Letting Go...(a short story)

Challenges, challenges, challenges.

I asked for one and oh boy did I get one.  I sent out a ‘what should my next blog topic be’ question to the net and I received a very, very unexpected request.  The gauntlet has been thrown and I, being the brave soul that I am, shall attempt to pick it up and run with it (does one run with gauntlets or is there a fear of poking one’s eyes out?).  I decided on a short story.  Hope you appreciate the effort.  Enjoy (if you can).

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The fear had settled low in my belly.  It was a living breathing thing.  It quivered and shook me from inside.  I swallowed but that was a bad idea for the overwhelming need to throw up only somehow became emphasized.    Why had I thought this was a good idea?  Had the past not taught me anything at all?  But the opportunity had been just far too tempting.  It was final; I was my own worst enemy.

Blowing out a pent up breath I headed out the bathroom, down the dark hall and wound my way through the crowded restaurant.  Humanity seemed to be teaming in all corners of the smallish bar to the point where a polite ‘excuse me’ wasn’t going to be the passport to freedom.  No, one had to apply the slight ‘shove’ and ‘pardon’ muttered under the breath with a glare.  Then people realized you meant business.

I approached the table and I guess the petrification that I felt shone clearly upon my face.

“Don’t do it if you’re really that scared.”

Swigging back the dregs of the drink I had been nursing for over two hours, I somehow hoped that the melted ice water would fortify my resolve; I eyed the pretty blond who sat there ensconced in the arms of her husband.   “When have I ever backed away from a challenge, regardless of how stupid it is?”

“Good point.  Try to have fun.” 

I turned, walking away from the couple, once again elbowing and muttering.  There was a distinct air of doom hanging over me.

The night was warm, not too humid which was nice and the air smelled like cigarettes, the acrid tang of beer and a whole range of different foods that perfumed the area.  It was a Saturday night in the city, the summer was upon us and people were taking ample advantage.  Music blared from car windows as well as speakers set up outside of the strip of bars and clubs that pretty much lined the whole block.  I wanted to hail one of the many taxis that were waiting for passengers and go home but that wasn’t to be.

I heard a beep beep and looked to the right.  He stood there leaning next to what I considered my arch enemy, a lethal looking motorcycle.  I didn’t know enough about them to say what type it was.  I just knew it to be big, shiny and yes, mean looking.  The handsome man who leaned casually against it was very much the same sans mean although at first I hadn’t thought he was that personable.  He still wasn’t actually but after knowing him for a bit I knew that he was quiet by nature.  May be the bike would ultimately be the same way, different then I had always assumed?  Probably not.

He straightened as I approached, trying to at least appear to him as if I was confident.  “Okay let’s do this,” I said in what sounded to me as an over bright squeaky voice.

“You’re sure, right?”  He had straightened to his full height, a lopsided grin flittering across his lips.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”  I blew out a frustrated breath. 

“Because your skin looks slightly green.”

I couldn’t even be mad at him for that assessment.  He was probably correct.  “Doesn’t matter, let’s just do this.”

Reaching behind him, he produced a helmet, a big black monstrosity that I eyed with a mixture of disdain and fear.  Disdain simply because it was so unwieldy that I had to wonder if it would do much to protect my noggin.  Fear because I knew that the need to wear such a thing was directly related to what I was about to do.

He reached out, hooked a finger around one loop of my jeans and drew me close.  Proximity to the man wasn’t something I was looking for.  He made me nervous, much like the bike.  Both had destructive powers far beyond my understanding.  Resisting the urge to gulp audibly, I allowed him to slip the helmet over my head and proceeded to affix the chin strap.  I waited patiently commanding myself not to fidget.  “You nervous because of the bike or…?”  He asked in a low voice, his fingers brushing my chin.

I wanted to push him away, badly.  “I’m fine.”  I was pleased that my voice didn’t quiver.

He released me, tapped the top of the helmet and said with a small affectionate smile, “cute.”

Right, that’s precisely how I wanted to be perceived, cute.  Fleetingly I considered barking but decided against it.  He probably thought I was some weirdo to begin with. 

He put on his own helmet, and then straddling the bike he straightened it from its relaxed position.  After settling down onto the leather seat, he looked at me, only his eyes visible.  Reaching out one gloved hand palm up, he murmured, “come on little girl.” 

The flutters in my stomach were now more like a thousand moths on speed.  Putting my hand in his I tried to at least get onto the blasted thing without seeming awkward or falling off.  The bike itself was gigantic, or so it seemed.  Black, dark blue and silver it gleamed even at night.  It looked…deathly.  I fleetingly wondered if I shouldn’t have created a Last Will and Testament then remembered that I had nothing to leave anyone, so I was straight.

“Ducati,” I over enunciated. 

“Nice, yea?”

“Sure.” 

He chuckled at my rueful tone.

I sat there, slightly elevated behind him not having a clue as to what I was supposed to do with my hands or arms.  The real option, I realized with a bit of alarm, was to either grab him around the waist or wrap my arms about him.  Neither seemed viable.  I wasn’t into intruding on other people’s personal bubble.

He must have sensed my discomfort.  “Sweetie, unless you want to go flying off, you may want to grab on.”

“To what?” I asked a bit frustrated.

“Me.”

Oh, well there it was the okay for personal bubble intrusion.  I still wasn’t pleased.  Tentatively I put one hand on his shoulder, barely applying pressure.

I heard him chuckle again as the bike came to life beneath us.  Many of the folks either strolling by or loitering around close were now openly staring, making me grateful for the helmet which shielded the blush.  I also didn’t like unwanted attention.

Due to the ruckus the bike was making, he had to raise the volume of his own voice as he suggested that I hold on a little tighter.  Scowling I increased the pressure on his shoulder.  With a sigh he reached around pulling my hand off his shoulder and down to his slim waist, placing it there with a bit of pressure.  “This is probably safer.”  I said nothing, feeling awkward.  “In fact,” he pulled the same hand around further till he could place it near the front of his stomach.  “This is the safest.  Just do the same thing with the other arm.”  He spoke to me patiently, as if I was a child.

“I don’t think I like this.”  I said, stiffening visibly, trying to strain my torso away from him.

“You may not but it’s the better than the alternative…”  He trailed off, leaving it to my imagination.  I could near the amusement leaching out of his voice, “look, I know you have an aversion to touching me but…”

“That’s not true.” I said softly, wondering if he even heard.  He had.

“You sure act like it.”

“I’m sorry if it appears so.”  I leaned forward, commanding my body to just let go.  For some reason, it wasn’t listening.  He sighed again. 

“Fine,” he said as he revved the engine.  “Place your feet up here,” he indicated below, which I did, “off we go.”

Before I could blink twice he pulled away slowly into oncoming traffic.  By the time we made our way down to the end of the block, I thought to myself, this isn’t so bad, and almost convinced myself thus until we hit the onramp to the freeway.  That was when he decided to ‘let go’ and accelerated.  The gasp that came from my lips quickly blew away and without any further thought of propriety I plastered myself onto his back.  I heard his chuckle and responded by digging my fingers into his belly which produced a satisfying wince.  That would teach him to take too much enjoyment in my discomfort.

We sped alone as he weaved in and out of traffic almost effortlessly.  I would have admired his skills had I not been so very petrified.   I held my breath, keeping my face buried into the broad planes of his back, the leathery smell of his jacket of little comfort.  I wanted off and I wanted off right at that second but my pride wouldn’t let me scream out the demand.

When I was a child, my cousin took me for a ride on his new (to him) bike.  As we puttered along a very uneven road, I fell off the back of the bike.  He hadn’t noticed even.  I sat there stunned and in pain while watching him zoom off.  That was probably why I had such a ridiculous fear of that particular mode of transportation.  I had gruesome visions of myself in bloody mashed pieces on the pavement.  Not a good visual at all.

Eventually the cars thinned out, the mostly city scape gave away to trees, quiet fields and long empty stretches of road.   I would have noticed this had my eyes been open.  I was petrified.  I barely noticed that he had stopped since my face was pressed into his back.  The shivering wasn’t from our closeness but out of primal fear.  When he abruptly stood up, I thought he was doing some sort of trick or daredevil stunt to which I was planning to lay into him but with one look about I realized we were standing by the side of a quiet country road.  Nothing but the sounds of crickets could be heard. 

“Did the thing break down?”  I asked, eyeing the darkness around us.  The only illumination was the big round low hanging full moon.  Surely these sorts of nights literally begged for werewolves to make an appearance.   I had seen American Werewolf in London!

“It’s not a thing, it’s a bike.”

“Whatever, are we stuck?”

“No, I stopped, on purpose.”

“And why is that?”  I sat perched on the bike still fearfully looking around.

“You know you really should work harder on that poker face.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

He blew out another sigh.  He did that a lot around me.  “Anyhow, I stopped because I wanted to talk to you.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.  “I didn’t do it.”  I said automatically, scrambling down from the bike, almost tripping.

“Wow, you sure are quick to defend yourself and that too without knowing the allegations.”

“I still didn’t do it.”  I said stubbornly, standing on one side of the bike that radiated heat while he stood on the other, legs apart, arms crossed.  He didn’t look happy. 

“Relax.  I just wanted to request something.”

“What?”  I eyed him distrustfully.

“Can you please try to enjoy the ride?”

This startled me.  “I am.”

“I never pegged you as a liar.”  He said, frowning.  I said nothing.  “It’s apparent you’ve been terrified since I suggested you take a ride with me, and the half-moon wounds on my chest from your nails can attest to this fact.  I just want you to give this a chance.  It’s not so bad if you just let go and try.”

This was the story of my life.  People telling me to let go and me never quite being able to do so.  It was a control thing.  I stood silently looking into the darkness off to my left.  He was right of course.  I always allowed my fears to rule me and make things worse than they were.  This applied to all aspects of my life, professional and personal.  How many times had I been told that I needed to keep a more ‘open’ mind?  How many times had I actually done that?  Rarely. 

He was in fact more than right.  Damn it.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”  One eyebrow quirked in response.

Throwing my hands up, I snapped back with a scowl, “I said okay, and I mean it.”

“Really convincing.”

Shrugging I got back on the bike, looking straight ahead.  “Don’t sigh.”  I snarled.

He paused in the act of swinging one long leg over the metal beast.  “What?”

“You sigh, a lot.”

“Do I?  I hadn’t noticed.”

“I have.” 

Leaning in a little too close for my comfort, he asked in a low voice, “What else have you noticed about me?”

I was glad at that moment that the helmet had never come off therefore he couldn’t see the blush that suffused my face.  Oh heck, why did I have to open my big mouth?

“Other than the fact that you have no respect for personal bubble space,” I pushed him back with one finger, “nothing.” 

“Okay, if you say so.”  Clearly he didn’t believe me.

Soon we were back on the road but this time I decided to take his advice.  May be it was time to just let go a little.  Taking a deep breath I opened my eyes wide and tilted my head to the right.  There was large open land and about 200 feet in the distance were trees, big, dense and ominous.   They zoomed by in a blur and for that moment I was glad to have the solid frame of the man who I was holding onto in front of me.  He seemed solid in all that uncertain darkness. 

Then as we turned a bend, there it was…the moon again.  It had been there all along of course, I knew this but somehow it startled me for it seemed so much lower to the ground.  And now that I got a good look, I had to admit that it was simply gorgeous.  I gasped, this time not out of fear.  Loosening the grip of death I had upon him my head went right to left, eyes taking in all the details.  The trees no longer seemed frightening; the bike even felt more like a soothing friendly familiar creature than a death trap.  I had no doubt about skills of the man who drove the metal beast with such expertise, as if an extension of his own body.  I felt his shoulder muscles tightening and then loosen with every turn; I felt the leashed power and couldn’t help but be slightly jealous.  Not Impressed but jealous.  I realized sadly that I had no mastery over anything, much less the magnificent scrap of iron and pure power that we were riding upon. 

May be I could learn?

The thought came out of the blue, streaking through my mind.  I instantly laughed at the absurdness of it, a sound that seemed to bubble up from within me.  What a crazy, ridiculous, improbable idea. 

He must have heard me for his voice wafted back as clear as day, “finally enjoying yourself?”

At first I nodded, and then I laughed again for I had forgotten that he couldn’t see me, “yes.”  It came out breathy yet excited.  “I love this.”

We raced along gaining speed.  I knew it was reckless but he gave me a sense of comfort, as if as long as he was with me nothing would happen, we were indestructible.  I knew I was kidding myself yet I couldn’t remember the last time I trusted someone like this.

May be I could learn.

The thought had stuck. 

Free.  When had I felt thus?  Was this what they had all meant when they had advised that I let go?  How had I missed out on this for so long?   Yes, I could do this.  May be even not just when it came to riding a bike?  But this was a good start to me.

It was over before I knew it, much to my disappointment as well.  We were back at the place the adventure had begun, where I had first faced my fears.  And yes, shockingly enough I had conquered one for a change. 

He got off first.  I sat there smiling under the helmet, giddy.  He couldn’t see it but I was. 

“Look at me,” he said.

I turned my head and watched as he reached forward to undo the helmet and pull it off.  He looked at me for a second, then chuckled.

“What?”

“Your hair…” 

I peered into the mirror of the bike and blew out a breath.  Yes, I definitely wasn’t the sort of person who would take off her helmet only to have her long silky tresses come tumbling down in perfect curls as she shook them out.  My luck would never be that good.  Mine looked like it had been administered a good voltage of electricity as it went in every direction but down.   “Of course,” I muttered.  But the adrenaline from what we had just done was still coursing through me.  I wasn’t going to let this get me down.  “Doesn’t matter,” I pushed him away and got off.  Turning I ran one finger over the warm leather of the recently vacated seat, trailing it up to the closest handlebar, almost lovingly.  “It’s incredible how one minute you have no interest in something, and the next you want to know everything about it.”  I said this almost wistfully, softly, completely distracted.

He said nothing at all.  Not that I had expected him to.  I was musing to myself.  But still, after a large enough pause I looked over my shoulder half way expecting him to have left me standing there alone.  But no, he was there, gazing at me with his head tilted to one side as if he were trying to figure something out.  He too had taken off his helmet; his hair of course was perfect.  I scowled.  “What?”

“You’re right.”

“About what?” I asked, for a second losing my train of thought.  I placed the palm of my hand on the leather again; needing support.  The bike would do.   He so made me nervous. 

“What you just said.”

I didn’t respond.  Something in his eyes told me we weren’t really referring to the same thing.  I didn’t need clarification.  I feared enlightenment to some degree.  Probably something else I should change about myself.  Not right then of course.  Turning my back to him I stared down at the bike.  Right, I would learn to ride. 

He stepped closer.  I could feel the warmth of his body close behind me.  Naturally I stiffened.  “You clearly haven’t completely let go.”  I still held my silence.  “Was it only during the ride that you could?”

I nodded, “and now?” he asked.

I shook my head.  Taking a deep breath I finally squeaked out, “do you know anyone who can teach me to ride this?” 

“You liked it that much?”

“Yes, I really did.”

“I’ll give you a name,” he said, “however I can assure you, you’ll have to turn and face him every once in a while.” 

This startled me.  He was laughing again.  “I’ll do that, with him.”

“Him, will be me and I will make sure you know how to really let go.”

So saying he walked away, leaving me to stare down at the motorcycle.