Page 57 of Devil's Dilemma

I stand, my head tilted, my brow creasing.Did Skull ever live with me? There’s hardly any evidence that he did. Based on what I see around me, he could have been a figment of my imagination.

I rub my stomach. “I don’t even have a photo of your daddy, baby.” Skull wasn’t into taking selfies, even with me and would always cover his face if I tried to take one of him, in the end I’d given up seeing how much it upset him. I think I’ll ask around at the club, someone must have one, even if he’s at the edge of a group shot. It pains me to think I could forget what he looked like.

I try to settle back into my old routine. The one I had before Skull. I go to work, do my job as best I can, then come home and force myself to eat a lonely meal for one. I try to convince myself I lived like this for years, it can’t be that difficult to slip back into old habits and return to the woman I was before Skull. But it’s hard, he changed me in so many ways. He might not have left much of himself behind, but the memories are there, and along with them, expectations. I can’t help but look up when I hear a loud engine noise or fool myself I hear his key in the lock. His voice echoes around the house, though I’m only hearing it in my head.

His ghost seems to haunt me, almost to the extent that I change my mind and return to the clubhouse, but my sensible head tells me I’ve got to face life alone sometime. It must be like an addict coming off the drug of their choice, at first impossible to see how they can make it through, but with the knowledge, in time, there’ll be light at the end of the tunnel, and less reliance on the crutch they used in the past.

Of course, Skull had left something behind, something that keeps me determined when I feel like giving up. His baby, now inside me, but part of him too.

So, I stick it out, getting used to the loneliness that had never been labelled that way before Skull, believing that’s the best thing to do.

In the evenings I get a call, from Vi or Jay, and even from Pyro too. Steph seems to be on the rotation as well. I smile, thinking they have probably arranged they’ll all keep in touch, but won’t overwhelm me with more than one call a day.

Tonight, it’s Pyro.

“How you doing Mel? You need anything?”

“No, Ro. I’m good.” He can’t see the tear I’ve just wiped from my eye.

There’s a pause as though he’s unused to social calls on the phone. Then, “Will you come to the clubhouse this weekend, Mel?”

“I’m going to Denver…” I’d come to realise it’s time I told the truth to my mom and dad.

“Good idea. I’ll drive you.”

It takes more than a few minutes to convince him I’m perfectly capable of driving myself, and no, I don’t need a prospect following me. In the end I promise to text him when I arrive at my parents, when I leave there and, when I get back home.

I set out early on Saturday. On the way I wondered how to approach the two difficult subjects I was going to have to broach. Which should I start with? In the end, it’s a simple enquiry about my health which makes one option flow naturally.

Mom and Dad take the news they are going to be grandparents in their stride, with a mixture of congratulations and concern. Mom asks a ton of questions about whether I’m eating well. I’m able to reassure her that I appear to be one of the lucky ones and, knock on wood, haven’t experienced morning sickness, or not as yet.

Of course, the conversation comes around to the father.

“Where’s Skull, Melissa?” Dad frowns. “Not happy he let you drive here alone. Do I need to get my shotgun out?”

My face falls as my father’s joke fails to have the effect he was going for. Then a tear starts to roll down my cheek, fast followed by another. My mom’s arms surround me, holding me close, murmuring words of comfort while Dad stands to one side, his face taut and set.

When I can finally speak, I pull away from her and try to explain. “It’s not what you think, Mom, Dad… he’s dead.”

“What the hell? Where? When? How? Oh, baby girl, come here.” Quickly I find myself in Mom’s arms again, and I sob harder into her chest, just like I had as a child. Only then it was over a broken toy, not a broken life and dreams which have died.

Their questions are so hard to answer.

“You should have told us before,” Mom says after I’ve tried my best. “We’d have come down to Pueblo, been there for you. I hate to think of you going through this alone.”

“And he didn’t know you were pregnant?” Dad waits for confirmation.

“No. Look, the situation’s terrible. It breaks my heart Dad, but the club has looked at this every which way, then the other as well. The only explanation that makes any sense is that somewhere, out there, waiting to be discovered is a body.”

I sob again, having had to put it so starkly.

“And they’re going on…?”

“His phone can’t be reached or traced. Cad thinks it’s most likely damaged.”As is its owner.“He’s not used his bank or credit cards, nor touched his bank account.”

Dad’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t ask how the club knows. “Have you reported him missing to the police?”

“Yes Dad, no sign of him. He’s not been arrested or turned up injured or dead.”

---