Page 5 of Anchored to the Storm

My tongue pushed against the inside of my cheek for a long pause before I had calmed enough to say, “By chance, can I read this story in a journal or something so I can just kill you now?”

He smirked. “Already hungry for more blood?” He held up a fist. “Give me a bump.”

Giving up on the old coot, I held out my open hand.

The shitty storyteller was thrilled. “Atta boy!” And handed me a beer.

I cracked it open and swallowed the bitterness, hoping for it to be the remedy I needed. Not even halfway through the bottle, my body eased, and then my mind stopped racing around a track like a NASCAR vehicle running out of gas. The sensation was so rewarding I downed the rest and now understood the ‘nectar of the Gods’ statement. I even confessed, “You’re no longer so annoying.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

A grin developed on my face; that’s how peaceful I finally felt. “Take it however you like.”

His playful tone began to fade as he commented, “Ah, finally nice and relaxed. Good.”

I rolled my neck and shoulders, the empty bottle moving with me. “So good.”

There was some much-appreciated and needed silence. It gave me the time to realize I had just been had. I exhaled as it dawned on me that I truly was a silly rabbit. I fell right into tonight’s predator’s hands. I stared at the empty beer bottle, the result of so much purposeful banter. This had been the only way to get me to ‘ease up’. “Okay, Styx. You have my full attention.”

Not that he hadn’t all along, but I wasn’t being a good listener. Until now.

He confessed, “Sorry, I had to play you for a fool.”

No blame in my heart, I shook my head, staring at the bottle. “It was needed. I’m, uh, was, a little shook up.”

“Of course. Hell-n-back can do that to a man.”

Man. Now I nodded, grateful for the respect.

My grandfather mindlessly pulled at the label of his own empty bottle, returning to his story. He easily remembered right where he left off. “Many moons.”

Not daring to move, my eyes began to water.

He added, “So many I lost count.”

My jaw ticked back and forth.

“But… one evening, she finally returned.”

I pulled a shaky breath into my tightening lungs.

“She had legs again. She was naked.”

There was no joking around about sex. Styx was telling me a dark secret I could feel closing in on me.

He whispered through building emotions. “And she was bleeding.”

I looked up to the ceiling. Noma, I need you.

“An infant in her arms.”

Still staring up at the Heavens that weren’t answering me, tears rolled down my face.

Noma had told me Dad’s mom had died at birth, as mine did. The similarity seemed coincidental. That belief was so wrong.

Styx wiped under his eyes and his nose, then told me, “And handed me my son.”

The bottle slipped from my hand.