The engine has grown louder, the wind is digging its cold claws into me. My heartbeat swells into a throbbing ball in my throat. I shiver. I grip so hard with my arms and knees to the man in front of me that even muscles I hadn’t suspected existed are stretched to the point of spasm. They ache, yet I squeeze harder.
His white hair covers me completely, waves around me like a wild sea, hiding the world. My panting sheds thick mist on my glasses, broken only by the dark silhouette of the passing lampposts. I feel dizzy.
Shit, where are we?
I concentrate with all my nerve fibres to look out, but my eyes and mind are unable to form a picture, time and space are merging into a unified white mass.
I wish there was a sharp bend where he would have to slow down!
But with each bend he brakes less and less. – Does he brake at all? – As if testing the maximum speed at which he can take them without tipping over.
Oh, I wish I’d jumped off at that red light!
Why is there no more of them? Where the hell are we?
Why did I get on behind him? What’s got into me? Why didn’t I run when I had the chance?
I lost my mind. This isn’t some romantic fantasy where the average girl falls in love with the special, rich guy who saves her…
It’s a trap. I’m trapped in the backseat of a motorcycle. By choice.
And he takes me wherever he wants. Out of the world. Into the unknown.
Into death.
He’s leaning into the bend. Deeper than ever before.
We’re gonna tip over.
My body goes into a rigid spasm. I want to scream, but fear blocks the air. I bite my cracked lip, my tears spilling out in a silent cry for help.
He straightens up and accelerates further.
He moves the bike to the left to dodge a cyclist, then abruptly back.
How can he process and react so quickly?
Maybe he cannot.
Turn after turn.
Faster and faster.
He’s insane… We’re going to die!
We’re spinning sideways, slowing down, the tyres squealing and sliding.
It stops.
Blood keeps racing through my veins.
I can feel it as he puts his foot down, stops the engine. I can’t believe it… Like it’s not happening to me.
“Here we are.” His melodious voice is as calm as it was when we drove off. How can it be…?
I dont care anymore… I just… I need to get away from him, as far as possible.
The adrenaline is pouring into my jelly-like trembling limbs. I stand up, grip his shoulders with stiffened fingers. I swing, my feet touching the asphalt.
Solid, hard asphalt. Too hard and static for my body used to speeding.
The white fog fills with black particles, my knees buckle beneath me, my bag lands with a dull thud beside me, the rough crunch of the road digging into the flesh of my palm.
The street ripples.
I gasp for air. Not enough…
My trembling hands press to the cold helmet to take it off, but it gets caught in my glasses; the frame presses against my eyebrows. I fold up the plexiglass, lift my glasses, then remove the helmet. It falls from my feeble fingers with a soft tap.
Blinded by the light, my mouth and lungs fill with fresh air. Black dots devour my field of vision. My skin cool with sweat, hot chocolate and stomach acid creep onto my tongue.
Two palms touch my cheek, lock it in a warm vice. I want to pull away, but I don’t have the strength to break away from the only stable point in the swirling world.
“It’s all right. Breathe through your nose. Slowly, deeply.” His gentle, hypnotic voice soothes my frayed nerves. I close my mouth and obey. The darkness swarming in my vision slowly dissipates.
He kneels before me, hunched over, his black gaze boring into my soul like an anchor. There is something about him… Calm and comforting, that makes me feel at home.
“Better?”
Such a big hand… it covers my face.
Dad’s rough hand clasps my cheek.
But his skin is silkier, his fingers longer. And he wouldn’t hurt me.
“Yeah… It’s better.”
He lets me go slowly, as if afraid I’ll fall apart. Her warmth is replaced by an autumn breeze. It’s cold, but not nearly as frosty as the one that tore at me on the bike.
“Here.” He holds out something white to me. Without my glasses, it takes me a few seconds to realise it’s a handkerchief.
When did I start crying? And when did I stop?
Ashamed, yet grateful, I take it, wipe my eyes, blow my nose. Hastily, nervously, as if that would make my reaction undone.
He untangles my numb fingers from my glasses, slides the stems under my hair, limp with wind and sweat, over my ears, with the same slow movement as before we departed. So kind and caring… It is hard to believe that this man is the same crazy, speeding motorcyclist who put me in danger.
Perhaps I was never in danger.
It was just my imagination…
The guilt burns me.
As my tear-stained glasses slide back into place and the surroundings once again take on a sharp outline, his slightly furrowed brow also seems to indicate some confusion. He glances side to side, brushes back his long hair, which miraculously falls in a flawless order over his shoulders.
A red Audi brakes past us. Out of the window peers a discreetly made-up, middle-aged woman. Her chestnut-brown pincushions gleam with the shine of dyed hair in the afternoon sunlight, and in her ears gleam a simple but expensive-looking pair of gold earrings.
“Is everything okay?” Her green eyes search me with concern. As if she knows me.
Should I know her too? Could she be a former client or acquaintance of Grandpa’s? She might have seen me at the funeral or… who knows where. I’m filled with an awkward confusion. It is probably the same for celebrities who can’t take a step without being photographed.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” I smile, stuffing my handkerchief into my jeans pocket. “I just suddenly felt dizzy, but I’m better now.” I glance at Devin, and the woman smiles suggestively.
“Glad to hear. Take care!” She rolls up the window and drives on.
As soon as the car turns the corner, Devin stands up and pulls out his phone. Oh, no… Perhaps it just occurred to him that my name doesn’t just happen to coincide with the name of the star lawyer who put so many criminals behind bars.
I’m sure he’s looking me up online right now… He realises what a scandal he could get into if he meets me and then walks out on me…
“Sorry.” He says and my heart skips a beat. “Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes. Actually, even less.” He turns the phone over to me to show the time. 15:29. So if we left the café at fifteen…
Impossible. Where, what roads did we take?
And at what speed?
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Next time, let’s make it fifteen. Or twenty.” I hear my voice, but it’s as if someone else is speaking for me.
Next time?!
No. I’ll never. Ever. Get on that again.
But… why is that exactly? Because it’s the first time I’ve ever been on a motorcycle and overreacted?
“If you insist.” He laughs softly. Puzzled, yet… relieved. Like he was afraid he’d gone too far on a first date and the girl would never want to see him again. “Tomorrow’s my day off, so I’m free. Same time, same place?”
“Okay.” I’ get on my feet, sweep my knees.
He bends down for the helmet. The one I was supposed to pick up and return.
To say thank you. After all, he risked a possible fine for my safety.
But the words are caught in my throat. I push the glasses up my nose.
How can I be so rude?
But he just smiles. As he passes me, he squeezes my shoulder. Quickly, yet gently, encouragingly. As if he knows exactly what’s on my mind… and how much his touch means to me.
“See you tomorrow, then.” He says with the helmet already on.
I open my mouth to say goodbye, but he starts the engine and is already gone. This part of the suburbs is a zone thirty, yet he turns onto the main road too quickly.
Life-threateningly fast.
And I was sitting behind him not so long ago…
We could have died.
But we didn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing. He looked out for me, worried about me, cared for me.
You will die alone.
Maybe not.
For a moment, I’m flooded with a pleasant warmth, but I’m immediately overcome with guilt. All the time, attention, care from someone like him. It’s… it’s just too good.
Too good to be true.
I’m slowly walking to the side of the main road.
He must have known from my card that I live in the neighbouring street… Still, he didn’t intrude with questions. Thankfully. I was reluctant to admit but I do not want my mother to see us through the window. Who knows how she’d react. She might be happy, she might be angry. She might make a scene…
A silver car honks its horn and brakes next to me.
I’m frozen in terror. When did I step off the curb? Here, where there isn’t even a crosswalk…
“You son of a bitch!” The driver shouts at me as I run across the road.
Shit! I almost got run over! In a similar situation I would have been in tears, but now it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.
On both sides of the street, there are trees trimmed into a sphere. The afternoon sunlight streams through them, scattering tiny dots of light on the narrow pavement. As far as I can see, two- or three-storey luxury houses rise up with ornate columns and arches, their gardens lined with exotic decorative plants, pools or fountains. At other times I am overwhelmed by the sight of them; like a pack of predators watching with hungry, gleaming window-eyes, waiting for the right moment to pounce on the stray prey. I always feel I must flee, yet now I am greeted as an old acquaintance. I inhale the scent of freshly cut grass and bush leaves. The smell of home. Maybe I was home all along, only I felt like an outsider and tortured myself with the thought of being an outcast. Peaceful happiness tingles, I want to laugh and run.
His deep voice rings in my ears, I feel the warmth of his skin on my face. I recall it again and again, afraid that if I think of anything else for a moment, I will doubt it ever happened.
Same time, same place?
Tomorrow has never seemed so far away. Like Christmas as a child; the more I look forward to it, the slower time passes.
Come on… it’s only twenty-four hours, I’ll manage. Somehow.
I open the reddish brown fence gate. With springy steps, I walk along the paved path between Mum’s pink and white hydrangeas, not stopping until I reach the marble stairs.
The house casts its two-storey shadow on me. I can almost feel the weight of the white walls, windows and balconies. But even this doesn’t seem so heavy that I can’t bear it.
I step through the glass-paned, cassette-paneled front door, which closes softly behind me. I’m taking off my shoes when the tap of my mother’s slippers echoes from upstairs, chilling my happily rolling thoughts.
I wait for her to scold me. True, I’m late, but yesterday I did the dishes and laid out the clothes…
She appears in the stairwell. She’s wearing a elegant, loose-fitting sweater, her tight leggings are slightly off her thighs. It was a perfect fit a month ago – just a hint of how much weight she’s lost since Dad died. Her make-up is still perfect, her hair is in a neat ponytail down her back, the shine of her French fake nails is a sign she’s had a manicure today. Her eyes remain dark and piercing.
“Where the hell have you… been for so long?” Her sharp voice is suddenly tamed by dismay. “Why the glee?”
I am indeed smiling. Since when? I need to wipe it off my face right now… But I can’t. Maybe because I don’t really want to. Let her see that no matter how angry she is with me, I won’t let it get me down.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Her face twists with curiosity as I smile wider. She’s no longer in control!
“Try me.” Her mouth twitches upwards. I can almost see her lining up her reasoning behind her poker face, so that whatever answer I come up with, she can attack with the appropriate weapon.
“I had a date.”
Her eyes widen, but shining with genuine curiosity.
“You must really tell me about it! Every little detail.” With light steps, she walks into the dining room, sits down at the mahogany table and kindly beckons me to join her. Her troubled wrinkles soften and the shadow of grief fades from her face.
Nostalgia takes over. She took me to the cinema two years ago, or maybe it was three… That was the last time we talked about anything besides school. Laughter tickles my throat. Maybe things will change for the better.
I sit down opposite of her. It’s as if I’m taking my place as a new person, in a new life, with the mere memory of Devin wrapped around me in a protective shell that prevents anything bad from happening to me.
“So how did you meet him?”
“I saw him yesterday in the library and took an instant liking to him.”
“So that’s why you were late yesterday.” She winks. “What does he look like? Is he handsome?”
“Very. Muscular, but not overdone. Elegant.” I blush at the memory. “I was looking for a book and he helped me find it. When he handed it to me, our hands touched and… I got very nervous. So embarrassed that I left there my library card, and she brought it to my school today. Then he asked me out for coffee, we talked…”
“Did it go well?”
“Very. He’s kind and thoughtful. Like he really cares about me. Guess what, tomorrow’s his day off and he’s meeting me again!”
“Day off?” She frowns. “He works besides school?”
“Well… He’s not in school anymore.”
“So he’s older than you.” Her sincere smile turns into a fake grin. “How many years are we talking about?”
The shame is a thorn lump in my gullet.
“A few…” I look away, my knees pressed together under the table, my back arching.
“So, if I understand it correctly, this boyfriend of yours is an adult…” She leans up on the table, rests her chin on her fist, glares down at me from under her long lashes. “…Right?”
I swallow, but the stinging lump clings to my throat with a thousand needles.
“Oh, my dear…” She sighs, her voice dripping with pity wrapped in kindness. “Don’t get carried away.”
My held-back tears hurt.
Please, don’t go on! Let me be happy a little longer! As soon as I go up to my room, I’ll figure it out myself…
“Look at you! Shabby boys’ clothes, greasy hair, excess weight… And he’s elegant, neat and athletic. Did it ever occur to you why he was talking to you?”
I bite my lip. Hard. The pain keeps me in the present, distracts me from the ache in my soul. The anguish swells inside me like a tide. It starts in the middle, then gradually floods my whole body, from my ears to the tips of my toes.
Please… Don’t say it!
“Because you’re easy prey. He sees the contrast between you and he wants to exploit it. He needs you only for that. And only for that time.
“No… You weren’t there. You don’t understand anything!” I say, but mostly I’m just trying to convince myself.
“Oh yes, I do understand. And so do you, you just don’t like what you’re hearing. I’m your mother, and as your mother, it’s my duty to warn you. For your own good.”
For my own good…
I am immersed in the memory of his touch, in the depth of his black eyes.
Do not get carried away.
Same time, same place?
He needs you only for that.
Only for that… Would that be so bad? At least someone wants me that way.
Who would fuck a pig? – Dad’s voice rings in my ear as clear as if he were standing right behind me.
I swallow my tears – its getting harder to hold back. But I have to hold on. Just a little longer.
Her determined gaze waits for a response, just so she can speak her truth over and over again, humiliate me.
I stand up without a word.
She raises an eyebrow defiantly – If you flee now, you admit defeat.
I agree. But I would rather retreat quietly than give her the pleasure of seeing me cry again.
I shoulder my bag and head up the stairs.
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