by H. M. Ward
I nod, which is really weird with a heavy helmet on. I feel like a bobble head.
“Oh, and you can talk to me, I can hear you too.” He gives me a quick little wink and sits on his bike. I stand there waiting, feeling a little bit awkward. He gets the motor going, which, in turn, gets mine going. Pete Ferro, on a motorcycle, revving the motor, is the epitome of manly and it’s enough to make me want to go pull him back into the house and have my dirty way with him after all. Oh, and he knows what effect it has on the ladies too, because he looks at me when he revs the engine once more and his eyes light up wickedly.
When Pete tells me to get on, I follow his instructions and squirm, trying to get comfortable, which translates into trying to push my butt as far up on the seat as possible so that my lady parts aren’t pressing up against his perfect butt. A very hard feat to accomplish seeing as the seat is on a forward slant and made of slippery leather.
Pete turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder. “I realize you have trouble controlling your little urges but I need you to sit still back there. Get as close to me as possible and no wiggling those sexy little hips of yours or we’ll end up in a ditch, and not in the fun way.”
“Ass.” I try to be annoyed, but really, he’s hot and he just said my hips were sexy. I can’t get annoyed with that.
“Glad you’re enjoying the view. Ready? Put your hands on my hips and hold on tight. Remember, no wiggling. When we turn, follow the bike, lean into the curve, not away.”
“Got it.” Oh my goodness! I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is so cool!
When he takes, off, I’m taken by surprise by the jolt, and it sends me sliding backwards. I squeal and wrap my arms around his waist, holding on tight. Through the headphones in the helmet, I can hear Pete laugh. When we reach the end of the long driveway, he doesn’t slow down to check for oncoming traffic, he just turns, the bike angling itself dangerously to the side.
“Follow the bike Gina! Lean into the curve.” He warns as we’re turning.
Easier said than done. My basic instinct for survival doesn’t want me to lean towards the gritty asphalt that’s coming closer and closer to my face with every passing moment. I like my skin and want to keep it on me, not leave it scraped in ribbons all over the road. I close my eyes and let myself go, letting my body tilt along with the bike. My grip around Pete’s waist tightens and once we’re back to being completely upright I start to breathe again, not realizing that I’d been holding my breath. I release my death grip around his waist but he places one hand over mine, entwining our fingers and gently squeezing, keeping me there. The angle of the bike has him laying down so low that I’m practically laying across his back.
“How was that?” He asks. I hear a smile in his voice. He obviously likes the rush.
“Oh my God! That was... amazing! Let’s do that again.” I giggle. I feel so alive. Pete laughs again, releases my hand and accelerates abruptly, making me squeal once more and hold onto him tighter.
The ride goes on for much longer than it should, taking many detours and a couple of scenic routes, as opposed to the quicker, direct route. Being this close to Pete once more seems greedy, like asking for a 3rd helping of dessert but every time I go to release my grip on his waist, he does the same thing over and over again. He places a hand on mine and entwines our fingers until he needs to use both hands to maneuver his bike. We pass a truck carrying window panes and I catch our reflection in one of the glass sheets.
Oh, hell yeah, I’m so badass right now! Ha!
Pete laughs a genuine belly laugh and it’s only then that I realize that I said that out loud and with the Bluetooth helmets, he heard everything. I don’t care. This is too frickin’ fantabulous.
We stop at a quaint little coffee house along the river to have a small late breakfast of coffee and warm, homemade donuts. He tells me more about his interrupted doctorate and it’s obvious that he feels passionate about literature and poetry. I tell him all about dancing and being on stage. He listens attentively, not once referring to the fact that dancing is for pussies. We eventually get back on his bike and resume our ride. I keep asking him to go faster, to which he usually laughs and obliges willingly.
I wish this day could last forever but since all good things must come to an end, so does our little ride together. When the bike stops in front of my house, it’s like waking up from a fantastic dream. The feeling is exhilarating. I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins from some of the more dangerous turns and accelerations and I feel like I can fly.
We sit there for a couple of silent moments, my arms still wrapped around him, holding hands. “So,” he says.
“So,” I echo back, looking at his fingers. I want to hold onto the feeling but the dream is shattered when I see my mother and father, followed by Anthony, rushing out of the house.
Following Pete’s instructions, I get off of the bike and he helps to unfasten the strap under my chin. I can’t see all of Pete’s face because of his helmet but I can see his eyes and when he spots Anthony, they narrow into slits and I know he’s getting furious. I can see the anger gently bubbling up and I know what it ultimately means. I don’t want him to fight. I don’t want my stupid ex to affect his mood. He’s been so happy and light hearted today and I want to keep him that way.
Thanks to the headsets, I know I can speak to him without the others listening in. “Peter, let it go. Please. He’s not worth it.”
I want to touch him so badly, to give him a comforting touch, knowing that it’ll calm him down, but I can’t. Not in front of my parents. Pete looks at me and his anger seems to subside a bit. When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “Thank you, for everything.”
I don’t get to hear or see his reaction because my mother comes tearing down the steps, wailing, “Oh my dear heavens. Regina! You’re safe! Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” My mother is in hysterics, and my father’s voice booms out.
“Get in this house right now, young lady!”
Really? Young lady? Okay, so maybe shutting my phone off and not letting my parents know I was safe may not have been the smartest plan, but still. This is utterly embarrassing. Maybe I’ll call Erin this afternoon and inquire about moving in with her. This would not have been an issue if I didn’t live at home.
Anthony stays on the steps by the front door and doesn’t come down. Before I get a chance to remove the helmet and the jacket, Pete revs the motor to his bike and takes off.
No goodbye, not even a nod.
He just leaves.
MANLY URGES
August 10th, 12:41pm
Pete’s tail lights disappear and I hear a little blip, letting me know that our helmets are out of range. Everything gets eerily silent after that, except for the breeze rustling through the leaves, the distant sound of a lawn mower, and the happy chirping birds perched high up in the trees. Fucking birds.
I might as well get this over with. I’m not looking forward to crushing my parents’ dreams when I tell them the truth about what happened. They are going to be so disappointed in Anthony.
I manage to remove the helmet and walk past everyone in silence, making my way towards the house. It’s much too hot to keep the leather jacket on outside but I’m not ready to take it off just yet. The inside of the house is air conditioned, which will give me an extra little moment wrapped up in Pete’s scent and of this morning’s happy memories.
I can’t believe the nerve of Anthony showing up here today after what he’s done. When I storm past him on the front porch, I grit my teeth and say under my breath, so that only he can hear, “Why are you here? Run out of cat food?”
I don’t wait to see his reaction. I simply walk into the house and head towards the living room. There’s no sense in hiding in my room. They’ll be up there like a cat up a tree in no time and, oh my God, why can’t I stop thinking about freaking cats?
I take a seat on the couch and as soon as Anthony walks in, he takes the seat ne
xt to me, putting a hand on my knee. Before my parents have a chance to join us, I place my hand on his and squeeze it with all the strength I have, digging my nails into his skin. I see his face twist in pain and I say, “Don’t ever touch me again, you lying, freaky, bastard!”
I let go of his hand and stand up, wanting to be as far away from him as possible. I’m consumed by rage and if he is anywhere near me, I may do something I’ll regret. Legally, I’m not allowed to castrate anyone.
“Regina...” Anthony doesn’t get a chance to continue because my father walks in, chest all puffed up like he usually does when he’s about to reinstate discipline, followed by my mother, who’s wiping a tear from her eye. The ticking of the grandfather clock is unusually loud as we wait for my dad’s opening words. We don’t talk before he does, not unless we are feeling suicidal. I can see a vein pulsating on his forehead. Yep! He’s pissed alright. The Granz pulsating forehead vein is a measure of one’s rage and right now, my Dad’s has reached DEFCON 1. Guns are cocked and loaded and waiting to fire.
I’m concerned about his reaction when I tell him about his golden boy. He’s not been feeling well and this will make him worse. If Anthony wasn’t here it’d be easier and a lot less tense.
Dad clears his throat, puts both hands behind his back and lifts his chin. “We’re disappointed in you, Regina. Anthony called us last night, in a panic, saying that he couldn’t find you anywhere, you don’t answer your calls and then you show up the next morning on the back of some hoodlum’s motorcycle? I didn’t think my daughter was a cheap trollop. You’ve disgraced this family and betrayed Anthony’s trust.”
WHAT?
I take a deep breath and try to keep calm. Of course that’s what they think, that I went off and did it with motorcycle man until dawn. This whole thing does look incriminating.
“This is not what you think. Yes, I should have called. That was my mistake, but there are some things you should know.”
I look towards my ex, who’s sitting quietly and much too relaxed for my taste. He should be shitting his pants by now. I’m about to out him in front of Reginald Granz the third, hardass extraordinaire and key master to his daughter’s chastity belt. I put both hands in the pockets of Pete’s leather jacket and take in a deep breath. “Anthony was unfaithful. I caught him with another woman last night. That’s why I took off.”
Dad runs a hand over his face and through his thinning hair. I’m waiting for him to go apeshit on Anthony’s puny ass but instead he puts his hands on my shoulders.
He turns to me. In a creepy calm voice, he says, “Anthony told us everything. You can’t jump to conclusions every time he decides to have dinner with a female classmate.” Dad pats my shoulder like I’m an infant and can’t tell what’s what.
“Dinner? Is that what you’re calling it now? Would you like me to tell you what he was really doing or are we going to continue on with this illusion of the truth?” I sound placid and perfectly regal. The problem is that it all falls apart.
My mom, always the pacifist, wanting to calm the troubled waters, pipes in, “Anthony explained it to us. He was only helping this young woman for their upcoming practical exam. Jealousy isn’t very becoming, Regina. Although I can understand how you must have felt. Running off is never the answer.”
“Jealousy? Do you people even know what he did? No, of course not.” I let out a sigh, not wanting to spell it out. “All right. Since you all seem to want to hash it out in the open like this, why not?” My hands are flying through the air while I speak. I’m not holding back anymore. If they want the truth, here it is. I point at my ex. “He cheated on me last night. As in he had sex with another woman, and there is no way to misinterpret anything because I saw it!”
My mom looks way too composed when she says, “Honey, maybe you just thought you saw something. They are doctors you know. Sometimes they need to practice physical examination techniques.”
Oh holy hell. I blink at her. “Mom, how do you misinterpret something like seeing another woman’s mouth sucking on my boyfriend’s dick? I may not be a doctor but it seems to me that a demonstrating how to give a blow job isn’t standard medical procedure!”
The grandfather clock keeps ticking away even though time seems to stand still. Mom covers her poor innocent ears, not wanting to hear about such vile things.
Anthony squirms in his seat and has his hands over his mouth, preventing himself from saying anything that may betray the truth, and my father is rubbing his eyes, probably unable to stand the look of me.
“Regina! You will watch your tongue in front of your mother!” His voice is high and clipped. His face is turning red and I know his heart rate is way up there. Stress is going to kill him one day and his little head will pop. Mom has told me how hard his job is over and over again. That’s why I never want to add to the mess, but this is not okay.
“And not refute the accusation? Are you demented or did you order me from a website? Babies come from vaginas, not Storks-R-Us! I am very sorry I worried you but, that’s the fact of the matter.”
“NO.” Dad’s voice booms, cutting me off. “The facts are these: You acted like a child and stormed off when someone else looked at your toy the wrong way. Grow up, Regina. You can’t have a fling every time someone hurts your feelings.” He turns his gaze on Anthony. “As for you, so be it. These things happen from time to time.”
“Sir, I—” Anthony tries to interrupt and Dad turns beat red and stutters. It’s as if he’s gone into nuke mode and is about to blast off in front of us.
“However,” Dad uses his huge voice and death glare to finish his statement without interruption, “if what my daughter says is true, let me give you a warning. Once you two are properly engaged, there is to be no more of this fooling around with other women.”
Anthony hangs his head in shame and stares at the floor. Asshole.
“Regina,” when he says my name, I flinch, “although your behavior last night was appalling, I’m willing to overlook it this once. I guess your mother should have prepared you more but please keep in mind that he is a young man and young men have...”
“Don’t. Don’t even say it, Dad. I swear to God if you say that young men have urges, I’m going to scream. That is such bullshit! It’s a double standard. You’re seriously justifying what he did because he’s a guy? Yet you’re condemning me for that exact same thing? News flash—I didn’t do anything. Nothing happened! But you guys wouldn’t know that because you never even bothered asking me!” By the time I’m done I know that nothing has gotten through. Daddy sees his little girl pitching a fit. It looks like a tantrum over a toy. I calm myself. “I’m sorry, but this should have been between me and Anthony.”
He growls, “Regina Marie Granz, you will not use that tone with me if you know what is good for you. This whole mess could have been just between you, but you didn’t answer your goddamn phone. If you want to be treated like an adult, then act like one.
“My business here is done. You two will sort out your differences so that we can all put this whole ugly affair behind us. And to ensure that neither one of you is tempted to do anything remotely stupid like this anymore, I’m going to help speed up this engagement. As of now, consider yourselves betrothed. I’ll have the ring ordered and ready by the end of the week. We’ll have the official engagement party before the end of the month. End of story.” He smiles as he clasps his palms, like this is a happy event.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have more pressing business to attend to. It seems that while you were having your little lover’s spat last night the final witness took a turn for the worst. They are keeping him on life support so that his family can say their last goodbyes. I expect that police are going to start making arrests fairly soon. I have to be sure that the company is ready to get through this potential media frenzy.” Dad leaves the room, followed by my mom, who looks back over her shoulder with an apologetic look on her face.
I slump down on the chair in the corner of
the room and pull my knees up to my chin, wrapping the jacket around me. I feel sick every time I think about it. Pete keeps saying it wasn’t my fault, so does Erin, but I can’t help but feel like that guy’s life is on my shoulders. I deserve to go to jail. I nearly blurt out the whole thing, but I can’t—not with Anthony here—and not with Daddy already worked up. One day I’m going to blurt something out that knocks the wind out of him. That vein will throb one too many times and burst. It happens to men his age with this kind of pressure. He has to maintain past traditions while embracing the future, and all while continuing to grow the family fortune. Some men have lost everything they had from one wrong move. It’s like playing chess with a child—the game can end at any time, for any reason, without reason. I feel like I’m the straw, the piece that cracked the whole damn camel.
Anthony clears his throat. I can’t believe he’s still here.
“Anthony?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Go cough up a furball.”
FLAME OUT
August 13th, 12:46pm
Fourteen minutes to go before my lunch break ends and I’ll be officially late for work.
The wind whips my coat open and I clutch it tightly. A car horn blares somewhere behind me as I hurry up.
I had to invent an excuse so that no one would come looking for me. After last weekend’s events, my father has become overly protective—that’s the nice way of saying it. He thinks I’m trashing it up with my stash of lovers that I keep hidden in every part of the city.
Irony is a bitch.
No one knows where I am right now, and I want to keep it this way. Coming here is a stupid idea, I know, I should stay away but I can’t help myself. I had to come. I had to see for myself and apologize in person.
