Lifers

  When my eyes met Momma’s, she looked away.

  They didn’t try to touch me. No hugs, no handshakes, no words for their son.

  I was pointed toward a chair by the corrections officer, and we sat looking at each other—strangers thrown together by the sick fuck that was fate.

  The corrections officer handed me a copy of my release form, and explained again the rules of my parole.

  Nobody else had spoken.

  I was processed and released.

  It was a bizarre feeling walking into the visitors’ parking lot. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it all seemed so unreal. I was looking for Dad’s old pickup truck, but he pressed his key fob, and lights flashed on a Toyota.

  “You got a new car, Dad?”

  He looked shocked that I’d spoken and nodded in reply.

  “Four years now,” he said.

  Those were the first words he’d spoken to me since saying that I was no longer his son all those years before.

  Momma just stared at me.

  No one spoke on the way home. I sat in the back seat, staring out of the window while roads and houses and trees flashed by me. As the scenery gradually became more familiar, the panicky feelings started to subside, and I was excited to see places I recognized. But all the time the stone in the pit of my stomach weighed heavier the nearer we got to the place I’d called home.

  We bumped down the familiar dirt road and the cottonwoods parted. They were taller than I remembered, more luxuriant, but the house looked smaller and kind of rundown. Dad had always been insistent on cleaning out the gutters and keeping the paintwork fresh. I remembered the times Mikey and I had bitched about having to climb up ladders to fix things. It looked like nothing had been fixed in a long while. Eight years, perhaps.

  Inside, the house was the same but different. A new lampshade here; a new table in the kitchen there. The family room seemed the least changed, the sofa and curtains familiar. Only the TV had been updated.

  “I’ve made your bed.”

  My head snapped up, stunned that Momma had spoken.

  I scanned her face for something else, but she wasn’t looking at me.

  “Thanks,” I said at last.

  I headed upstairs, pausing outside Mikey’s room. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open—and stared. Nothing, and I mean nothing had changed. His clothes were still hanging across the chair as if he might come back at any moment and throw them on. His posters and pictures were still tacked to the walls, and his yearbook was open at the page with the football team.

  I closed my eyes as my stomach coiled and rolled. I backed out and headed for my own room.

  That had definitely changed. Everything had been stripped out, all the posters gone, all my books and school stuff gone, the closet and drawers empty. It hit me then—they hadn’t planned on me coming back. I wondered what had changed their minds. Why was I here?

  I know now it was a way of punishing me more—as if I hadn’t thought about Mikey every waking hour of every day since it had happened.

  Beside me, Torrey stretched and yawned.

  “Did I fall asleep?”

  “Only for a few minutes—twenty, maybe.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Too much snortin’ and snorin’,” I smiled.

  “I do not snore!” she complained, roughly pushing my shoulder.

  “If you say so, sweetheart.”

  “You’re not being very smooth, Jordan Kane. I bet Mikey wouldn’t have told a woman that she snored!”

  I liked to hear her talking about Mikey like he was a real person, not someone whose name had to be whispered. She had a way of helping me remember the good stuff, not just the way he died.

  “I wish you could have known Mikey. He was a great guy.”

  “Hmm, two Kane brothers,” she said, with a gentle smile. “That sounds like double trouble to me.”

  “Hell, yeah! We got into a lot of shit, that’s for sure.”

  “Sounds like he led the way most of the time.”

  I smiled to myself.

  “Well, yeah. He was the oldest by 18 months. I wanted to be just like him.”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “That’s something that’s been puzzling me, Jordan. When you talk about him, I picture this wild, bad boy—a version of you. But when everyone else mentions him, it’s like he was halfway between a saint and an angel.”

  I knew what she meant, but that’s only because people wanted to remember the good stuff.

  “He was real, Torrey. But special. Blessed, you know? He just had a way of drawin’ people to him. Like you.”

  She was quiet and I didn’t know what she was thinking.

  “Did you ever say goodbye to him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you went straight from the hospital to juvie. Did you get a chance to visit Mikey’s grave since you got out?”

  Her words hit me with the force of a ten-ton truck.

  “No, I … I don’t even know where … where they put him.”

  “It’s not hard to find out—if you wanted to go.”

  Do I? The words ‘final resting place’ seem so unreal.

  I felt her fingers flutter down my chest, and she laid her hand over my heart.

  “I’ll come with you, if you want to go … if you want me to.”

  “I don’t think I can. I don’t deserve…”

  She slapped my chest hard and my eyes snapped to hers. She looked genuinely angry, like a bad tempered bull in a horn tossing mood.

  “For God’s sake, Jordan! Love isn’t a life sentence! But that’s how you’re using it, like a punishment. You loved your brother and it sounds like he loved you. Do you think for one second he’d want you to live your life rotting away like this? Blaming yourself for being the one who survived? Blaming yourself for living? Would you have wanted that for him if it had been the other way around? Don’t you see? You have to live for both of you!”

  She jumped to her feet and started scrambling around for her clothes. My heart pounded and I felt sick.

  “Are you leavin’?”

  “We’re leaving. We’re going to find Mikey’s grave. Right now!” Her expression softened. “So you might want to put your pants on for that.”

  Was I ready for this? Probably not. I didn’t think I ever would be. But she was right … I needed to do this.

  I dressed fast, while Torrey picked up our trash and paper plates.

  “I don’t even know how to go about findin’ … how… where … where the right place is at,” I admitted, cringing at the thought.

  Torrey squinted at me. “Um, I kinda already know.”

  I turned around to stare at her. She looked slightly nervous, but stuck out her chin defiantly.

  “You do?”

  “Well, yeah. Do you mind?”

  I blew out a long breath. “No, I don’t mind. I’m just…” I ran my hands through my hair. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  She nodded, looking wary, as if I was fixing to bolt—or she was.

  The thought of running had definitely crossed my mind. Stupidly, I’d even considered disappearing while I was still on parole. And the first week with my parents had been so bad, I’d seriously considered doing something to get myself sent back to prison. I guess some sense must have kicked in, because I’d stuck it out.

  Part of me wanted to visit Mikey’s grave, to see if I could do this, but part of me was still that 16-year-old kid, lost and hurting, the kid who just wanted his big brother.

  We packed up the truck in silence. It didn’t take long and Torrey didn’t call me out for going slower than I needed to. Finally, we were done and I’d run out of excuses.

  “So, um, where are we headin’?”

  “South Trinity Street,” she said calmly, measuring my reactions.

  I took a deep breath and started the truck’s engine. The sound reassured me, but as I drove through the town and along familiar streets,
I felt sweat break out all over my body. My heart rate escalated until I was afraid I’d pass out.

  I was almost hyperventilating by the time she said quietly, “We’re here.”

  I climbed out of the truck, feeling numb, my hands shaking, the palms clammy. I thought I was going to be sick.

  I walked to the entrance in a daze, and stared out across the neat turf and narrow, well kept paths.

  “Fuck, I could use a drink,” I admitted.

  Torrey clasped my hand between both of hers. “I’m all out of booze, but I’ve got a hard candy you can have. That any good?”

  I gave a shaky laugh. “Maybe later.”

  “It’s this way,” she said, tugging gently on my hand.

  We walked past rows of ornate headstones, some of which had wilting bouquets in vases next to them.

  “Was I supposed to bring flowers? I feel like I should have.”

  “Just yourself,” she said, soothingly.

  Then I saw his name and cold reality washed over me. It was real—this was real. My brother, who’d been so full of life, so full of love—this was his grave. This was his end. Because of me. The future spun out in front of me and I was alone, my brother no longer at my side.

  I touched the cool stone with my hand, needing to feel it, to make that connection. I closed my eyes, trying to sense something—his presence—anything. But there was nothing, just the polished marble under my fingers.

  Then I opened my eyes and it was as if someone had punched me in the gut when I read the full inscription.

  Michael Gabriel Kane

  November 25, 1987—July 10, 2006

  Beloved Son

  “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”

  I heard a weird, strangled sound, but it was only when Torrey wrapped her arms around my waist that I realized it had come from me.

  “‘Beloved Son!’ Christ, they couldn’t even … they didn’t want … he was my brother, Torrey! My brother! It’s like I never even existed. God, Mikey! I’m so, so sorry! It should have been me! I’d do anythin’ to take it back!”

  I fell to my knees, my head spinning, bile rising in my throat.

  “It should have been me.”

  Torrey was on her knees next to me, the strength of her small body the only thing that kept me from falling further.

  “No!” she gasped. “Don’t say that! I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you survived.” I felt her fingers in my hair and her breath was warm against my neck. “You have to find the strength to be glad, too—for the rest of your life.”

  She tightened her grip and slowly the ground stopped shifting beneath me. I leaned against her, breathing in the scent of summer in her hair.

  After a few minutes, I felt her grip relax.

  “My knees are killing me, Jordan. Can we please sit down?”

  Some of the tension left my body as we both collapsed onto the grass. Torrey snuggled into my side. She leaned her head on my chest and stroked my arms, as if calming a frightened child.

  Her touch soothed me, and I felt an odd sense of peace, sitting there among the tombstones.

  “I was wondering…” she said, after a few minutes.

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  “What would you tell Mikey about me?”

  I raised my eyebrows and shifted so I could look at her, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “You know,” she went on, “guy to guy, brother to brother.”

  “Hmm, you want me to break the bro code?” I teased her.

  “Pretend I’m not here.”

  I almost laughed. “That would be a fuckin’ impossibility.”

  “Aw, go on!”

  I took a deep breath and tucked her into my side again, taking strength from her slender arms around my neck.

  “Hey, Mikey! It’s been a while. I guess you know why I haven’t been by. So, you see my girl, Torrey? She’s somethin’, ain’t she? God, she’s so fine. She’s got the sweetest face, and this mess of long, curly hair the color of corn just before harvest, and it near about kills me to wind it around my fingers, it’s so soft. She’s a real firecracker, too. And she’s one of those people that lights up the room when she walks into it, ya know? She’s so full of livin’, so full of laughter. And fuck, she’s honest. I don’t get away with shit when I’m with her. In the bedroom? Hell, yeah! She’s so fuckin’ hot! I cain’t get enough of her. I know, I know—totally pussy whipped. But I gotta tell ya, bro, she’s so worth it. When she looks at me I can see my future in her eyes—us livin’ our lives together, gettin’ old together, kids—the whole thing. She don’t know it yet, but she’s not gettin’ away from me. Do I love her? It’s more than that, bro. She’s my reason for livin’.”

  I stopped talking and risked a sideways glance at Torrey. She looked stunned, her mouth hanging open. I waited nervously for her to speak. She’d asked me to say the kind of things I would have told Mikey, so that’s what I’d done. I was terrified it was going to backfire on me.

  Say something! I was screaming inside my head.

  She cleared her throat nervously. “Uh, Jordan, that’s … I mean, wow! I didn’t realize … phew!”

  “Too much?” I asked, afraid of her reply.

  “Um, just a little overwhelming.”

  I shrugged. “That’s how I feel. I know you’re not there yet…”

  She didn’t answer, and a small stab of fresh pain entered my heart like a splinter.

  I stood up and pulled her to her feet.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ve got a date to finish.”

  She nodded wordlessly and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. The longer she went without saying anything, the more nervous I became.

  “Jordan, I really care about you…”

  I waited in silence as ice formed in my heart.

  “But I don’t … I’m not…”

  “It’s okay, Torrey,” I sighed, “I know you don’t feel the same. I wouldn’t expect you to. Why would you? You’re beautiful and sweet and kind and so fuckin’ feisty and good. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need me draggin’ you down.” Just saying it tasted like dust and despair.

  She turned angry eyes on me. “Stop putting words in my mouth, Jordan! That’s not what I said and not what I was going to say. It’s just a lot to get my head around. I mean, everything is in front of you now. In a few months you’ll have all the choices you could want. I just happened to be the first woman you ran into. You’re a great guy, and you’ll be beating girls off with a stick once you get your groove back and…”

  That’s what she thinks? Really?

  “No, you’re so wrong, Torrey. It’s way more than that, and I’m gettin’ mighty pissed hearin’ you talk this way. You think I don’t know my own mind, what I want? Hell, I’ve had eight years of wishin’ and dreamin’ but I never thought I could meet someone like you. It’s not just that you accept me for who I am. You make me want to be more than I thought I could ever be. And the way we connect—I’ve never felt anythin’ like that. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel it, too. Tell me!”

  I was almost shouting at her by now, and I could see by the stubborn angle of her chin that I was making her mad. Well, good! This shit was important! I had to make her see what she meant to me.

  But she surprised me again when the expression of fury morphed into a huge grin.

  “You know you’re pretty hot when you get mad, Jordan. You should do it more often!”

  I couldn’t help laughing with relief.

  “Woman, you blow my mind! Are you trying to seduce me in a cemetery?”

  “Hmm, the thought had occurred, but I’m fairly sure there are laws against it.”

  “Yeah, probably,” I agreed, still smiling. “Although Mikey would have got a kick out of the idea.”

  She winked at me and flicked her tongue against her teeth; a move that she knew would have me adjusting my pants.

  “Come o
n, then. Let’s get out of here. Do the rest of the date thing.”

  I turned to Mikey’s grave one last time, resting my hand on the headstone.

  “Bye, Mikey. Love you, man, wherever you are.”

  Torrey hugged me gently, and as we stood there in the afternoon sunshine, I felt a weight that I’d been carrying around for so long slip from my shoulders.

  We walked back to my truck hand in hand and I felt a new sense of purpose and a new sense of peace.

  Painful as it had been, I was glad that she’d forced me to come here. I hadn’t realized that it was something I needed to do.

  “Okay, confession time,” I said, as I drove away from the cemetery. “I don’t have anythin’ else planned. But we could maybe catch a movie if we can sneak in through the fire door. Mikey and me used to do that all of the time. I’d take you for a coffee, but the only place that won’t kick my ass into the street is where you work, and that just don’t seem right for a date. Sorry, I’m kinda out of options, unless you want to hang out at the junkyard with Hulk.”

  Jesus, help me! Did I really just ask a smokin’ hot woman like Torrey if she wanted to hang out at a junkyard? Smooth, Kane, real smooth.

  “Tempting,” she said, tapping her finger against her lip as she obviously tried not to laugh. “But I prefer my idea.”

  I glanced across at her and caught the wicked glint in her eye.

  “Are you gonna share?”

  “We go back to the Rectory and fuck on every flat surface we can find.”

  I nearly drove off the road.

  “Damn, woman!” I said, my voice choked from the rush of adrenalin as I braked hard and the truck came to a shuddering stop.

  I looked down at my hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life and was aware how close we’d come to having an accident.

  We were half off the side of the road, and my mind was flashing back to the night Mikey had died, my body in panic mode.

  “Shit,” I whispered, unable to get the shaking under control.

  “God, I’m so sorry,” Torrey stuttered. “I’m such a freakin’ idiot. Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?”