TYSON CAINE: Book 1 in the Brothers in Arms Series (Brothers in Arms Book 1) (14 page)

“What the hell happened to you, Thomas?” I ask my little brother who is sporting a nice shiner. I know he was sick earlier in the week, but I didn’t know about the black eye.

“Copped a ball in the eye at football practice,” Tommy tells me as he finishes his cereal.

“Well, shit man, you gotta learn to catch like the big boys, and it won’t hit your face,” I say teasing and roughing up his hair.

“Very funny,” he replies as he puts his bowl in the sink and gathers his bag for school.

The drive to school is quiet. “You still not feeling well, bro?” I ask him still concerned for his well-being, and now, he is more quiet than usual.

“Nah, I’m still feeling like crap,” he replies and then he gazes out the window.

I brush it off. Being sick definitely makes you feel lousy, and I give him his space.

****

That afternoon after school, I come home to change into my work clothes. I left Thomas at football practice, and Tyler is God knows where.

I’m rummaging through my closet, but I pause when I hear Mom crying. I walk down the hall into her room. Jimmy is outside in his shed because I can hear the hammer in action.
What the hell has happened now?

I think of the song “Better man” by Pearl Jam. Mom is in a marriage that is destructive, and she is trapped. How do you leave someone like him? I’ve heard him threaten her before with words like, “If you ever leave me, you will never see your kids again,” or “You will be alone forever with three kids to deal with.”

I hesitate at her door and slowly peer inside. I see my beautiful mother, with her copper-colored hair, her vibrant natural curls hang around her face as she sobs and whimpers through her tears.

“Mom,” I say softly trying not to startle her.

“Oh Tyson, I didn’t know you were home yet,” she says, wiping away her tears.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? What has Dad done now?” I ask her sincerely. There is something unsettling about seeing your own mother crying, the one who tends to us when we hurt ourselves, gives advice, and teaches.
To see her cry hurts my heart.

“Oh, it's nothing. I’m fine, just hormones, you know how it is,” she replies, and I can tell she is lying.

“Don’t lie to me, Mom. I know life with Jimmy is a nightmare.”  God, if I can’t talk openly with my mother, then something is wrong in the world.

The tears fall more frequent, and she closes her eyes. “Oh Tyson, I see no way out. I feel like I’m trapped inside a coffin, and there is no escape for me or you boys,” she admits to me as we hug tightly.

“You are not alone, Mom. We can do this together. The next time he leaves for the mines, we will pack up and go,” I tell her hoping once and for all we can be free.

“No, running is not the answer. I will figure it out. Please don’t worry yourself about it, Tyson. You have exams coming up and football,” Mom adds wiping away her tears, trying to be brave for me.

“You are my family. You come first,” I confess as she hugs me tighter. I hold her hopefully showing her I can keep her safe.
I’ll do anything in my power to keep her safe.

****

For the next few days, the vibe at home is not good at all. Dad doesn’t eat with us, and Thomas still isn’t one hundred percent, so he has gone to bed after dinner, two nights in a row.

“What’s going on?” Tyler questions me—he notices it too.

I shrug my shoulders. I need to figure out a plan, and then I will involve Tyler.

The next morning, Tommy avoids me. He is gone by the time I’m out of the shower, and now, it’s his turn to leave me a note.

Tyson

Catching a ride with Mack.

See you at school

Tom

I make my way out to the shed, I want to face Dad and see if he can give me some answers. “Hey, Dad,” I call out before I just walk in. He doesn’t answer me, so I walk slowly around the front of the shed door.

He has his boxing gloves on and is beating the crap out of the boxing bag. Like a crazy man, it’s hit after hit after hit.
Something is definitely up.
I back out quietly knowing he didn’t see or hear me and gather my gear and make my way to school.

“Hey, gorgeous,” I say to Brooklyn as we meet in the school parking lot. We kiss, and I pull her against me. Holding her in my arms makes everything else fade away—she is my breath of fresh air.
If only it could stay that way.

“What’s up, Ty?” she questions me as she pulls my chin down to look into my eyes. “Has something happened?” I’m sure my eyes are dark. We are very in tune with each other, so I should have known I couldn’t get this past her.

“Mom isn’t coping with Dad’s anger. I just don’t know how to help her,” I admit to her openly, just to tell her takes a tiny weight off my chest.

“Oh Ty, I know you want to fix things, but what can you do?” she responds, and I shrug my shoulders.
I can’t do anything right now.

That afternoon, I arrive home alone; the boys had better offers apparently.

“Hey, Tyson, how are you, son?” our friendly neighbor Judy asks me as I check our mailbox.

“Good, ma’am, and yourself?” I reply to her being cordial in return.

“I’m good, Tyson. I wasn’t intruding the other day—I heard the commotion and stuck my head out the door if your father asks. Okay?” I have no idea what the hell she is talking about.

I frown at her totally unsure what she means.

“How is Thomas? It must have left him with a few bruises,” she questions me sounding concerned.

“Oh yeah, the football gave him the black eye at practice,” I respond, realizing what she means. What a funny thing for her to say.

“Oh,” she responds, and I see her eyes well up.

“Judy, what is it? What is it you are not telling me?” I plead with her, feeling confused and a little anxious.
Did something happen with Dad and Thomas?

“Tyson, it’s not my place. I thought you were at home too. Look, I’ve said too much already. Maybe you should talk to your mom,” she replies, and I can tell she now looks very worried.

“Okay, I will,” I reply and have every intention of getting to the bottom of what happened.

I race inside, knowing that Mom leaves for work in an hour. I know we have a short amount of time. Dad’s truck is gone so that is a good thing.

“Mom, what the hell happened to Thomas?” I question her hoping for the truth.

Her face looks pale, and she stays silent.

“What did he tell you?” she asks me avoiding the question.

“He lied about a football to his eye,” I answer her. “I know that is not the truth, Mom. What really happened?” I plead with her to tell me. Mom lets out a long breath as we both sit on the couch.

“You have to promise not to overreact, Tyson,” she starts by telling me.
I can’t fucking promise that.

“Well, Thomas was suspended from school for fighting, then he was getting smart, so your father felt that he had to punish him,” she confesses to me, and I can see her lip quivering.

“So the black eye is from Dad? You mean he hit Thomas?” I ask her feeling sick to my stomach. I’m confused and in shock. He is fucking fourteen years old and our father struck him in the face?

“Look, Tyson, you know what your dad is like. I couldn’t stop him. I was able to treat Tom’s wounds, and he slept for a few days,” Mom admits to me, and all I hear is ‘wounds.’

“What do you mean wounds? The black eye isn’t all he did? Seriously, Mom, he is out of control. Who the hell does that to his son?” I exclaim, now angry, frustrated, and ready to explode.

Honestly, I’m beyond pissed Dad hit Tommy. I don’t need any of the other details as the why doesn’t matter to me.
What kind of sick and twisted man hits his fourteen-year-old son?

I knew he hit Tyler. I hated when he did it, but God, I had no control over it because he’s almost seventeen. None of it ever sat well with me, but fuck, this is unforgivable. Maybe I will give him a nice shiner to match Tommy’s.
I’m shaking I’m so furious.

Dad left for the mines before I could confront him. Part of me is grateful, but the other half wants to blow this man to smithereens.

“Hey, Tommy. I know about what happened with Dad,” I disclose to my little brother when it’s just the two of us.
He needs to know that I’m here for him no matter what.

He looks at me with widened eyes and then jerks his head back and looks away. My poor little brother—I feel like I let him down.
I’m supposed to be looking out for him and protecting him.

“Tyson, please don’t tell Tyler. It will only make it worse. I was suspended for fighting—I deserved it,” he says looking scared, knowing how Tyler would react.

“Don’t you dare think that you deserved it, Thomas. No one ever deserves to be beaten. Please erase that thought from your mind. Your father, of all people, should never hit you the way he did,” I declare, feeling frustrated that he could believe that is true.

I gaze at my clean-cut and robust little brother and see his eyes have welled up. I can’t remember the last time I saw Thomas cry.
I supportively put my hand on his shoulder.

“It will be okay, Tom. I promise he will never lay another finger on you.” I mean it with every breath I take.

I affectionately hug Tommy trying to show him just how much he means to me. He flinches in pain. “Ouch,” he whispers, and his eyes find mine with worry.

“Show me what else he did to you,” I exclaim. I thought the damn eye was bad enough but knowing there are more injuries has me furious.

“It’s nothing,” he says looking away.

I walk over to him and slowly lift up his t-shirt.

Oh my fucking God.

“Jesus Christ, Thomas! This is unforgivable. You will have scars from those welts. Fuck, I hate that he did this to you,” I scream this time not caring who hears. This is worse than I first thought. Tyler needs to know and see these marks.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, but I can’t keep this from Tyler. Dad can’t get away with this. As brothers, we need to stand up to him together. I promise you it will all work out,” I tell him confidently.
If only I could feel as convinced on the inside.

****

Tyler is home for the night, so the three of us have dinner together since Mom is at work and Dad is away. Mom has outdone herself making homemade chicken soup. It is absolutely delicious and a favorite dish of mine.
If Mom keeps cooking meals like this, I will never move away from home.

I look at Thomas, letting him know I’m about to tell Tyler. He shakes his head looking pained. Yeah, sure, Tyler is going to lose it, but I’m not keeping it from him any longer.
Secrets tear families apart.

“Tyler, Tom and I need to tell you something,” I say as we finish the last of our dinner.

“What the hell is going on? You guys have been acting weird for days,” he replies looking back and forth between us both.

Thomas speaks first. “I got suspended from school for fighting. Marco tripped me so I was defending myself,” he tells Tyler starting from the beginning.

“It’s your first offense. I can’t believe they suspended you for that,” Tyler responds angrily.

“There’s more, Tyler,” I add trying to ease him into the news that is going to make him explode.

“I didn’t get my black eye from football like I said,” Thomas admits to him.

“You have to learn to duck those punches, Tom. I’ll teach you,” Tyler answers in his typical fashion.

“It wasn’t Marco either,” he adds as he looks down avoiding eye contact.

I see Tyler’s eyes look from Tom to me, his brain is ticking over.

“Who the hell caused the black eye, Thomas?” he questions now standing and looking pissed. “Jimmy? Did our dad fucking hit you?” he asks him as he puts two and two together, and I see his fingers squeeze into a fist.

Thomas nods, looking pale, waiting for the reaction.

“That son of a bitch. How dare he?” Tyler yells looking ready to punch something,

“Look, Tyler, we need a plan. There is no reason to lose our cool, and I’m just as pissed as you are,” I say to him trying to prevent a hole in the wall.

“Fuck a plan! He needs a black eye to match Tom’s, maybe a few broken ribs, broken jaw, and nose. Maybe a serving of his own medicine will teach him a lesson,” Tyler shouts furiously.

“You need to know everything, Tyler. Show him your back, Tommy,” I say to him as Tom turns around and lifts his shirt up. The red and swollen welts have started to scab, and they run the length of his back—there must be ten in total. The sight of them still makes me cringe.

What kind of a human being does that?

“Fucking hell!” Tyler shouts, looking furious. “I’m so fucking pissed. I want him hurting like you are, Tommy. I’m so sorry we didn’t protect you from that animal,” he says, now looking forlorn and disappointed.

“You and Tyson are always protecting me. This time, none of us saw it coming,” he replies and attempts to fist bump Tyler. Reluctantly, Tyler bumps him back.

“He will pay for this, Tom,” Tyler promises, and I know he means it.
Moral of the story is if you mess with our little brother, you mess with us—even if your name is Jimmy Caine.

****

We have made a pact to keep closed lipped for the last week, but it’s been so hard. Especially, Tyler, he wants the world to know that our father is a monster. He has been hitting the gym pretty hard all week burning off his frustrations.

A week later, Dad unexpectedly returns home. I wonder why he is back so soon—usually, he’s gone fourteen to twenty-one days. He goes straight to bed on the first day, so I’m assuming he is sick, and I’m not going to abuse a sick man no matter how much I want to.

He is sleeping more than usual, avoiding conflict and meals.
Maybe the rum has finally caught up with him.

Mom has been fussing over him more than usual. It makes me think he is home for another reason, but I’m still not feeling sorry for him.

I give him a couple of days before I can’t bite my tongue anymore. I’ve made Tyler stay out for two nights; it’s not going to end well when the altercation occurs. Honestly, I don’t feel like I ever want to talk to him ever again.
He might as well be dead to me.

****

“Jimmy, you really shouldn’t be going out to the shed. You need to be resting,” Mom says to Dad as he puts on his work boots the next morning. It’s Saturday, so we are all home and chilling; the morning has been relaxed for a change.

“What good am I as a man if I can’t work out in the shed getting my hands dirty?” he replies angrily then storms off out the back.

Twenty minutes later, the hammer is pounding into timber, then the buzzing of the drill. I hear my name from inside the house, so I wander to the back door. “Tyson, come and hold this metal rod,” Dad calls out to me.
I can’t flat-out refuse or say no, so I oblige and help him with the rod.

I hold the rod in place but don’t look in Dad’s direction. Sometimes, I wish I was more outspoken like Tyler, then I could say what I’m thinking.

“Dad, can I go over to Chuck’s house?” Tommy asks him as he slowly walks toward us. It must be hard for him to speak to him after what he did.

“No one is going anywhere. You either have chores or homework,” he states sharply.

“I’ve been on top of my homework; I only have five math questions left. Can I finish the rest tomorrow?” he pleads.

“No, you will do it now,” Dad screams, and I see Tommy jump, fear evident in his eyes. Dad aggressively throws down the rod and pieces of timber and heads over to Thomas.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” I shout out loudly protecting my brother.
I’ll be damned if I’ll let him fucking touch Thomas ever again.

“Or what? You going to stop me?” Dad calls back in his arrogant and condescending tone.

“Yes, I will stop you! This time, Tommy has someone around to prevent you from beating him again,” I reply, letting him know that I know about last time.

I feel his presence before I see him. “You will need to go through both of us before we ever let you lay a hand on him again,” Tyler chimes in as he enters and stands next to me.

I get goose bumps—we have never stood up to Dad like this before.

He should know better than to mess with us. He brought us up to protect each other. In his words, brothers are blood, and you don’t let anything come between that.

I see the anger in Dad’s face. The fury is boiling, and he never expected us all to challenge him. I had so much respect for Dad. I looked up to him, and I felt proud of him because he worked so hard for us, for our family.
All of that is now gone.

“You will never touch Thomas again, do you hear me?” I say to him courageously. Even though I might be the one to get my ass whipped, I would protect my younger brother from anyone trying to hurt him, even our own damn father.

“How dare you!” he screams back fiercely. “I’ve raised the three of you, worked my fingers to the bone, almost killed myself to provide for this family, and this is the thanks I get?” he yells as his face turns red and his eyes widen with rage.

No way, he doesn’t get to say those lies.

“Yes, you work hard, and yes, you helped raise us, but you have never been a real father,” I declare. “A real father doesn’t beat his kids until they bleed, call them names, or belittle them. We are treated like vermin while you drink away your sorrow. A real man doesn’t verbally abuse his wife, threaten her, or tear her confidence down,” I confess to him that he has a lot of bad habits.

“All of these years I stuck up for you. I defended you, Jimmy Caine, but when you hit Thomas, I lost all respect for you. You are nothing to me anymore,” I declare, and I can’t believe I actually said it.

“You ungrateful boys,” he screams as he erupts and explodes with anger. He furiously charges toward me, knocking me to the ground with a thud.
I’m stunned that he actually tackled me.

“Go ahead and beat me to a pulp, if it makes you feel better about yourself,” I say through the tackle. I won’t let him win.
Yes, he can hit me, but mentally, I win.

“Poor Jimmy Caine grew up in foster homes.” Something inside me has been unleashed, and I can’t control my words.
He needs to know what he has done is wrong!

“Well, you know what? You have treated your own flesh and blood just as badly as you were treated—you took out your anger on us,” I add telling him exactly how I feel. “That poor innocent child that you were … you know how bad you felt being shunned, an outcast, and hit by your foster parents yet you treat us the exact same way,” I exclaim. I just can’t understand why he would do that.

“People learn from their mistakes, yet you have made a mountain of mistakes as a father. I’m talking to you, Jimmy Caine, and it’s time you took all of the responsibility. We are good kids. You are a worthless old has-been,” I scream to finish off my portrayal of the man I once felt proud to have as my father.

With those last words, I wait for the hits to come, but instead, Dad shakes his head in disbelief.
He finally looks beaten down. The truth has hit him hard, and he is finally listening to the way we see him. He takes a deep breath, turns, and walks slowly out of the shed and further down the yard.

Now, I’m a little worried.
Does he have a gun hidden somewhere? Would he use it? I have no idea—seriously, this man is a stranger to me. He picks up the axe and starts chopping firewood.
I am totally on edge.

“I think we should get outta here, bro,” Tyler says to me looking concerned.

“Yeah, I think you are right,” I respond looking at Thomas.

Then we hear a loud deep shriek coming from Dad, followed by a yelp. We turn to see him in a heap on the ground, he’s not moving, and his left hand is on his chest like I saw the day he was climbing down the ladder.

“Dad?” I call out to him, and he doesn’t move or respond.

“Tyler, you gotta call an ambulance,” I say as I make my way closer to check on him. Tyler gets out his phone and dials 911.

Jimmy’s eyes are wide open. Fuck me. He’s dead. Dad is dead. I reach down to feel his pulse just to confirm. Nothing.