Page 114 of The Vows We Keep
Whenever I’d woken up in a sweat, I’d taken a deep breath, drunk some water, and blown it off. Until I found I couldn’t bring myself to put my leg over the seat of my new bike.
Admitting it to Cat was hard.
She suggested I get used to it in stages. Just sitting on it without even starting it.
She also encouraged me to talk with Rae, who I still meet every Wednesday without fail. We’ve never missed a session, even when I called her a cunt one day because she pushed me too hard. Instead, the following week, she met me with a behavioral code of conduct. I signed it and then gave her a pretty notebook I ordered online that had Shakespeare quotes weaving through it. We never mentioned it again.
I’ve learned through research that it’s really hard to be a therapist to someone with ASPD. Our deactivated attachment systems mean we have a strong belief we don’t need anybody. And there are times when I still fall back into utterly believing that. Sometimes, old patterns of arrogance and impulsivity return. But some days, I can really tune into how the person I’m spending time with is feeling, and it feels like a little bit of witchcraft.
This is my life, and I’m starting to make sense of it.
Apparently ASPD symptoms ease in your forties for reasons no one can actually explain. Which means I’ve got at least another decade, maybe a decade and a half, of this level of symptoms, and I want my relationship with Cat and the club to survive it, so therapy it is.
I still won’t journal though.
“You’re doing great. Even the doctors said you were doing amazing,” Cat says, squeezing my hand.
“Thanks to you,” I say.
“And Bates.”
Yeah. My best friend totally stepped up. Came and kept me company when I was stuck with my leg up. And after I admitted my issues with the bike and my nightmares, he came around and sat on his bike next to mine while we chatted. Then it started to feel a bit like old times. And on the day I finally felt like turning the engine on, he fucking cheered.
But no one has been there for me the way Cat has.
We’re finally getting some excitement in our sex lives again, because a full leg cast seriously limits your options. But the best thing to come out of this has been getting to truly know each other.
When Perrito and the rest of the Los Reyes men didn’t return to the Barstow clubhouse, the men guarding Neva finally gave up and let her go. She came with Catalina’s mom to visit four weeks ago. We didn’t tell them what happened, even though Neva insisted we must know something about the club. Her father was still part of Los Reyes after all.
But she reassured me that if I was the reason he hadn’t returned to the club, she was grateful. The man had effectively given her to Mateo with his blessing to beat the shit out of her.
King and Vex wave me over, and I walk to them, not letting go of Catalina’s hand.
“I got what you asked me for,” Vex says. He taps something into his phone, then my phone vibrates in my pocket.
When I open what he sent me, I feel remarkably calm. An address I’ve been looking for. My mom now lives in the Bronx. Not a million miles away. I’ve decided I’m going to do the work to convince her to talk to me. When it comes to blood family, we’re all we’ve got. Rae is helping me prepare for it. Giving me words and shit I wouldn’t come up with on my own. And helping me prepare for the possibility of her not wanting anything to do with me.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I’m thinking of taking a ride upstate. Everyone’s favorite Irish mobster has a business proposal for us,” King says, meaning Iris’s uncle, Cillian. “You feel like doing the ride with me?”
“Fuck, yeah. I do. I’m ready,” I say.
But I’m not. Not fully. I’ll probably be exhausted and sore by the time I get there and back. But I want to start putting the final piece of my life back together.
King eyes me carefully, as if he can read my thoughts. “We’ll take it steady, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I think about the road to New York. Which makes me think about how gas stations get made. And—
Stay present.
Stopping the thought train is progress.
Spark hands me a beer and offers one to Catalina, and suddenly I’m inspired. “Hey, can I have a minute?” I shout.
King whistles to get attention. I look around the lot. Everyone is here. All my brothers, all the old ladies, even the club girls. With everyone’s eyes on me, I feel like a dick, but I push through.
