Damon smiled. “Just know it’s coming from a pure place, okay? You deserve happiness, and I want to help you get it.”
“That’s definitely not drill sergeant material. You should go back to boot camp.”
He shrugged off the sarcasm. “You said it kills you that Marisa doesn’t consider you as boyfriend material. How does that make you feel?”
Alexander felt angry, confused, bitter, disappointed, and dispirited.
“And what does that make you want to do right now?”
“Something to get out of my head. To prove that women have always been wrong about me.” He gave it a little more thought and tried to sum up his life until now: safe, predictable, and boring. Each of those words summed him up perfectly.
And yet, he’d always wanted to break out of the little shell that he’d constructed for himself: a life that offered nothing but the status quo – no melancholy, sure, but no excitement either. But despite living that way, he’d still gotten rejected, which equated to sadness. So it seemed that, even by purposely avoiding things that frightened him, he still came out on the losing side. Alexander wanted…no, he needed…to upset that balance.
“Say it,” Damon said. “Whatever you’re thinking. Say it.”
“I want to try something new. Something I wouldn’t have even thought about doing before. To challenge myself. To prove that I can be different. To prove that I can feel alive without needing a woman in my life.” Which is how he’d always defined happiness: being in a romantic relationship. And since that had always eluded him, it meant that he’d always been unhappy. And if he wasn’t happy, why would any woman want to date him?
Given that interpretation, before looking for love, he realized he had to find it internally first, something both Damon and Marisa had identified as a fatal flaw. And although he wanted to kick himself for being so oblivious, he appreciated that both were able to pinpoint the issue for him to tackle.
And that’s when he also realized that he hadn’t really been living: he had been hiding. Hiding from pain. Hiding from disappointment. And in order to feel alive again, he had to risk getting hurt. Those ideas resonated with such force that it left him silent.
Damon stared at him for a long moment. “What’s your greatest fear?”
Alexander locked his eyes on Damon’s Harley Davidson. The shiny, black, chromed-out Dyna looked dangerous and intimidating. He imagined himself on that bike, riding down the street.
After almost laughing off the idea, he focused in on the picture forming in his mind, seeing himself pull to a stop at a red light, revving the engine, and darting away when the light turned green. The speed would frighten him, but what if he could control that bike? If he could do that, he could control his fear. If anything gave him confidence, defeating the biggest fear he’d ever known would certainly do that.
“Yeah, right?” Damon said, following his unspoken logic.
Ignoring Damon’s skepticism, he went over to the bike and stared down at it.
“Okay, now we’re talking about you getting slaughtered on the streets. That’s not exactly what I was talking about.”
Damon’s lack of faith reinforced what Alexander knew he had to do. At the prospect of overcoming this lifelong fear, he felt a buzz of excitement kick start the emptiness inside his heart. If riding presented an opportunity to become a more complete person while defeating a fear that always held him captive, he would do it.
Alexander had to face the truth: he’d allowed his fears to defeat him. He needed to learn how to fight without panicking that he might kill someone. And he needed to learn how to ride a motorcycle without thinking of what dangers lurked around some imaginary corner, and instead focused on the enjoyment and confidence that he could gain from the experience.
All told, he knew he couldn’t remain the same person, holding tight to the same lonely lifestyle. He had to open up and try new things. The realization that he’d failed to follow through with that thus far made his insides crawl.
If he wanted what had always eluded him, he needed to become an active participant in his own life. And that meant he needed to expand his mental and physical horizons. Only then could he become the man he’d always hoped to become.
And it all started with facing his greatest fears, one of which was indeed being able to shred up and down streets with confidence on a motorcycle. If he learned how to ride, if he stared down death and refused to quit, if he gained the confidence needed to become the man he always wanted to be, Alexander would one day get the life he had wanted for so long. Maybe that meant getting together with Marisa. Maybe it didn’t. In this instance, she didn’t even factor into the equation. If he finally became the man he wanted to be, he could quit trying to hold onto something that was perhaps never meant to be.
As Damon said earlier, if he wanted something badly enough, he had to risk losing it. And although that possibility rendered him momentarily frozen with mind-numbing fear, he found no other solution.
The only way to dismiss the likelihood of failure was to enact his plan. He needed to go all in. And Alexander knew exactly where to start.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Across the bar, Marisa noticed that Brad’s expression had changed while he read from a piece of paper that he’d just unfolded. He scanned the page, his eyes flickering with emotion, acknowledging the tremendous impact the words held for him.
He read the page with such intensity that Marisa couldn’t look away from him. Although unable to recognizable the meaning behind his shift in temperament, she had the strong impression that his emotions were significant. At times like these, Marisa wished Brad would reveal his feelings, so she could understand what he felt, but he always seemed reluctant.
Brad lowered the paper and, despite the distance between them, he looked up and met Marisa’s face as though he always knew where she stood in relation to him. His demeanor transformed once again, this time granting her the opportunity to comprehend his feelings. His face lit up with joy and pride and…such deep emotion that, even from this distance, she saw his eyes shimmer from the light overhead.
What had moved him to such an extent that tears now shone in his eyes?
He headed toward her with tremendous purpose, as though he had relinquished all of his qualms and decided to be honest with himself for the first time. A captivating smile spread across his lips.
This sudden transformation made Marisa’s heart patter. All of her uncertainties, when it came to Brad were now under reconsideration. The way he held her gaze, glowing with cheerfulness, lifted her spirits.
He stopped in front of her, eyes locked onto hers. He opened his mouth to speak but then shook off the choice, instead holding the document toward her with a smile.
Transfixed, Marisa took the piece of paper and only looked away from Brad when he turned and headed for the restroom.
“Oh, my God,” Lauren said, sounding as if she’d been holding her breath. “What was that all about?”
Marisa had forgotten that Lauren stood on the other side of the table. She reached for her glass of soda with a trembling hand, pressed it to her lips, and it bumped against her lips a couple times before tipping the liquid into her mouth.
Her hands actually trembled with excitement. The soda dissolved some of her apprehension, and she lowered the glass. She unfolded the letter, turning it over, expecting to see her name scrawled on the outside. Not seeing it, she flipped it over again and found a short poem.
Looking into those soulful eyes makes me realize
The skies are always blue whenever I’m with you
Hearing your laugh, listening to your voice
Makes me certain that I have no choice
I can look for another, but I’ll never be complete
If you’re not beside me to my massage my feet
Breaking into laughter, Marisa pulled the page aside.
“What does it say?” Lauren asked, looping around the table in a casual manner, even though she looked despe
rate to read the note.
Marisa stepped away from her friend, shielding her from the poem. She had waited a long time to hear how Brad truly felt, and she wouldn’t share it with anyone – at least, not the first time she read it.
I can’t imagine a closer and more important friend
Someone to be there if I’m broken and need to mend
I want to rest against your heart until our last day
And enjoy your company in every single way
I want a that life that we can share
And hope that you’re nearby to take me there
No matter what I say, no matter what I do
I know that I’ll always love you.
Figuring that the months they spent apart made Brad realize how much he cared for her, Marisa couldn’t catch her breath, and her chest felt tight. His foolish pride prevented him from telling her until she called him. Otherwise, in his mind, he would seem weak and needy.
Marisa hated the games that often came with dating (the length of time that must pass before she called a guy, reluctance to divulge how she felt about a man, etc.), but she knew that Brad didn’t play games. He was always direct with her. So admitting his feelings now, while unexpected, was not a power play to see who had the upper hand in the relationship. He was letting her know that he truly cared.
Just as important, Brad always seemed reluctant to become part of a couple. In the past, she’d often caught him checking out other women, but now that he obviously wanted a long-term relationship, Marisa couldn’t help but think that he needed her. Either Brad cared so much that he couldn’t risk losing her to someone else, or he loved her so much that he wanted a committed relationship and sought to spend his life with her.
Grinning, she presented the poem to Lauren who scanned it, her eyes growing bright as she snaked an arm around Marisa’s shoulders, drawing her close.
“I don’t believe it,” Lauren said with a vibrant smile. “You made that Metal Head turn into a poet for you.”
Marisa opened her mouth to respond, but she spotted Brad walking toward her with an uncertain look on his face, as though unsure how she might respond after reading the poem. She gave him a soft smile.
Since words of affection didn’t come easily to him, she wondered how much time and effort he had put into writing the poem. Marisa imagined him sitting at the creaky table in his cramped apartment, crumpled paper (failed attempts) littering the floor, eraser shavings surrounding the final composition. How many hours had he spent making sure he got each word just right?
He closed in on her and took her in his arms.
“I loved it,” Marisa said, almost getting choked up again.
“So now you know how I truly feel?”
She nodded, meeting his lips with her own. She didn’t even mind that his kiss lacked the yearning that burned inside her. He never matched the emotion that she felt when they embraced. This time, however, Marisa was so overcome with excitement that she overlooked her own feelings and focused on how Brad felt about her.
“Bye, you two,” Lauren said, somewhere in the distance.
A few moments later, after peering into Brad’s eyes, those words made Marisa realize that Brad had led her out of the bar. The moment had totally swept her away. In the parking lot, she told him to stop by her apartment before jumping into her Ford Focus.
A short time later, she ran into her ranch style two-bedroom apartment, threw her coat and purse on the couch, and rushed into the bathroom to freshen up. Only then did she feel the effects of the liquor she’d consumed. Dizzy, she still felt giddy but also a little slow. It shocked her that a little over one shot of liquor impaired her senses, and she thanked the Lord that the effects hadn’t kicked in on her drive home.
She spent the next few minutes removing a few cups and plates from the coffee table, and placing them in the dishwasher, then putting a bunch of library books on self-improvement into a couple piles on the floor beside the couch. She grabbed the few blouses and pairs of slacks that she left lying on her bed and tossed them into the closet.
With her heart knocking and her breath coming quick, Marisa felt a wave of nausea come over her, but taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly fought off the sensation. She lit a chocolate chip-scented candle, Brad’s favorite, just as she heard a knock at her front door. When she turned to let him inside, Brad caught her in his arms and pressed her against his chest, allowing her to feel the depth of his feelings against her thigh.
Within moments, they kissed their way into the bedroom. But the chocolate cookie scent mingled with the nausea that now resurfaced inside her. Marisa broke away from him to hold back the urge to gag.
“Come on, I’m not that bad of a kisser.”
Hearing his voice echoing in her brain as she tried to trample her queasiness, Marisa felt saliva fill her mouth. She bolted away from him and ran into the bathroom, then crumpled before the toilet bowl, lifted the seat, and vomited into the toilet. She grasped her hair with both hands to prevent it from getting swabbed with puke, and threw up again, feeling better now that her system purged the liquor.
“Should I hold your hair back or something?” He sounded like he’d rather accompany Jack the Ripper on a killing spree than act on his suggestion. “Isn’t that, like, what I’m supposed to do or something?”
She shook her head. “God, this is so embarrassing…guess I had one shot too many. Please go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure. No problem.” He was quiet for a long beat. “Are you sure, you don’t want me to—”
“Please, just go.”
“Because you don’t look—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Um…okay then…hope you feel better soon. Goodnight.”
When she heard the door shut from around the corner, Marisa felt her heart swell with a heap of despondency. Tears rushed into her eyes again. But this time, rather than give in to the disillusionment of how her night might have turned out, she steadied her nerves. She got to her feet and looked in the mirror.
While reading Brad’s poem, she’d been giddy with excitement (perhaps the liquor helped a bit in that area). And because that was the first time she had heard about his feelings, something he’d surely known for quite some time, she obviously felt a more powerful connection than he did. Put that way, it made sense that she’d overreacted.
So why did she expect him to know how she felt?
Brad must have picked up on her cues at the bar: she must have sounded reluctant…until she read his poem, at which time he swept her out of the bar. And wasn’t it possible that he truly wanted to help her while she threw up? Surely, she had only herself to blame for how this night ended.
CHAPTER NINE
After having spent most of the previous night doing research on motorcycles and checking out hundreds of different bikes at numerous online venues, Alexander met Damon at a Harley Davidson dealership the next morning to look at a 2004 Sportster that caught his eye.
As Damon checked out some accessories at the end of the showroom, Alexander made his way through aisles of bikes until he found it. The Sportster had oversized saddlebags, Python pipes, a windshield, and chrome spokes on the front tire. He grabbed a handlebar and got on.
“Nice,” Damon said, coming up to him. “This is the one, huh?”
“Sure is,” he said, and asked Damon to take it for a test ride. And that’s when his fears set in.
What if he dumped the bike and got road rash, not only across his arms, chest, and legs, but his face? What if he skidded on a puddle of water and slammed into a semi, severing his legs? Then again, anyone can get into an accident, regardless of the vehicle.
Sometime later, walking alongside the salesman, Damon re-entered the building with a grin. “One hell of a nice ride, dude.”
After speaking with Damon and questioning various aspects with a salesperson, Alexander negotiated a fair price for the bike and bought it.
A couple hours later, now inside an
elementary school parking lot, Alexander sat down on the Harley and spent some time getting used to the 650-pound motorcycle and how easily it tipped to either side. “This weighs four times as much as me. How am I going to keep it stable?”
Damon said, “Speed will keep you upright. Besides, I’ve seen lighter men riding heavier hogs.”
“Damn,” said Alexander. “For a romance novelist, you watch way too much porn.”
Damon went over the basics, and after some practice, which resulted in a little more familiarity, Alexander spent time working on maintaining his balance, starting and stopping, shifting gears, and turning. An hour later, shocked by his quick learning curve, he somehow got the hang of it.
*
At a neighborhood pub named Garrity’s Tavern, which featured a few pool tables, an air hockey table, and a digital jukebox currently playing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood, Marisa sat at the rectangular bar with Lauren, trying to understand what had happened with Brad the night before. She stared at some of the Chicago sports memorabilia that hung from the walls: Bulls and Blackhawks flags, framed photographs of Wrigley Field, U.S. Cellular Stadium, and Soldier Field, as well as athletes in action: Derrick Rose dunking a basketball, Paul Konerko raising a fist as he rounded first base, and Patrick Kane delivering a vicious slap shot, and dozens of others Chicago athletes both past and present.
“He wrote that poem,” Marisa said, “and I thought he’d changed. But when he stopped over at my place, he expected us to have sex...immediately. He became the person he used to be; selfish and one-track-minded. It’s like he wasn’t even there with me. Like the person who wrote that poem…”
She’d always presumed that no matter how much someone loved you, no matter how much they wanted to change into the person you needed them to be, they either couldn’t or wouldn’t make it happen. Then again, she got nauseous rather quickly, so how could he have known how she felt or what she needed? He didn’t have any time to ask her. Besides, he wasn’t a mind-reader.
One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) Page 9
