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I shake my head, wanting to smile but still feeling sadness circling all my other feelings, keeping them in check. “Cute.”
“Yeah.” He positions my shoulders to the west and wraps his arms around my middle, resting his chin on top of my crown. Pointing, he says, “Recognise that tree?”
I blink at it. It’s a Norfolk Pine. “Is thatourNorfolk Pine?” Suddenly desperate to see the lookout or anything familiar, I search harder. The sadness circling everything inside me shifts into my stomach, forcing it to drop. “It’s all gone. They developed it.”
I feel his chin move on top of my head as he nods. “Yeah. They developed it four years ago. The whole reserve is gone. It’s all light industrial businesses now.”
“I hate that,” I spit out. “Why industrial? Why not at least cafes or houses? Can I see it from here? Where was it?” I ask, and I know he doesn’t need further context. He lowers his head to beside mine, cheek to cheek. I shiver as his warm breath collides with my skin.
Lifting his arm, he points to a silver roof. “It was right there, baby. Our palace.” I let out a stained sigh. “I watched them tear it down from here,” he says.
I turn to look at him, long dark strands slithering out from my fist and whirling around my face. Craning my neck, I search his perfect face, remembering how annoying I found his beauty the first time I saw him. “What did you do when they demolished it?”
His eyes stay glued ahead as he says, “I watched and got veryverydrunk.”
My heart twists. “Alone?”
Releasing a small, sad chuckle, he looks at me as if I should understand this. Should have known. “Who would I’ve been with?”
A tear slides down my cheek. “That isn’t real,” I say, shaking my head adamantly. “That kind of love. Even people who love each other to the ends of the earth still find love again if it ends. They put that person in a special place inside them and move on.”
He says nothing and his silence is like a poker to my heart. Bronson has been alone all this time. Never quite letting anyone in. I envision him up here, watching the bulldozers flatten the trees and shrubs. Watching the wooden planks from our lookout falling apart and rolling into the dirt. My throat tightens and I try to swallow down my grief, but it’s uncomfortable. “Did you find no one else? Ever?”
His eyes soften and he lifts his hand, his fingers spanning out to touch my face. I close my eyes as he traces my features the way he likes to do. “I’ve been with plenty of girls, baby,” he admits. “Icareabout a lot of them. Butyou’remy girl.”
His hand drops from my face, leaving my skin singing about the love he has for me. Love like that of a fairy-tale. Unrealistic. Dangerous. Intense. Wild. But how else would I expect Bronson Butcher to love other than that?
I open my eyes and he’s grinning at me, his dimple set into his left cheek. “Let’s watch Disney movies for the rest of the day. You should just let that beautiful mind relax.”
And it actually sounds perfect.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m not worried about Akila. I’m not desperate to prove myself at work. I have no next step. . . Or responsibility. I just feel lost. . . And I’m okay with it because when we are lost, we are forced to look for ourselves. “That sounds good.”
Shoshanna
Present day
The next day,I’m still fighting the visions of Perry on the floor. Covered in blood. The sound of the gunshot. I wish I knew what to do now. I’ve always had a goal. A direction. A person to go home to. . . first my dad, then Akila, then Perry. . . Now, my direction is unclear.
In any normal situation, I’d be going to the police. Go back to work. Hope time heals the loss. But it isn’t a normal situation. I don’t feel the loss of Perry as the more I think about him, the more I hate him for the lies. The more I feel residual shame for letting him touch me. I do feelloss. . . but it is the loss of the false reality he painted. Loss of the future we started to build around his lies and deceit. And it isn’t a normal situation because Jimmy Storm owns the police. . . But I hold on to Bronson’s words. “I’m not with him. I’m against him.”
It feels wrong to wish for a man’s death.
Nevertheless, I wish for Jimmy Storm’s death.
We spend the morning riding around the District again. Now Bronson has something he wants to show me. Given the last trip. I’m convinced this one will hit me with just as much melancholy. So, while observing the roads he takes, I become pretty sure we are moving through the light industrial area the reserve once occupied. Breathing deeply, I emotionally prepare myself to see the silver roofed building. As I’m sure that is where he is taking me.
We turn the corner and as we pull up the drive, my heart expands even more at the sight of what is ahead. We ride past rows and rows of motorbikes before he circles the building, heading towards a large dirt track. Kids stand on the side, looking a few bikes over. Two others race around the track. We park-up alongside a black Harley and within seconds, four dirt bikes approach us. The kids on them yelping excitedly at Bronson, competing to get his attention.
“I changed the drive sprocket from a fifteen to a fourteen tooth!” one of them yells.
“He didn’t. He’s full of shit! I did it,” another insists.
“You fixed the chain, I fucking changed the sprocket!”
They couldn’t be over twelve-years-old. I find myself in awe of them as I jump off the Ducati, Bronson quickly following me. “Boys, boys, we have a lady present. Watch your language,” he says with cool amusement as he pulls his helmet off and hangs it on the handlebars.
He approaches me, helping me remove my helmet like he always does, and all the boys fall into quiet anticipation, watching and waiting. I can’t take my eyes off them as they vibrate with excitement. They remove their helmets, revealing sweaty wet hair that sticks to their foreheads. They grin at Bronson, admiration glowing within every set of eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a Bronson shrine here.
