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I tried to laugh, but it came out as a gurgle as I coughed and coughed until I could breathe again. Snatching a napkin off the table, I dabbed at my watering eyes. Deacon took his seat again but watched me with a serious face full of worry.
“I’m okay,” I told him, waving my hand dismissively. “That was just… a shock.” I still hadn’t looked back down at the photo.
I should have recognized him.Why didn’t I recognize him?
I still had memories of times with my parents, only a couple but they were still there. I thought I could envision them so clearly, so vividly. Seeing them racing around the backyard and my dad reading me a bedtime story with funny voices and sounds. I looked down at the picture again, a flood of emotions rushing over me like waves at the beach. Just one after another. The more I stared at the picture, I could start to hear his voice in my head and the sound of his deep rolling laughter—laughter I remember always comparing to Santa Claus. It was so deep, so rough.
I traced his face, the picture was obviously faded because I couldn’t see his bright blue eyes. They were dulled. I didn’t get my eyes from my dad. They were all Mom’s. I wasn’t even sure what color you would call them, maybe like a murky green.
Feeling my babies shuffling inside me, I began to well up, a reminder that my children would never get to meet their grandparents.
Deacon picked up the top photo and placed it to the side.
I gasped.
There she was.
Standing between my dad and Deacon’s dad, smiling so brightly.
“Don’t stop running. No matter what. Never stop. Don’t stop running.”
“But Mommy...” I sniffed, clutching at her dress as she lifted me up and placed me through the window. There were raised voices in another room, one of which I recognized as my father’s. A gunshot rang out loudly from what sounded like the kitchen.
“Run Chelsea, run.”
I took one last look at my mom, her eyes pleaded with me to move. I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing out the last tears and turned away. I took off toward the woods behind our house, passing into the cover just as I heard the second shot echo through the dark night.
I didn’t stop running.
Tears streamed down my cheeks and I sniffed loudly. Those eyes, the same eyes that I look at and see in the mirror every morning. That night they were filled with so much pain, so much heartache as she realized what she would have to do. Give up her life to save mine.
Deacon slipped into the booth beside me and wrapped his arm around me. I leaned my head against his shoulder as I picked up the photo, swiping at my tears to try and get my eyes to focus.
My mom had one hand resting on her stomach, which I could see now was rounded. She was pregnant with me. A small pain shot through my stomach and I cringed, gripping the edge of the table in my hand.
“Woah there,” Deacon soothed, looking at me in pure concern. “Are you okay?”
The pain began to subside and my heart rate came down. I eased out my breath, trying not to panic at the strange sensation. The doctor did explain that things like Braxton Hicks contractions could come along at some time but not to worry.
“Yeah, just one of those fake contractions I think.”
“Uh-uh, no way. I’m calling Optimus.” He pulled his cell from his pocket. Usually, I would tell him to stop being a damn idiot and put it away. But right now, Optimus was actually exactly what I needed. I was feeling overwhelmed, and I knew that wasn’t Deacon’s intention. He thought this would be a happy moment, a good thing for me to see. But all I felt right now was pressure building inside my chest.
It was easy to work through things when the people in your head and in your memories almost felt like figments of your imagination. I never had any toys or objects from that period of time. I left with the clothes on my back, and even they were taken in for evidence when I was finally found. I had nothing to touch or to feel or to see, anything that I knew would prove that they were real, apart from the pain inside when I thought of them.
But now, now I could see the love in their eyes, their smiles and their presence.
And you know what? At that point I was so numb, I couldn’t even tell if the emotion I was feeling was utter joy or complete devastation.
I stormed into the diner with Blizzard at my back.
Deacon saw me coming. He was in his police uniform and I’d caught his cruiser parked outside next to Chelsea’s car. To say I was furious was an understatement. I’d put up with his bullshit, and accepted the need for Chelsea to be in touch with him. He was her link to a past that she had very little recognition of, and a reminder of how strong and amazing both her mother and father were. But what I didn’t appreciate, was him doing something so stupid without me being able to be there when Chelsea broke down.
She was one of the strongest women I knew. She held her own, stood up for herself and for the people she fucking cared about. But her past still hung over her head. The pressure she was under knowing that soon she would be a mother was huge. I know she didn’t show it often, but I could see it in her eyes.
I had strong memories of my mom and dad. Sure, I’d lost them both, but they had raised me to be the man I was today. I knew what it was like to hear my mom scold me for talking back and fighting when I was in school. My father’s voice still echoed in my head every time I sat in Church, every time I had to make a decision that would affect my brothers and loved ones.
There were still people around me that talked about them like they’d seen them yesterday—my father’s bike was still sitting in the club garage for anytime I needed that connection to him.
