Page 91 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

Every single one drags by like a punishment—one I don’t understand.

I think about calling Fiona and asking for her help, but how many times can I beg him to listen to me, to love me?

My emotions are all over the place. I swing from anger to agonizing desolation to irritation to rage to absolute despair.

I fight a depression so deep and so dark I’m sure it will swallow me whole.

Getting up every morning, I force myself to go to class, because my father expects it, but I don’t pay attention, and I don’t do the work. I fail tests and miss assignments. And I don’t care at all. Some days I just sit on the quad and stare at the sky, wondering if those same clouds float over Rafe somewhere out there. Wondering what he’s doing and wondering who he’s doing it with takes up a lot of my time these days.

My ears perk up every time I hear the roar of a motorcycle. I turn to look, but it’s never him; it's never even one of his club brothers.

After almost six weeks, I decide I have to have answers, even if he’s blown me off, even if he’s moved on. The least I deserve is an explanation.

I take my car and drive around, trying to remember where his clubhouse is, but I was so wrapped up in enjoying being on the bike with him that I didn’t pay attention to the route. After ending up in one after another dead-end industrial park, I give up.

I try to find where Kyle’s house was, thinking maybe I would remember the way to Rafe’s place from there. It wasn’t far, but I can’t remember either one.

All I end up doing is getting lost.

I pull over and, in desperation, I text his sister, Fiona.

ME: I need your help again. I need to talk to Rafe, and he won’t respond.

I wait five minutes, then ten, then fifteen, and she doesn’t reply.

Punching in her number, I press it to my ear, but it rings and rings and then the call drops.

Maybe she’s busy. Maybe she’s in the movie theater. Maybe she’s silenced her phone. But I can’t stop the other explanations from flooding my brain. Maybe she’s siding with her brother. Maybe she’s pissed at me, too.

Defeated, I head home.

At a stoplight, three riders pull up in the lane next to mine. They’re all riding sport bikes and wearing full-faced helmets. They glance over at me, and the closest one waves. I can’t see his face, but I notice his tattoos, and a thought comes to me as the light changes, and they ride away.

Tattoos. TJ’s ol’ lady had a tattoo shop. God, what was it called? I rack my brain, but I can’t remember. Maybe if I can track it down, I can get a way to get a message to Rafe.

It gives me a sliver of hope.

When I pull up the drive, past the closed mill, I wonder what my father is going to do. With the insurance money, he cleared the site of debris, but he hasn’t started to rebuild, and I’m not sure he ever will. In a way, he seems defeated, too.

We barely speak anymore, and it's like I destroyed his trust in me.

I love my father, but I barely have the energy to deal with fixing what’s broken between us. Lately, I don’t have the energy for anything.

Alex hasn’t returned since the day I slapped him. I’m relieved he’s gone, and I hope he stays gone, but I can’t helpwondering if he’s truly done with me and my father, or if he’s only biding his time.

I trudge up the stairs and collapse on my bed, then begin searching for local tattoo shops. My hope dims when I pull up over thirty of them in the San Jose area. I grab a piece of paper and start making a list. The only way I know to proceed is to go to every single one until I find Gigi.

Setting the list on my nightstand, I shut my eyes, and I’m soon pulled under by total exhaustion.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rafe—

“How much more you got to do on this old car?” I ask my father.

“This is the last thing. I’m fixing the passenger side window. It went down and won’t go back up. It’s a common problem on these old corvettes.”

“You’ve been working on this thing for weeks, Dad. I told you… Fiona said all Mom really wants is for you to spend time with her. She doesn’t care about this shit.”

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