Page 36 of Tyrant

“You good?” Raiden walks by, worrying about me still.

“I’m fine.”

“Want to join us for cards?”

“That’s okay. I’ll just finish up washing and then I’ll dry and maybe head outside for a bit.”

“We might play chess then. It’s been a while.”

My dad actually perks up at that. We both notice the small smile at the corners of his lips. He doesn’t say a thing, but it’s there. In the face of the inevitable, small wins are all we have.

It doesn’t take Raiden long to get the old chess board out of the closet down the hall. The small one right beside the larger one for blankets and towels was always reserved for games. He gets it set up quickly and lets my dad play white because he always plays white. Raiden always preferred black anyway, even though you always move second. I think. I never liked chess even though Raiden offered literally probably ten thousand times to teach me.

I take my time finishing washing and drying, putting the kitchen back in order. I can’t pretend like I’m fifteen again and everything is still okay in my world, but for just these few minutes, the nostalgia takes hold of me.

When the sink is empty, I hang up the wet towel and watch Penny skip across the yard over to my mom. She bends down, says something, and then walks back to the house. I meet her at the door, pulling open the heavy glass slider because she won’t manage on her own. I expect her to tell me that my mom fell asleep. I’m already worrying over needing an extra blanket.

Penny takes my hand and that’s exactly what she tells me. “Grandma’s sleeping.”

I’m just glad that she can find a few peaceful, pain-free moments. They’re becoming increasingly rare.

Raiden abandons his game quickly and is at my side in an instant. “I’ll help carry her in.” He motions to Penny. “Want to take my spot? Grandpa can help you while I’m gone.”

I’ve never seen my daughter get so animated. She races to the table and sits down, so short in the big chair, studying the board, solemn and excited at the same time. It’s so good for her to be back here with all the family she should have had all along. A girl needs more than just her mom. She needs a protective, funny, amazing uncle, grandparents to adore and spoil her, and a father who would tear the world apart to keep her safe, even if he just met her.

We head out, a lump in my throat so big I can barely breathe. I’m glad Raiden doesn’t try to make conversation. He’s a few steps ahead of me and when he bends over my mom, I can tell that something is wrong.

He freezes and then his hand shoots out to her neck, and I just know.

“No!” I rush to the other side of the lounger and collapse on the grass, clutching my mom’s hand. Her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful, but she’s not breathing. She’s not sleeping. She’s gone. “No, Mom!” I clutch at her arm, my fingers grasping claws. “Raiden!” Screaming at him won’t help, but I do it anyway. “Raiden, please!”

He’s already on his phone, calling for an ambulance. I don’t know why, because it’s too late. But maybe that’s just protocol. What do I know? I thought we had time yet. Days. Weeks. Months. How could it be over already? How could she really be gone? The rational part of myself tells me that if there’s a way to go, this is it, but the irrational part of me is gulping for air with tears streaming down my cheeks.

I lift my head when I hear my dad’s choked yell. I see him on the deck, holding Penny. He knows too. He’s still stronger than I am. He swivels her around and picks her up and walks her straight back into the house so she can’t see. Not just her grandma gone, but her mom losing control.

Raiden’s voice comes from a distance, his instructions and words warped. I’m just so glad. So, so glad that I didn’t wait to make my peace. Whatever it cost me, I’m glad. I’m glad that I can hold my mom’s hand, still warm, in mine. I’m glad that I can be here with her, that I could be part of gifting her this backyard, her last wish, where she spent her final moments.

Life never happens like we expect it to.

I bow my head over my mom’s hand and sob gut wrenching cries that shake my whole body. It’s all I can do and I’m so thankful that my dad has Penny, and Raiden is working out the rest and not forcing me to get up and be strong. I’ll do that soon, for him and for Penny and for my dad and everyone else, but I need this time on my knees out here in the grass to say goodbye.

Chapter 15

Tyrant

Mabel’s funeral is small. The ceremony at the church was larger, but the actual gathering to lower the casket into the ground is just immediate family. Most of them have flown in, aunts and uncles I almost recognize, cousins of Raiden and Lark probably. There are a few little kids, three boys and two girls, dressed solemnly all in black and looking uncomfortable beside their parents. If I don’t know any of these people on a first name basis then these kids have never even met the woman they’re helping bury.

Biker funerals aren’t like this.

Bikers know how to live. They know how to die. I attended more than a few with my old man back when I was a kid, and I buried more brothers and friends than I’d like, as an adult. Some folks might consider it irreverent, the partying and celebrating that we do when a brother passes, but that’s our way of honoring a man that lived life to the fullest.

Thank fuck, I haven’t had to bury anyone’s old lady or god forbid, a child. We’re getting older. Life happens. It’s unfair. I don’t want to think about what that would be like. Fucking painful. Just like this.

I was the only one from the club at the ceremony and I’m the only one here in Hart’s small cemetery on the west side, standing on the periphery by a row of huge trees out of respect for Henry and Mabel. It doesn’t matter that they might have made their peace with how they felt about the club at the end,or at least with Raiden. I don’t want to be a bastard by trying to force my presence on anyone. The rest of Hart knows that I’m not here as the president of Satan’s Angels MC. I’m here as Gray Grand.

Just like the day I took Lark to prom, I got myself into a suit and cleaned myself up. Slicked my hair back, did the shiny shoes and tie and all, even though I hate the things. They’re little more than a noose, but maybe concentrating on getting choked out by your damn wardrobe is more fun than thinking about the pain everywhere else.

My bike is parked far, far down the block, out of sight of the family, but I also didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace.

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