Unsung Heroes

Ash pulled me through the kitchen, barely giving me time to grab a tissue to dab my eyes and blow my nose before he pulled me back into the very large living area, where the majority of his relatives had sprawled out. Some of his relatives, like Ash, were covered in tattoos and were wearing bike leathers, and I immediately recognized the influence, including the aunt that clearly was the one that gave Ash his first tats and got him really into it. At that moment, just briefly, I wished I wasn’t pregnant so I could pull my bike out of storage and ride her again. I miss my bike.
The kids I’d seen running around and clamoring over Ash were sitting in a circle around a TV, arguing about what movie they wanted to put in.
When Ash pulled me in, the room didn’t go dead, but it definitely quieted down considerably as Ash pulled me toward an armchair and then pulled me sideway, facing his family so that he could cuddle under my chin and wrap his arms protectively around my stomach and gently massage the underside, where the most weight was being held.
“So, Ash,” a voice said.
I turned slightly to see one of Ash’s larger relatives, maybe an uncle, who looked like the most stereotypical biker you can think of, including a mostly shaved head, long mustache, gruff demeanor, bandana wrapped around his brow, a sleeveless leather vest, and large build.
“Yeah, Uncle Vic?” Ash said, pulling out from under my chin slightly.
“Tomorrow, me and the guys are gonna take the bikes out to the desert and do some riding, you in?”
Ash nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”
I groaned slightly, now really wishing I had my bike, and let my head drop back slightly.
“You okay?” Ash looked up at me.
“Yeah, now I just kind of wish the baby was born already because I miss riding,” I half-whined. “Only getting to be in cars sucks.”
The guy, Uncle Vic, raised an eyebrow. “You ride?”
I nodded. “Yeah, before I got pregnant I only rode my bike, I didn’t even own a car. When I got pregnant, I started driving Ash’s car everywhere since I can’t ride, and even if I tried, Ash would strap me down to keep me from doing it.”
“What kind of bike you got?”
“Black Harley low-rider.”
His clearly biker relatives turned more to me in interest.
“Where are you from, exactly?” The aunt Ash had told me about asked. “You don’t hear too many people with that accent around here.”
I smiled internally at the repetition of phrase. Must be a commonality with Ash’s relatives.
“I was born in California, but my parents are from Brazil. They died when I was about five so my grandparents brought me to Rio and I lived there for ten years until I emancipated myself and moved back to California.”
His grandmother raised an eyebrow. “Your grandparents raised you, too?”
I nodded. “Yes, Gran. They raised me until I was sixteen, and then I got the hell out of there.”
“Why would you do that?” His grandfather leaned forward.
I found myself pulling back slightly. I didn’t want to air my dirty laundry in front of all of Ash’s relatives.
Seeming to recognize this, his Gran suddenly stood. “If the kids want to follow me, I have some fresh rolls that I need tasters for.”
The kids followed her into the kitchen, and I relaxed against Ash, reaching around his shoulder to hold myself onto him a bit better and I played with a piece of his hair.
I agreed with Ash that I needed to explain to his grandparents my situation, but I wanted it to be on my terms without all of his relatives present.
Adjusting myself on Ash’s lap, I cupped my belly and rose as carefully as I could from his lap, groaning slightly under the weight, and following Gran into the kitchen, ducked just out of the way as the kids ran by, fresh rolls clutched in their hands.
I leaned against the counter as she placed more rolls into a basket on the counter.
“Dear, is it alright if I ask you what happened earlier?” She said carefully, wiping her hands on her pants and then turning to the stove to stir something in a pot.
I bit my lower lip. “Did Ashley tell you anything about my family life in Brazil?”
She shook her head. “No, he didn’t want to tell me your business. All he said was that it wasn’t easy for you.”
I nodded. “Well, after my parents died, my grandparents brought me to Rio. They were unbelievably strict and controlling and manipulative, from my friends to my clothes to my music. They’re incredibly religious and expected me to be very much the same way, controlling my sense of right and wrong and what is true and untrue. I emancipated myself to go back to California and use the money my parents left me and I lived in the house they left me and went to high school in California. Due to the relationship I have with my family, it’s very hard for me to trust people, and Ash is the first person in a long time that I’ve trusted in the way I do. I don’t trust easy at all, and when you were so kind of me and accepting of me, it was too much for me.”
She stood there quietly and watched me while a tried to not blubber my life story at her feet.
“Please don’t take offense in me walking away when you told me you were okay with me and Ash. It was just a little much to take in when my own grandmother told me to ‘not bring my bastard child’ around her.”
I suddenly found myself in a tight embrace by someone much shorter than me. I looked down in surprise to see Gran hugging me to her tightly, her eyes shut firmly.
“I am sorry you had to experience that in your life. It makes me sad to think a sweet girl like you had to experience something like that, so please, don’t feel bad for having some sort of connection between both of us. I hope it will separate with time, especially since as soon as you tell me the baby’s due date, my husband and are flying out to be there when it’s born!”
Feeling my face get hot and my jaw tremble, I tongued my lip piercing as I tried to hold back sobs to no avail. I found myself tightly wrapping my arms around her tiny shoulders and collapsing slightly onto her while trying to keep myself together.
“If you want a minute to collect yourself, you can splash your face with some cold water, and then take your time before you come back out. I know it would worry my Ash to see you in tears like this, even if it’s out of genuine sadness or hormones. I’m glad you confided in me, dear.”
I pulled back and wiped my tears on the back of my hands, glad I’d worn water-proof makeup, for once. I laughed under my breath almost as reflex to calm myself down… or it was still my hormones. Yeah, it was probably my hormones. God, this baby’s gonna drive me INSANE.
I pulled back and took a deep breath, resting my arms at my sides but bringing one up to cup my stomach when I felt it twinge, slightly.
“When you’re ready, dear, do join us. I’ll stop Ash before he comes back in here and makes it harder for you to calm down.” With that, she went back into the living room, where I could hear what sounded like a football game coming from the TV.
I stood in the kitchen with my palms pressed into the ledge of the counter and slowly caught my breath, taking it deep through my nose and slowly out my mouth.
“You’re starting to drive mommy crazy with all of these newfangled hormones. I wonder if it’s supposed to be what you feel or if it’s because thanks to you, I have like three times the normal amount of blood I should have,” I said affectionately to my stomach. I don’t think it was able to hear me, just yet, but there was no harm in starting early.
“Baby, you still in there?” Ash’s voice came floating out of the living room.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” I called, taking another breath before looking in a small mirror over the sink to see that my face wasn’t flushed anymore, nor were my eyes puffy. Yeah, Indigo one, pregnancy five.
I gave my pregnant body five because it’s made me cry a number of times, I already have to buy new bras, and I can’t really wear my shoes, anymore. I get frustrated with my clothes, too, so Ash has been buying me shirts in the maternity stores as well as band shirts that were men’s extra larges for when I got closer to my due date. I know some women wear their boyfriend/husband’s clothes, but since Ash is a men’s fucking EXTRA SMALL that’s impossible. No, really that’s how fucking tiny he is. Sometimes when he’s holding me, I feel like I can crush him.
Walking back into the living room, I saw that indeed, there was a football game on, and the majority of Ash’s family, including Ash himself, were completely enraptured by the game.
Even if I understood football, I don’t think I would have cared about it. I have lived in America for almost ten years, and I have never understood football. I understood the craze, but I cannot understand the sport itself.
Crossing my arms and resting them above my stomach, I stood next to where Ash sat in an armchair and leaned on the arm. He seemed a bit focused on the game to really remember that I was behind him.
I seemed to be wrong, though, because as soon as my shapely hip made contact with the arm, he whipped his head around to me, and his eyes brightened up and his grin somehow grew even larger.
“Hey, baby, you feeling better?” He reached over to pull my arms lose and take one of my hands, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.
I smiled gently. “Yeah, I think I got it out of my system, but the baby could have other plans at any moment, now.”
He laughed. “Oh, is it getting worse?”
I blushed slightly. “I’m just weepier than I normally am. I usually don’t cry as much as I do pregnant. Sucks, my ‘bad girl’ rep will get tarnished.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean your tenancy to get into fights in front of coffee shops with bikers twice your size and age?”
I laughed nervously under my breath and scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah, maybe not to that extent, but at least them I didn’t break down at the cheesiest or silliest moments.”
Smirking, Ash simply reached to pull me around the arm and onto his lap, securing his arms around me, and resting his chin on my shoulder.
“Who’s playing?” I asked quietly.
“Broncos and Steelers,” he said absentmindedly, playing with the end of my green fringe.
“Do you watch football?” One of his aunts asked me, her eyes on the screen.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. In Brazil, it doesn’t exist, but our futebol, what you call soccer, is what’s important in Brazil. But even that, I didn’t pay much attention to. Even so, American football makes so little sense to me that even if I wanted to get into it, I’d get more lost the more I tried to learn it.” I finished with a short laugh. “Every time Ash tries to explain it to me I get so lost that he ends up giving up because it’s even more confusing than before.”
His relatives laughed and I could feel Ash’s face warm up against my shoulder and side of my neck and face. He held me a bit closer to him while trying not to crush my belly.
“What did you tell her, man?” His uncle said with a laugh. “Sometimes, I think you only speak a language you can understand, and now since you have a girlfriend whose first language isn’t even English. You might wanna work on that.” His laughter choked most of what he was saying.
I couldn’t help but join in the laughter, reaching behind me to play with Ash’s hair and leaning my head back to kiss his cheek.
“Yeah, sometimes when he talks, he speaks so quickly and/or quietly that it’s too hard for me to decipher.”
“Alright, alright,” Ash said suddenly, putting a hand over my mouth. “How about we stop the torture and talk about something else?”
I pushed his hand off of my mouth and somehow got myself off of his lap without his help, but Ash still got up after me.
“Where you going?” He whispered.
I smiled. “Ash, I have to use the ladies room, and I don’t really need you to hold my hand in order to do it.”
He smirked and barked out a short laugh. “Alright, third door on the left is the bathroom.” He pointed down a long hallway.
Smiling, I turned and marched down the hall, noticing that both sides were covered completely in photographs of family. I had to pee too badly to really see them just yet, so I’ll go first.
Entering the bathroom, I did my business quickly and then washed up. I wanted to see the pictures on the walls.
Leaving the bathroom, instead of immediately going back to the living room, I walked to the far end of the hallway, and started to look at the pictures.
Some of them were clearly incredibly old. The first ones I saw were brown and fading, and there was a date scrawled with a fountain pen that dated back to the 1890s. The ones after that dated more and more recently, coming through the 1910s, the 20s, the Great Depression, eventually I came to a wedding photo with a clearly younger Gran and Gramps, with the date and their names scrawled. Gran’s hair was inky black and coiled around her head elegantly, and her dress was lacy and high collared, Gramps in a stiff tuxedo, his long dark hair pulled back behind his head.
In the next photo, Gran was propped in a hospital bed, a small, dark bundle in her arms, and a tired, happy smile on her face. This must have been the day Ash’s mother was born. Fast-forwarding, I recognized Ash’s features in his mother’s face. He has her cheekbones and the same general face shape, and his skin wasn’t quite as dark as hers, but in some of her photos as a teenager, I could see Ash’s trademark smirk.
In the photos of her as a teenager, I saw that the appearance of a light-skinned man with dark hair and eyes was making himself more and more known, his arms around Ash’s mother, and I knew it had to be his father. The high school photos progressed into a wedding photo in flashy seventies dress, a laugh in both of his parents’ eyes.
The next photo was a hospital photo, Ash’s mother propped in the bed, a small, dark bundle that could only be Ash tucked into her arms. His father was peering over her shoulder while they both stared lovingly into their son’s face.
I saw Ash progress from a small newborn into a chunky toddler with big brown eyes and a dimpled smile. Then, his parents disappeared completely from the photos, and I knew that it was because that it was after the accident. There was still light in Ash’s eyes, but it was slightly dulled in sadness. I don’t think at that age, Ash would have completely understood what had happened, whereas I was in preschool when it happened to me. I saw his little league photos of a happy little Ash with short brown hair and the famous cheekbones starting to make themselves known through his baby fat. Then he hit high school, and then his hair started to get longer, and he started to appear in jerseys for various sports, namely football and baseball. He grew leaner and his cheekbones became more prominent. A couple of girlfriends showed up here and there, along with an incredibly cheesy senior prom photo with a pretty brunette who had teased her hair big and was wearing a floral dress with cap sleeves, while Ash was wearing a clearly uncomfortable tuxedo, his hair cut neatly around his head.
It progressed to his graduation, in a shiny yellow gown and cap, a bright smile on his face and his grandparents on either side of him, his diploma in a scroll in his hand.
There were a lot of photos of holidays and birthday, and in one, Ash was putting suitcases into the back of a truck, a happy grin on his face.
“Checking out the family history?”
I jumped slightly and looked to see Ash watching me, a gentle smile on his face, his arms crossed low to his waist. He walked behind me and unraveled his arms to wrap them low on my stomach, cupping my baby belly, and we turned to a photo of Ash’s mother holding him as an infant, her smile bright across her face.
“Yeah, I didn’t realize how much you look like your mom,” I said, putting my hands over his.
He chuckled. “Yeah, my Gran used to tell me that when I was a kid. According to her, my mom and I act pretty differently, funny enough, and I act more like my dad did. Apparently my mom was super loud and abrasive, and often times had wild ideas for new things to do, and was almost always bruised. I like doing new things, but often not things that make me hurt all the time. My dad was not exactly cautious, but he was a quiet guy and liked to go out and do things, but often kept to himself and he was pretty shy. Apparently my mom approached him, not the other way around.”
I smiled at his words. “Yeah, but they still sound amazing.”
He sighed. “Yeah, makes me sad that I can’t really remember them. I have a few flashes, mostly the sounds of their voices, and how they smelled, but other than that, it’s really hazy for me. At least you knew yours.”
I tightened my grip over his hands. “Yeah, but that almost works against me because I lost them when I was so young. I remember the day it happened so vividly, and then when my grandparents came, I’d barely known them at that point. They appeared nice for my mom’s friend who’d watched me until they came and to the American social workers, but almost as soon as we got to Brazil, they showed their true colors, or rather, my grandmother did. My grandfather mostly watched and enforced a few things.”
I felt him shrug behind me. “Well, I can promise you this much, Indy,” he said quietly. “You and I are not gonna die the way our parents did. Yes, it was an accident, but you and I are gonna make damn sure that they have us as long as they need us there.”
Smiling softly, I leaned into Ash and turned my nose into his neck, and shut my eyes.

Notes

Hey guys!
Just so you know, everyone in Ash's family is fictional, and all that is said about his family is fictional. Very little is truly known about his family other than he's from Missouri, was raised by his grandparents, and that he's half Native American. He's a private man and keeps the majority of his family history to himself.
Also as a side note, I am working again, and work four days a week, and i start school again in September. I don't know how much time i will have to write the next chapter, but i will try and do it sooner than this one.

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