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He’d never even come close to sharing the story with anyone. Even the tattoo artist who’d done the ink had gotten a fake story. He didn’t really know how it was going to feel to share it.
Maybe he shouldn’t. He still had time to make something up. He didn’t want Sophia to be confronted with just how bad his past really was. With just how fucked up his heart really was.
But even as he considered lying to his babygirl, he knew he couldn’t do it. She had a right to know. That way, if she decided it was too much for her, she could just move on.
‘Isabella is my mom,’ he said. ‘Kyle… was my brother’s name.’
The tone in the room changed. The two of them had been so happy, so light-hearted. As soon as Wolf started to speak about his past, the light-heartedness was replaced with heaviness and sorrow.
‘My dad was a drunk. But he was more than that. He was a violent, cruel man. Growing up I didn’t really get that his behavior was abnormal. I didn’t really know that other dads didn’t hit their kids or their wives. I didn’t really get that dads spent time at home. I didn’t really get any of that stuff. It was just normal.’
Without meaning to, he’d started to stroke Porker’s soft fur.
‘You can’t have perspective as a kid,’ Sophia said. She came over and sat down next to him, cross-legged, looking up. He had her full attention. Fuck. When was the last time someone had really listened to him?
‘That’s so true,’ he said. ‘The only context I had for his behavior was his past behavior, if that makes sense? As time went on and I got older, he got worse and worse. I still remember the first time he slapped my momma’s face. It was a shock. But by the tenth time, I was numb to it. I used to sit with my mom while she lay on the floor, sobbing. I used to tell her it would be alright.’
He thought back to his mom’s face, streaked with black mascara tears and red round the eyes as he stroked her long blond hair. There was always the smell of cigarettes in those memories, because the first thing his dad always did after hurting his mom was light up.
‘I was wrong though. It wouldn’t be alright.’ Wolf squeezed his forehead, rubbed his eyes. ‘You know I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to anyone about this before,’ he said. ‘I’m afeelingsvirgin.’ He half-grinned, trying to undercut the atmosphere with a tasteless, unfunny joke.
‘I’ll be gentle,’ Sophia said, smiling weakly.
‘Time got to when I was big enough to try to fight off my dad,’ Wolf said. ‘I was never as big as him, of course. He’d spend all week out with his Nazi friends, then at the weekend he’d come home for a couple hours. He’d turn up, reeking of booze, angry about something or other, mouthing off about whatever hateful thing had set him off. Interracial marriage, or LGBT rights, or some other issue that he could be upset about. And inevitably, he’d blame my mom for it. The arguments were like storms, you know? I couldfeelthem building and building. I’d just wait for the first crack of lightning that would make the heavens open. And once they started, I couldn’t do anything to stop them — my only option was to weather them.’
Sophia stroked his shoulder. For a moment, Wolf felt bad — a Little shouldn’t have to listen to her Daddy complaining about his past. It was pathetic.
That’s just your dad talking, Wolf.
‘It sounds horrible.’
‘It wasn’t exactly a model childhood. Anyway, one day, when I was fourteen, my dad came home in a stinking mood. He was the Sergeant-at-arms for his MC, and he viewed himself as next in line as Prez.’
‘What’s a Sergeant-at-arms?’
‘They run security. Make sure that the club rules get enforced. Keep the peace. That kind of thing. Anyway, the Prez of his club died — drug overdose, of course — and there was an election to see who’d take over the mantle. My dad assumed it would be him, so when someone else got the job, he went loco.’
Wolf remembered that day so clearly. The way the sun had come through the curtains. The noise his dad’s hog had made as he parked it up. The sharp intake of breath that his mom took when the door swung open.
‘The one thing I don’t remember,’ Wolf said, ‘was what stupid, innocuous question my mom asked to set the whole thing off. But everything else is like crystal. He didn’t just knock her down,’ he said, the words catching in his throat. ‘He kept her down. He kicked her so hard, Sophia. In the face. In the stomach. I tried to stop him, but what could I do? I was fourteen.’
Sophia’s face was twisted into a mask of grief as she listened. Wolf couldn’t stop talking — he’d opened the flood gates and now the memories were crashing out, unstoppable as the tide.
‘I went to the kitchen while my mom screamed. I got a knife, waved it at him. No way I could ever have used it. He just laughed. Kept kicking. I lunged at him, and he grabbed my wrist, twisted it.’ Wolf rubbed at his hand, the memory still so fresh for him. ‘He didn’t stop until he saw the blood.’
‘Blood?’
‘Mom didn’t know that she was pregnant. My brother, Kyle — the only thing he ever knew of my father was the beating that ended his short life.’
He sat in silence for a moment. He’d kept this all inside him for so long, and it was so rare that he just sat with the feeling. Let himself feel that pain and sorrow.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sophia said, her voice full of anguish. ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.’
‘We all suffer,’ said Wolf, simply. He put his hand on hers. ‘I’m sorry to burden you with all this. It’s not fair that you have to deal—’
‘I want to deal with it,’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘I… want to be part of your life, Wolf. You’re my Daddy, right?’
