Page 7 of Deserter

“Are we here?” I yawned.

She pressed her lips into a flat line before nodding. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

I carried the small suitcase into our room once she checked us in and sat on the end of the small bed, kicking my shoes onto the bright orange carpet. “Why did we leave, Ma?”

She pulled her prayer candles from the suitcase and set them on top of the wooden nightstand, taking the time to light them before answering. “It’s safer for us here right now, Jamie. There are things happening inside the club right now and we just can’t go back.”

With that, she added the Immaculate Heart of Mary figurine to the candles and knelt with her Rosary beads. “You’re welcome to join me or sleep. I know it’s very late for you.”

I stifled a yawn and sank down beside her as she recited her Hail Marys. Instead of going into the Litany of Mary, she began praying to a saint we’d never called upon before. “Saint Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. You are a fighter… please fight for us now.”

I looked up and watched as tears streaked down her face while she clutched the beads so tightly, I was sure her hand would bleed.

I didn’t know what to do or say, so I just sat beside her, repeating the prayer to Saint Michael over and over in my head. If Ma felt we needed protecting, then I’d do everything in my power to keep her safe.

When she cried out, I almost jumped out of my skin. “Ma?”

Her body curled forward toward the carpet and she held herself up with her hands. “No, no, no,” she moaned.

I helped her to her feet, and she immediately doubled over in pain again. “Jamie,” she panted. “Just get some sleep. I’ll just—I’ll be in the bathroom.” She winced and took two steps before dropping to her knees.

“Ma, you need my help. Please let me help you. Are you sick? Do you need medicine? I could drive you to a doctor!” I was only ten, but I would figure it out if it would make her feel better. I looped an arm around her shoulders and tried to get her to her feet, but she screamed out again and sank to the carpet before crawling toward the small bathroom.

Sweat began to bead on her brow and she stripped her red turtleneck sweater off with a growl. “Jamie, close this door and do not come in under any circumstances, do you understand me?”

I stared in horror at the black and purple bruises covering her chest and upper part of her stomach. “Ma? Did he do this to you?”

More tears fell as she closed her eyes. “Listen to me, James Quinn. Close this door and do not come in. Yes, ma’am?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reluctantly agreed as she bent in half with a low groan again. I closed the door and sat down at the foot of the bed, feeling more helpless than I had in my entire life.

Ma’s cries of pain grew louder until I couldn’t stand it any longer and picked up the handset on the nightstand, dialing a number I’d come to memorize.

The Mary figurine watched me from beside the candles and I glared at her while the phone rang. “You were supposed to keep her safe,” I snapped before roughly wiping my eyes.

* * *

“Where is she?” Angel stepped around me and into the motel room.

I pointed toward the closed bathroom door. “In there, but she said not—”

He threw the door open. “Jesus Christ! Mary, baby, open your eyes!”

I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I walked closer to the open door, anxious to see my mother. What I saw instead was blood. My mother was leaned against the side of the bathtub, her blonde hair soaking wet, like she’d just gotten out of the shower. Her plaid skirt was bunched up around her waist and the bottom of it was covered in bright red blood.

I searched her face and arms, but I couldn’t see any cuts. I wondered if maybe she’d fallen and hit her head while I was waiting outside for Angel. The thought and sight of her in so much pain made me feel sick to my stomach.

He ran a towel under the faucet and pressed it to her cheek, causing her to jolt awake with a moan.

“Charlie? No, you can’t be here,” she wept against his chest before sitting up with another cry of pain. I watched in horror as bloody fluid gushed from between her legs onto the tile, spreading toward him.

Angel didn’t run out or get angry with her for making a mess on his motorcycle boots, he just rocked her in his arms with the towel pressed to her forehead. “I’m here now, baby. I’ve got you.”

Ma sobbed and gripped his vest in her hands as the pain twisted her body in half, forcing her eyes closed again. “Charlie, I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t understand why she kept calling Angel the name Charlie or why he hadn’t bothered to correct her.

They were good friends, weren’t they?

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