Ice Cream for One

Damon

“Do you see who you’ve invited into your bed, boy?! Who you’ve been fucking whenever you please? Your mother’s killer!”

I was a kid when my mom died.

It was a Friday. I had a spelling test that I didn’t do that well on, but mom wanted to celebrate the little bit I did.

She had her hair down. It was always long enough she could braid it down her back.

She asked me what I wanted to do.

I asked for ice cream. I was a goddamn kid.

I didn’t know.

Mom kept us as kids instead of knowing the hardcore shit we would end up doing.

Just rowdy boys. Her boys.

We had a brown Volkswagen. The wood grain panels on the side.

She would call it her ~cool bus~.

Dad would laugh and let her do whatever she wanted to it. I remember the hula girl on the dash. I remember her making tiny clothes for it.

I remember her dragging all of us out of the car when she saw a yard sale.

I remember the bags of doll clothes she would alter so she always had an outfit for the hula girl on the dash.

She called her Dana Doll.

She would put stickers of bows in her fake hair. She loved that thing.

We parked right out front of the Stone’s Mill Ice Cream shop.

I remember her clicking my seat belt off before I could. Her racing me out of the car and the way the other customers laughed when she picked me up and carried me like a baby so we could tie.

The light purple on the walls. The multicolor dash lines that were supposed to be sprinkles raining from the ceiling.

The white and black tiled floor.

The red velvet rope that showed where the line started and where it worked into.

I remember her tickling me and wetting my face with her mom-kiss that I hated.

I squirmed in her arms, I told her to put me down. That she was embarrassing me.

She didn’t. She held me through the line. Ordering her mint and cotton candy mix that I still think is gross as fuck.

I remember the guy making it up for us, asking what I wanted. How she held me tighter. Hiding my face from the store when she whispered. Asking me what I wanted.

I told her I wanted a chocolate milkshake with chocolate chips and chocolate sauce in it.

She told the guy my order.

Holding me like I wasn’t half her body. She held me like I was still nothing but a baby.

Not big enough to get down and stand on my own.

She paid, taking both and carrying us back to the fun bus.

She sat me in her lap as we ate our ice cream.

My back against the door panel, I told her about this episode of “The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy.”

How I liked Mandy.

How she would be my Luna.

I remember my mom laughing.

The sound of it.

Her face.

The glass shattering.

The rip of the seats as the bullet blew through it.

The pop of it hitting her.

How she slid to the side but her eyes didn’t close.

The hot blood that ran down her neck and covered her ear.

The golden hoops Gram gram gave her made the blood drip on her shoulder in a different place than where it was already running.

The confusion I had.

Her dark eyes.

Staring back at me like she was scared.

“Mom?”

Tires squealing off in the background.

I heard someone scream.

I heard the gasps and doors opening with the bell over the ice cream shop.

I remember putting my milkshake down in the space of the seat next to me. Taking my mom’s face in my hands and holding her up the best I could.

Looking at her.

She didn’t look like her anymore.

Her purple dress was turning black.

The seat under us getting stained by the blood running down her arm.

“Mom? Mom I don’t know what to do.”

I can see myself in her eyes.

I looked scared shitless.

I was a kid.

I was scared shitless.

The guy that made our ice cream knocked on the door.

He had a cellphone in his hand.

“Who do I call, little wolf?”

He held it out to me.

“My dad. I need my dad. I don’t know what to do. He will. He always does.”

The guy nodded, flipping his cellphone open and calling Dire Den.

The bar.

I held my mom’s face up.

She wasn’t blinking anymore.

“Which one are you?” The guy held the phone back out to me.

I didn’t take it. I needed to hold my mom.

“Damon Henley.”

The man looked at my mom.

I saw his face change.

“Yes, I have a Damon Henley here. The Luna has been hurt. She’s… He is fine.”

***

“Savannah isn’t her killer.”

My hands are torn the fuck up.

“What did you say to me, boy?”

My father grabs me by my cut and slams me back into the wall. My head hits the center beam. I fight back this time.

My first hit landing at the corner of his jaw, my second on his right eye.

My knee up, I make contact with his gut, my next hit blowing his nose out.

Red blood pours from it.

A hit again, and again.

My brothers lock me up, my uncles coming to cage me in.

Rogue wolf. That’s what I’ve done.

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see her!”

I fight against their hold.

“Savannah wasn’t there! Ellis wasn’t there! I was! Savannah didn’t kill mom. Mathias Barns pulled that trigger. He killed her!”

Daxon lets his grip slip. My left hand coming free, I land a hit on Uncle Leon that knocks him down in a dazed state.

His grasp is weakened, letting my body twist free of Uncle Lawrence who has me pinned back. I buck him off and get a knee up to crush Darrion in the nuts.

My right hand breaks free.

I get loose, charging for my dad.

His punch stings but not enough.

He wasn’t there.

He didn’t see her die.

None of them did.

Savannah is not my mom’s murderer.

Ellis Madis wasn’t there.

My brothers come for me again. My uncle going for my father.

The rest of the pack stand back to let us handle it. Only to step in when they get an active order.

“She is the reason!” my father gets out.

“No, she isn’t! You didn’t protect her!”

Everything stops.

I said it.

My father jerks out of my uncle’s hold. He straightens his cut. The shirt under it wipes his face.

The blood has soaked through.

My brothers let go of me.

I do the same thing as my father.

“Savannah didn’t kill her. My mom died because you thought you were untouchable. That has nothing to do with Savannah.”

My father looks disgusted with me.

He has never looked at me like that.

~It doesn’t matter. I’m right. He’s not.~

Savannah didn’t do that.

Her mom didn’t do that.

My father charges me, taking my cut and ripping it off me. Tossing me around until he gets it off.

He kicks my leg, making me go to my knee.

A slap across the face is followed up by him spitting in my eye.

“I banish you from this pack. You are not my son. Go to her, to your traitor bitch! Get out! Before I feed you to the wolves.”

Darrion and Dax loop their arms under mine, lifting me back to my feet, and get me out of the room.

“You have to go, Damon, make sure Savannah is out of town while we work damage control. Go get Grams out too. I don’t know what he is going to do.”

Dax hands me his gun, all the money in his wallet, and his knife.

I don’t have shit, everything is here.

“Go. Love you, brother.”

Darrion does the same.

~Gun, knife, money.~

“Love you, brother.”

They both walk off to guard the door.

~Grams, Savannah.~

~I’m coming.~