“What about that one?” Debbie asked, pointing at another billowy, white cloud above us.
“I say no,” I responded. “It’s too small.”
Debbie lay next to me as we looked up at the sky, guessing whether or not a bird would pass between us and the cloud before it reached directly overhead. So far she was ahead in our little game, seven to four. The screeching of a bird I knew all too well assaulted my ears—a blue jay. And as the sound got closer, it was clearly more than one.
A few seconds later, Debbie pointed up as the flock of birds came overhead. “See? I told you they were protective.”
Four blue jays swarmed a large hawk, chasing him out of our area. No single one of the littler birds stood a chance against the hawk, but as a group they made his life miserable enough to get him to leave.
“You lose again,” Debbie announced as a very high, soaring bird made a circle and came between us and the cloud she’d chosen.
I didn’t care that I was losing at the game, so long as I had her next to me and she was happy.
“An eagle,” she noted.
“The jays aren’t messing with him.” He was my kind of bird—powerful, free to fly wherever he chose, fearless, and best of all, quiet.
“They know he’s too high to be a threat up there.”
“You really think they’re that smart?”
“What do you have against blue jays?” she asked.
“They make too much noise.”
She ran her finger over the shell of my ear, sending a shiver through me. “Is it your hearing?”
We hadn’t talked about this. “Yeah. In a way, it’s a curse. My hearing is freakishly better than average, but it means some little things like that damned bird outside my window make me crazy.”
“I think it’s cute you have a superpower.”
I’d never thought of it that way. “Call me cute again, and you can walk back.”
“So the badass has a weakness. That’s cute.”
I tried to scowl at her. “Keep that up and you’re walking.”
“You’re too much of a gentleman to do that,” she countered.
“That word and my name don’t belong in the same sentence.”
“Bullpucky.”
I laughed.
She leaned over and put her head on my shoulder, her arm across my chest. “It’s too late. You’ve already shown your true nature. Can I ask the gentleman a favor, if I stop calling him cute?”
“Like what?” Anything that stopped me being called cute would be worth it—almost anything.
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s not a yes or a no. It depends on what you want. I’m not painting your damned toes for you or anything stupid like that.”
“Well, never mind then.”
I’d make myself out to be a schmuck if I refused. “I give. What would you like?”
She lifted up on an elbow with a wicked smile. “You said this week was all about doing things together and being happy. I want you to teach me to drive your motorcycle.”
I coughed out a laugh. “My bike? No way.”
“Why not? You don’t think a woman can do it? Is that it?”
Responding the wrong way would get me in deep shit quickly. “No. It’s not that. I don’t let anyone touch my bike.”
“So I’m good enough to hold your dick, but not good enough to touch your bike?”
Somehow this was going downhill rapidly. “My bike is too big and heavy for you.”
“Then teach me on a different one,” she shot back.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re serious?”
“Of course I am,” she said, as if I’d insulted her. She pushed up to sitting. “Let’s go.”
“Now?”
“It’s either that or I ask you why you have a first aid bag that says Property of Fairfax—”
I sat up without letting her finish. “Now is good.”
“You promise, right?”
“Yeah, but only so long as cute leaves your vocabulary.”
Debbie
The picnic had been idyllic—the kind of respite I hadn’t had since, well since the man I’d called Dad had died.
“The grip on the right is the throttle,” Luke said as I rode behind him on the way to the cabin. “You twist back toward you to increase speed.” The growl of the motor rose, and we shot forward as he twisted it to show me.
“I get it. Pull back to go forward. Makes perfect sense.”
He ignored my wisecrack. “Where’s the clutch?” he quizzed.
I patted his left arm. “Left handle.”
“And the back wheel brake?”
I patted his right thigh. “Right foot.”
“Front brake?”
I patted his right arm. “Squeeze the handle, just like on a bicycle. And the gear shift is the left foot.”
“What do you do when you come to a stop?”
I had this quiz nailed. “Downshift all the way, or down to first and up a half click to neutral.”
“And how do you know you got it right.”
I didn’t hesitate. “The little green N lights up.”
He slowed down and leaned in for another curve.
“I’m ready, aren’t I?”
He sped up out of the turn. “We’ll see.”
That seemed to be as much as he’d commit, but I knew I was ready for another step out of my comfort zone. I couldn’t wait for the thrill of having that acceleration at my control.
“What kind of bike should I get?” I asked before the absurdity of the question hit me. I might be in jail not long after we got back. Facing my problem was the only way to get it behind me.
“A Vespa.”
I punched him in the ribs. “That’s a choice for Granny. I’m serious. A real bike.”
“A used Sportster 883 Superlow would probably be good, if you can handle the weight. Or there are some lighter Japanese bikes, if you go in for foreign.” His disdain came through loud and clear.
“It’s just like driving a stick, except you have to get used to the clutch being on the handlebars.”
I stayed quiet.
“Red?”
“What?”
“You have driven a stick before, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, this should be interesting.” His tone made interesting sound like a few dozen laughs, all at my expense.
Luke
That afternoon, I’d started her on the little Honda I kept up here for occasional jaunts up the forest trails when it was muddy. The bike was short and underpowered—a perfect combination for a newbie rider.
She let out the clutch too fast, and the little bike launched ahead.
“Fuck,” she complained as she sideswiped the bush.
“Stop,” I yelled.
She jammed on the brake and stopped the bike, but forgot to pull the clutch lever, and the engine stalled.
I trotted over. “You okay?”
“Fine. It’s only my pride that’s injured.”
Anticipating this kind of thing, I’d outfitted her with leather leggings that were a few sizes too big, and leather gloves to go with the jacket and helmet. She was as crash-proof as I could make her.