Page 71 of Brutal for It
“That’s the point,” Doll says. “You deserve it all.”
The next two hours feel like something out of a dream I didn’t know I was allowed to have.
They ask about baby names. Doll swears if it really is a girl, she’s teaching her how to throw a punch before preschool. Doll isn’t convinced it’s a girl. Since Sass had four boys, she swears it’s in the Oleander water to only have boys. Since I’ve been sharing water with Tommy, it must be a boy. Sass jokes she’ll teach her how to charm her way out of chore and speeding tickets instead.
They give me gifts, tiny onesies, handmade blankets, a stuffed bear wearing a mini leather cut that says Hellion.
“This one’s from Tommy,” Sass says softly, handing me a small box.
Inside is a silver locket. I open it, expecting a picture. Instead, there’s a small piece of folded paper.
I unfold it slowly.
You saved me too. —T.
That’s all it says, and that’s all it needs to.
My tears start again, unstoppable. Doll laughs and hands me a tissue. “Hormones, honey. Get used to it.”
But it’s more than hormones. It’s gratitude. It’s love. It’s the realization that I’m not alone anymore. I’m not trapped in my past.
Later, when the laughter quiets and the music turns low, Sass sits beside me. Her presence feels like calm air after a storm.
“You okay, sweetheart?” she asks.
“I don’t even know how to explain it,” I share. “I’ve never had something like this before. People… showing up. Not because they have to, but because they want to.”
She smiles. “That’s the beauty of family. The one you’re born into, and the one you build.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever have that.”
She gives me a soft smile. “Sometimes it just takes walking through hell to see who’s waiting on the other side.”
Her words hit deep. I think of my sister, of Tommy, of these women who’ve taken me in without hesitation.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to thank us. You just have to keep standing.”
Music plays as the men begin to trickle in. A few of the women dance on the open floor with the jukebox playing old rock songs. Someone starts passing around a scrapbook — photos from weddings, babies, club barbecues. They add my name to a blank page near the back.
“Your story’s just starting,” Doll shares, scribbling Jami & Baby Oleander in looping letters.
The words make my heart ache in the best way.
When Tommy finally arrives near the end of the night, the women part like a tide to let him through. He looks around, eyebrows raised.
“What’d you do to the clubhouse?” he jokes, grinning.
“Decorated,” Doll remarks proudly. “And we didn’t break a thing, thank you very much.”
He finds me in the crowd, and the look in his eyes steals the air right out of me — soft, steady, home.
He crouches beside my chair, taking my hand. “You have fun?”
I nod, still overwhelmed. “You knew?”
“Maybe,” he replies with a grin. “Might’ve been some planning behind my ‘club meeting’ excuse.”
