Chapter 23: Baggage

POV: Marta

Rat dropped me off at the house. I told him to send Phil with the truck in an hour to pick me up. He asked where I needed to go that required the van but I told him to mind his business. It was messed up to say since the Prospects had been so good to me but I couldn't risk him telling Juan Carlos. Either way it would hurt, if he knew and didn't come it would devastate me more. If he came just to say goodbye, it would be just as hard. The possibility of him stopping me was no longer an option. If it had, maybe I wouldn't be packing my "charming" life away. I wanted to leave with the last memory that I was lucky enough to obtain of his smile and laughter.

Juan Carlos had an old duffle bag in his closet. Dust covered and crumpled, I pulled it out. I didn't take much care in packing. Clothes were bunched up and tossed in. Part of me debated leaving them behind just because I knew he had some insight in the purchase. I had wanted to leave with nothing but I couldn't bear to leave so much behind. The tears began again. Since it had only been twenty minutes since my task began, I decided that a cold shower may wake me back up and harden my resolve. The cold water rained over me. The water and soap fell off my skin along with my warm tears. My fingers traced the scars along my arms, face, and abdomen. The scars I couldn't wash away were the hardest. Though time began to heal them, the ever present invisible wall between us blocked any way back to the redemption I sought in Juan Carlos' embrace. I turned the valve, dried, and preceded to my much soothing ritual. My sadist ritual was simple. I would wear whatever discarded shirts Juan Carlos put in the laundry basket. I would close my eyes and let my sense of smell take me back to our first days together. The smell of his cologne, the cigarettes he smoked, and even his sweat would transport me back. With my arms wrapped around me, I would fall asleep and fool myself into thinking he was laying next to me. This would be last indulgence as I remembered the first time I woke up in his bed with his work shirt on. His scent had gotten on me when he cradled me in his arms. His face nuzzled into my neck and his snores vibrated in my ear, how I missed that. Half asleep I heard the door open and close. The clock read 15 minutes to. Phil was early. My fingers trembled as I removed the crucifix from neck and I gently placed it on his dresser. I made sure everything in the room was in order before pulling on my jeans reluctantly and making my way down the staircase barefooted with the duffle bag dragging behind me.

POV: Juice

The letter burned in my hands accusingly. My head began to throb just thinking about her not being home. Though I avoided her, there were things I didn't let go of. She would cook and do my laundry; I didn't protest because it would give me insight to a glimpse of the life I had hoped to build with her. If she whimpered in her sleep, I would rush to her side and hold her until she would go limp and back into a deep sleep. It was the only time I allowed myself to be close. Just like the first time I heard her cry out in her sleep, my reaction remained my secret. It didn't feel right touching her after all the damage I had done. There are so many things I could have done differently. Miles had weighed heavily on my mind. Reflecting on it, only brought back my heart to heart with Chibs. I realized then how stupid I was and how easily my predicament with Roosevelt and Lincoln could have ended if I had just confided in Chibs from the beginning. Now here I am. I ignored Chibs again. The sense of relief I thought I felt a few minutes ago had died and now my anxiety kicked in. My hands trembled as I opened the envelope. Slowly, I pulled the letter out. I unfolded it. My eyes began to lose focus as the tears welled up. Quickly, I shoved the letter back in when I heard Tig and Chibs getting closer.

"Earth to Juicy boy! I've been calling you." Chibs smiled and looked down on me. Before I could answer, Tig was on top of the table snatching the envelope out of my hand. Chibs held me back as I tried to get it back. Tig laughed mockingly as he scanned it. His face went from a cheerful grin to a grimace.

"Sorry, Brother." He handed me back the letter. It crumbled in my hands and I shoved in in my cargo pants before mounting up and riding out. I needed to think. Here was not the place. It was a good fifteen minutes before I stopped. I pulled to the side. I took a seat on the hard pavement and opened her letter. I took a deep breath and began reading.

"Dear Juan Carlos,

First off, not matter what you may believe, I do not blame you. I feel like a broken record saying it. I love you, Juan Carlos. You'll be in my heart forever. I will try to only take the best memories of us with me. I wish I could truly be your Old Lady. I hear everyone around me call me that but I know those are just words. The way you've been with me these past months, I feel like I am living with a ghost. I hoped as I healed you would no longer fear touching me as if I was a porcelain doll you were afraid to break. Baby, I am broken. I have slowly been pieced back together but the part of me that I cannot glue back on my own is you. You are my heart and if I don't have you I am just a broken doll on a shelf gaining dust in a mechanic garage. I don't belong here anymore.

I hope you find the happiness and peace that I cannot give you. I free you of any obligation you undertook by bringing me to your home. You and the Sons have been good to me, my sister, and my family. I am truly grateful for that. But I'd be a fool to think that I can retain you when you cannot bear to be the same room with me. I do not see the light in your eyes or your silly smile. My hands cannot touch you and my words drive you away. I wish it could be different. I wish you could look at me the way you once did, hold me in your arms, and make love to me. What I wish and what is real are two very different things. This is the reality we are living in and it is time I put my feet firmly on the ground. I step forward with no regrets. Knowing you has been one of my greatest joys. Goodbye, Juan Carlos.

Te amo,

Marta"

The tears fell from my face. New droplets covered the letter in front of me. I could tell she had cried writing this by the way some words had the black ink distort them. I breathed in and swallowed hard as my hands covered up my face. What Gemma said was finally sinking in. I had used my guilt and fear to push her away and hurt her further. I was amazed by the way she could so easily forgive. She had said it so often when I tried to separate myself from her how much she loved me and how she didn't blame me. I didn't think it possible that someone could love so unconditionally other than my departed mother. Even the Club had its limits. When it came to me its limits edged on my ethnicity. She had tried so hard to heal not just for her but for us. I could not see her leaving my life but I could not see myself not continuing to carry this rock. It weighed heavily on my shoulders. I could feel it again, the noose around my neck. It was funny in a sickening way how my scar burned on my neck when I felt cornered. I tugged the collar of my shirt and found it harder to breathe. The noose that invisibly hung around my neck tighten as I tried to decide if it was best to let her go and start again or retain her without the guarantee that my demons would not snuff her out with this self-inflicted punishment. I didn't deserve her. She certainly didn't deserve what I was doing to her. I put the letter to my lips and kissed it. I whispered her name to myself, "Marta."