DYSON
Ava had been gone for a few hours. Hell, it could’ve been ten for all I knew.
I’d finished working on my bike. I walked over to my tool cabinet and grabbed what remained of my vodka. Tilting the bottle up to my mouth, I hammered the last few swigs back. After wiping my mouth with my rag, I walked back over to my bike and got on.
Before I could fire it up, a voice caught my attention.
“What are you doing, bro?”
I turned and looked at Chance. He stood there with my mom, the both of them scowling at me.
“What’s it look like? I’m going for a ride.”
My brother scoffed and walked towards me. “Like hell you are. You’ve been drinking all God damn day.”
He stopped a few feet away from me and pointed at the empty bottle of alcohol. By that time, my mother stood next to him.
“Dyson,” she began, wrapping her arm around my brother’s torso. “Don’t be ridiculous. Come inside and sleep it off.”
I looked at both of them, scoffing and shaking my head.
“Get out of my way.”
Just then, my father came around the side of the garage, appearing in the entrance.
“Jesus Christ,” I groaned. “What is this—a fucking family intervention?”
Wordless, my dad walked over and joined my brother and my mother.
“Get off the bike, son. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Is that what you want?”
I leaned over the front of it, crossing my arms and propping them up on the grips. “What I want is to be left alone, so I can go for a ride and think.”
No sooner had I finished saying that than my brother stepped in front of the motorcycle.
“You aren’t going anywhere, Dyson.”
I chuckled, sat up and started the engine. When I gunned the throttle, a high-pitched whine filled the interior of the garage. Mom and Dad raised their hands to their head, covering their ears.
Chance never moved.
“Get out of the way, Chance! So help me, I’ll run you over.”
Chance shrugged and shook his head. “If you want to get out of this garage, that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do!”
I nodded, revving the throttle one more time as a final warning. “Get out of the way, Chance! I’m not telling you again!”
My brother raised his chin, crossed his arms and shook his head.
He left me with no choice.
I started the bike and headed straight for him. At the last instant, he jumped out of the way. I skidded out of the garage, nearly losing control before standing it up and revving the throttle.
“Asshole!” I heard my brother yell from behind.
At the same time, I heard the voices of my parents. As a group, they all yelled at me to come back, pleading with me not to take off. But that’s the only thing I wanted to do.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve been down the streets near my home. Hundreds. Thousands? I knew them like I knew my own name - every groove in the road, every turn and dip. That was my gift. No one could remember a surface like me.
It was my edge.
I weaved in and out of traffic, not caring about traffic lights or stop signs along the way. About halfway through town, I noticed a cop sitting in the parking lot of a strip mall. I gunned it, going from fifty to eighty in a matter of a few seconds. Like I hoped, he saw me. The next time I looked in my rear view mirror, I saw the telltale blue and red flashing behind me.
I smiled, and leaned down over my bike, becoming one with it. The streetlights and restaurants streaked by like urban lightning in my peripheral vision. Shifting again, I gunned the throttle, escaping the bright lights of the city. Within a matter of minutes the lights on the police car disappeared into the night.
I sat up, savoring the victory for a minute or so.
The bike hummed beneath me, beckoning me to push it once again. This was what it felt like to be free. Nothing standing in the way of me and my need for speed. This was what I lived for, and while I ripped across the open highway, I realized what the team was doing to me.
I felt like I was dying.
Just then, my cell phone vibrated inside the pocket of my jeans. I slowed the bike, eventually bringing it to a stop. I’d said what I had to say to her. I meant it. She was better off without me. No matter what she had to tell me in this text, I had no doubt about my feelings.
I reached in, pulling out the phone and flipping it over. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed that it wasn’t Ava at all.
It was my God damn mother.
I squeezed my jaw tight, throwing the phone as hard as I could. “Fuck!”
It smashed against the ground, splitting into pieces.
Without wasting another second, I gunned the throttle, leaving a trail of dust and gravel behind me. I shifted, faster and faster, accelerating quicker than I had yet. Before long, the speedometer reached one hundred miles an hour. I cranked the throttle again, shifting it into the highest gear. One hundred five, one hundred ten, the speed came faster and faster with each second.
And then, with one last crank on the gas, the bike exceeded one hundred twenty miles an hour. With nothing between me and the road to Mount Baldy, I turned off the headlights and lowered my head, screaming at the top of my lungs. At last free, alone with the speed that fueled me, I ripped across the open road in the darkness and into the unknown.
It was the last thing I remembered.
AVA
I’d returned home, determined to put Dyson out of my mind for good.
I still had the issue of telling Simon about his school, and I owed it to him not to put it off any longer. And so, when he arrived home that afternoon, I greeted him at the front door. After getting an update on how his day went, I decided to just get it over with as soon as possible.
“Simon, honey,” I began, grabbing a couple of glasses from the cupboard in the kitchen. “Would you like a snack?”
I turned just in time to see him plop down on the sofa and pick up his tablet. “No, thank you.”
“All right, what would you like to drink?” I asked.
“Um, some orange juice please.”
After getting it out of the refrigerator, I filled his glass. Once I did, I looked at my empty one for a moment, feeling like I needed something else besides juice to settle me down.
Vodka.
Reaching into the freezer, I pulled out the seldom used bottle and cracked it open. Not the best parenting strategy, I knew, but life wasn’t perfect and neither was I. After a healthy three second pour, I filled the remainder of the glass with orange juice and put everything away.
Exiting the kitchen, I took a quick sip of my drink and winced.
That would do.
“Here you are, sweetheart,” I said, extending the glass of orange juice to Simon. “How was school today?”
He took the glass from me and immediately took a drink of the juice. After he finished, he placed it down on the table in front of him. “Okay.”
“Good, that’s good,” I muttered, taking another gulp of the liquor-infused drink in my hand. It burned my throat as it slid down. I needed it to warm the rest of me.
Come on, kick in already…
I walked around the table and sat on the couch, opposite from his position. Engrossed in his game, Simon didn’t look up. I exhaled, chewing my lip while I tried to figure out the best way to begin. With each second that passed, sitting there in silence wasn’t doing me any good. I took another healthy gulp and shook my head, placing my drink down on the table.
“Simon, honey,” I began, turning towards him. “There’s something very important you and I need to talk about.”
Distracted by his game, Simon listened to me with halfhearted interest.
“Uh huh,” he muttered.
I smiled, stretching my body across the couch and reaching towards him. A split second later I took the tablet from his hand and turned it off, placing it on the table in front of me.