanket. No lights. No nothing.
I gently scooped her up in my arms, and she weighed practically nothing. Even though she was visibly hurting and I was hurting for her, I remember that first feeling of holding her. Before she was even born, she became the most important thing in the world to me, but holding her sealed the deal. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Nothing.
I would hurt anyone and everyone who ever made my baby cry like that again. I would burn down cities for her.
I fell to the ground with my back against the wall and rocked her until she calmed. I told her about all the things I was going to buy for her. I told her that daddy was here, that she was safe. I got up and found the cleanest towel I could and wrapped her up in it. She settled against my chest and fell asleep.
I was fighting mad. Deeply disturbed. And completely in love. All at the same time.
I was leaving with Max in my arms when the light from the TV flashed, and I saw a shadow in the Lazyboy. Sure enough, it was my Mom. Next to her was an empty bottle of some cheap fucking whiskey and an ashtray full of little bags of leftover crystal.
She didn’t take care of my newborn baby because she was too fucking busy getting drunk and high.
Max would’ve died if I hadn’t gotten to her in time.
It was that thought that set me off. It still pisses me off to this day, and it makes remembering what happened next a whole lot easier to digest when I recall the memory.
Rage consumed me. The kind that makes you want to rip out someone’s throat with your bare fucking hands.
A lit cigarette hung from her bottom lip, an open newspaper on her lap. Her face was covered in pock marks and her skin was draping off of it like it was melting. As much as I wanted to hurt her, it was like the fucking karma cosmos or whatever aligned, because the lit cigarette fell from her mouth, and the newspaper ignited.
I stood there and watched it happen.
I was happy. It couldn’t have gone better if I lit the fire myself. It was a horrible way to die, but knowing what could have happened to Max, I really didn’t give a shit if it was the most horrible death imaginable. To me, in that moment, she deserved it.
I still feel that way.
Mom’s chest rose and fell, so I knew she was alive, but she was so far gone into whatever high she’d been chasing that not even a fire on her lap disturbed her.
When the paper fell to the ground, the carpet caught fire. The light from the flames allowed me to get a good look at the place. There wasn’t a section of the floor that wasn’t covered in filth and rusty syringes poked out of the couch like it was a pin-cushion.
When the flames got higher, I made the decision.
I turned around and left.
I felt the heat behind me as I walked away. I was halfway across the street when the windows exploded and the glass shattered.
I bought diapers, bottles, and formula from the nearby convenient store and hosed Max off in the restroom the best I could. It took me ten minutes to figure out how to put on the diaper.
Preppy saw the flames from my mom’s trailer and pulled up behind the gas station.
He took us home.
He sang to her made up, profanity laced, lullabies.
Max gulped down a bottle so quick she would pause to choke, and my heart skipped out of my chest every time she did it, but then she would keep going.
I was so nervous. I was a single guy in my early twenties who’d never so much as been in the same room as a newborn before. I’d never even spent more than a couple of hours with the same woman.
And suddenly, I had this baby girl to raise. It was the first time in my life that I can say I was truly terrified.
I talked to her again and hummed some Zeppelin to her until she fell asleep on my chest.
I covered us both up with a blanket and watched the fan spin around until I saw lights flashing through my front windows.
Blue and red.
“It turns out the convenient store had some pretty decent surveillance. Since I walked away without seeking help and I made no attempt to douse the fire or save my mom, they arrested me. Charged me with manslaughter and put me away.
Max got sent to foster care right away since they couldn’t find Tricia. They wouldn’t release the baby to Preppy because he was a felon himself, not to mention he didn’t have a legit job on record, anyway. Grace was in Georgia, getting treatment for her first fight with her cancer at the time.
“Do you know what ever happened to Tricia?”
“No, but if she’s smart, she’ll never show her fucking face in this town again.” King sighed. “They took her from me. I was her dad for only three hours, and they were the three best hours of my fucking life. And they fucking took her from me.”
“You’re still her dad,” I offered.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to be,” King said. “While I was away, I did everything I could. Filed papers. Hired lawyers. But it got me nowhere.”
“Is there anything else you can do?” I asked. “There has to be. This can’t be it.”
“There are two options left, at least two that I know of. The first one is a long shot.” King flashed a sad smile. “But there’s this guy, a big shot judge. A dirty fucking politician. Bear has ties to him through the MC. The senator thinks he can make him see things my way and rule for custody in my favor.”
“So what are you waiting for? Do that!” I shouted excitedly.
“It will cost me about a mil,” King said flatly, killing my growing enthusiasm.
“Shit,” I cursed. “A mil? As in a million dollars?”
King laughed. “Yes, Pup, as in one million green-backed American fucking dollars.”
“Do you have that kind of money?” I asked.
“I did,” King said. “I don’t anymore. We sunk everything into getting the granny operation going. Even if I sold the house, it needs work, and that costs even more money. And the market sucks right now, so even if I sold it I wouldn’t be able to come up with even half that.”
“And if you do get custody, you need a home to bring her to,” I added.
“Yeah, I’ve imagined building her a tree house in the big oak by the garage and turning my studio into her room, move my tattoo shit into the garage apartment.”
“Then, where would Bear go?” I asked.
“Home! Bear has a room at his pop’s place and a room at the clubhouse. He just likes to take up all the rent-free space he can.” King laughed.
“I am so, so sorry, about all of it,” I said, tears spilling out onto my cheeks. He wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.
“Don’t be sorry, Pup. I’ll never be the good guy in the story. I let my mom burn to death. I lost my daughter because of who I am and the things I’ve done. That shit’s on me. That’s my cross to carry.”
The deep need to help reunite King with his daughter dictated my decision-making. I took a deep breath and grabbed his hands, folding them onto my lap.
“What do we need to do next?”
“We?”
“Yeah.” I let the word sink in. “We.”
“WE don’t need to do anything. I’ll figure something out.”
“But wait. You said there was a second option.”
King shook his head. “It’s a worst case scenario, and honestly, it’s going to be bad whether I decide to do it or not. I can’t win either way.”
“Tell me what exactly is it you’d have to do.”
“It’s a dark road to travel down, and I’m not sure it’s one I could ever come back from.” It was the lingering sadness in his voice that made my heart break for him and made me not want to press him further. “But it’s a worst case scenario, so I’ll cross that bridge when and if it comes down to it.” King looked at me thoughtfully. “For now, I’m going to kick the granny thing in high gear and see what we can come up with.”
“Let me know if you need my help. I’ll do anything.”
“I’ll remember you said that,” King said, pulling me onto his lap.
“I mean it.”
“So did I,” King replied, squeezing me tighter. He buried his nose in my neck. “I might need you to stay with Grace a while.”
“Why, is she okay? I mean…you know.” I stammered.
“Grace is fine for now, but we might have some shit going down here soon, and I need you far away from it.”
“The Isaac thing?” I asked.
“Yeah, the Isaac thing. But don’t worry about it. Just know that when I say you need to go to Grace’s that’s where you need to be. No questions asked. No arguing bullshit. You got me?”
“I got you.”
“Can we talk more later, Pup? I feel like a fucking chick right now, spilling my guts to you.” King laughed.
“Yeah, we can talk more later,” I said.