The pounding echoed off of the interior walls as the front door's hinges quavered from the intensity of the impact. A sense of danger crept through the Black men as they were both interrupted from their father-son bonding in their living room over the Sunday afternoon games. Standing to his full height of 6'9", Jacob made his way to the door cautiously after the second assault, his father trailing precariously behind him. The scent that was emitting its way through the wooden, paint peeled door was not one familiar to him. It was an overbearing scent of liquor, smoke, and salt with an underlying scent of spices.
Opening the door, what he saw was unexpected. On his porch stood a short, tattooed, wild-haired, leather clad young woman with piercing, venomous eyes. In one hand she held a small shot gun that was placed securely in her grasp at her side and in the other was a picture held up to him, one that was of his father.
"I am looking for William Black, Chief of this reservation," her statement laced with obvious anger and determination.
"Who are you?" Jake asked, his eyes never leaving her shot gun.
"I'm his daughter."
I knew nothing of what I was doing, my actions left in the hands of Jose Cuervo, but I knew everything of how I felt, angry. It was the only emotion that coursed through me as I stared at the giant shirtless man before me. I've spent years thinking of the day I'd meet the sperm donor that helped create me, but not a second spent on what to do when I met him. So when the awestruck stranger stepped back, revealing the man I've spent months actually looking for, I did the only thing that came to mind.
Right between his eyes laid my aim, my index finger twitching near the trigger. It felt heavenly, my anger slowly dissolving as I drank in the fear in his eyes. That was cut short when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Dropping the picture and snatching the gun placed snuggly in the front of my pants, under my shirt, I aimed it at the other, who was condemned only by association.
"Don't move."
And there we stood, my eyes switching between the two, noticing as the seconds passed how similar they looked.
"Is this your son Black? My, my, what a litter you have. How many kids do you have, assuming you know?"
They continued to stare at me, bewilderment etched into their Quileute faces.
"Let's see. We'll start with him. That's one. With me makes two. My dead twin brother makes three…" I spat, only stopping because of the pain of remembering my situation.
They continued to stare, the son taking turns glancing between my weapons, my fingers around each trigger, my face, then his father; the other only at me.
"Wh-What do you want?" asked the son, not the father. His long lost daughter took the courtesy to take time to see him and the fucker just stares, rude.
"I am here to make sure what I was told was accurate. My mother stated that you, William Black, are my biological father. I came to see if that was correct, because like you Will she'd been around a couple of times. With that said, I will take a sample from you. We can make this simple or difficult."
What the fuck? Wha-Woah. No way. How…wow. All coherence left me when her words pierced my ears, all things I thought true wavering. She had just claimed to be my sister, my kin. This couldn't be. She seemed to be in her late teens, early twenties; definitely younger than Rachel and Rebecca. That could only mean that dad cheated on mom… No fucking possible way. She was fast, proven when I tried to sneak up on her only to be met with a 9mm to the face. Has she phased? No way.
"You there," she nodded towards me as she placed her 9mm back into its hiding place.
"Take this," she stated, seconds after pulling an envelope from the side of her boots, tossing it to me. "Swab the inside of his cheeks with those. No funny business," her small shot gun still aimed between my father's eyes. I did what I was told as quickly as possible, though my father, still in shock, was making it a bit difficult. I had to practically open his mouth for him to get the swab. Swabs done, sealed in the given zip locks, then placed in the original envelope I tossed it back to her.
"It was a pleasure to finally meet you pops," she stated winking and sneering at my still frozen father. She walked backwards, shot gun still aimed, off of the porch to her black on black SUV.
She stood barely five feet tall with tight dark mahogany brown curls that lay in a poof around her, settling below her bust. She had fierce light grey eyes, a defined nose and cheekbones, and pouty pink lips. Curves graced her figure that was dressed in black leather tights, black leather thigh high high-heeled boots and a black tank top. A half sleeved tattoo colorfully decorated the tanned skin of her right arm. She looked exactly like her the last time I saw her those twenty odd years ago. She looked exactly like Maria.
Placing her last blunt to her lips, she lit it.
She lit everything.
She let the unruly flames of the bonfire engulf all the pictures and files she had of him. Removing her dull eyes from the flame in front of her, she glared at her left hand realizing her grip around the bouquet of roses, thorns finding their way into her palm. Placing the lighter to it, it was the last thing to be burned. She watched in a trance as the dark red, almost black, roses burned down to the stems where finally she tossed it into the fire.
She inhaled from the blunt long and hard, staring at the waves ahead, lost in thought.
She should've known better. Coming here, proving he was her father, almost killing him, did not make her feel any better. It did not remove or even dull the ache of the loss of her twin brother and recently mother. She was now officially alone in this world, no one to love or confide in any longer. She'd finish her mother's last requests and leave this town and find a new life, one that was hopefully brighter.
She stayed there that night, on the beach in front of the flames, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a blunt in the other, while her vehicle in the distance blasted the only song that seemed to be made for her at that moment.