I’m not sure if that just means it’s such a deep wound that he can’t control it, or if he feels comfortable enough with me to show it.
“Memento mori.” His whisper is barely audible. Almost as if he isn’t talking to me this time, but just working something out by himself. “This was his reminder that he was going to die one day. And this had showed him what was important.”
“They sound…” I trail, not really sure what I was going to say.
“Exhausting.” He laughs out so loud that it causes me to jump. “They were the best, though. They weren’t perfect, not by any fucking means, but they never tried to be. But to watch them, everyone knew, no matter how much time went by, no matter how much they irritated one another, that they were just as much in love with one another as when they first met. But that’s the thing with that much passion.”
“What?”
“When something burns that bright, and you’re watching the flame flicker from a distance, it’s beautiful. It lights everything around it. But with the wrong move…”
“It takes everything down with it.”
“If you’re not careful.”
“They fight a lot?”
“Not really. They were both so stubborn, and so similar, yet somehow also very different.”
I can hear the sadness lingering under his words, and I look over at him as he studies at the motorcycle, intently. “Were?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach my hand over, placing it on his shoulder.
He shakes his head before looking back over at me. “It happens.” He shrugs me off before walking over and grabbing a helmet off of the wall, holding it out in front of me. “What d’ya say?”
“Which one’s yours?” I smirk before reaching over to grab it.
“None of ‘em?” He says it more as a question. “All of ‘em?” Finally understanding what it is he’s saying. “He would hate it just sitting in here for so long.” I’m drawn into his eyes again as I see them lighten at just talking about riding.
“And you know what you’re doing?” I can’t help but question.
“I’m pretty sure I knew how to ride a motorcycle long before I knew how to drive a car.”
“Promise I won’t die?” I laugh out as I grip a hold of the helmet and pull it over.
“Nope.” He yanks it back for a moment before he lets go, reaching over and grabbing another off of the wall. I can’t help but laugh to myself when he kicks over the bike, and I can hear the keys jingle as he picks them up off of the speedometer.
“Just kept them right there?”
“When it was here. Yes. If someone makes it this far back on the property, gets into the garage to steal it, they’re taking it, regardless.” He laughs, and I’m struck by his grin as he looks over at me, excitement in his eyes as he reaches over and holds out his hand for me. “You trust me?” His face seems to lighten more and I see a completely opposite version of what he was when he was holding the gun to my head.
“Absolutely not.” But I take his hand anyway and let him help me over the seat.
“Good.” I can feel the bike as he cranks it and then turns his head slightly. “Hold on, tight.”
I nervously inch up the seat until the inside of my thighs are pressed against him. Something about riding on the back of a bike with someone seems so intimate, so personal.
He walks the bike out of the garage and presses a button for the door to close behind us. The engine revs as we move forward abruptly, jolting to a stop, causing me to slide even further forward against him.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes as I wrap my arms around this complete stranger and I can feel his laughter as he twists the handle and we actually move. I’m sure, kicking up some of the gravel from underneath us.
I watch our surroundings as we come closer to more houses that all seem vacant. A large garage off to one side, and I’m stunned when I see what looks like an old resort to the other. The entire property seems like an old ghost town.
Something that was once thriving, that somewhere along the lines, flatlined. I want to ask him about it, but after our conversation over the bike, I feel like the weight of all of this may be a bit more than I can even know. There’s a gate once we pass by the building and as he grows closer, it opens on its own. On the other side of it, I can’t help but glance back and watch as it closes on its own, as well.
We move down a small gravel road. He slows the bike as we reach the end and glances back at me. “Where are we going?” I can’t help but laugh and then giving him the address. There’s a small GPS next to the speedometer that he inputs it into and then glances back at me like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kicks up gravel, and he peels out onto the highway.
