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Tears formed and her voice cracked, “I’m scared.”
I guess I was getting to see another vulnerable side of her. I understood this one. That’s why I quietly admitted, “Me too.”
For the years Lorenzo had her, Elle fought to keep her spirit. Now our spirits were trying to join—bond—on a level I’d never even conceived of before. The experience was liberating and terrifying. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when she left the bed. I was at the beginning of the road of turmoil, which Elle had to walk to find inner peace after her abusive past, but every roadblock was worth it. I treasured every second with her because every second meant I got to get closer to her spirit’s flames. It was fuel for my own hunger for life.
Slowly getting out of bed, I stared out the open door. Beyond it was Elle, with the sheet around her shoulders, running from me…
As her blonde hair blew in the wind, I thought of the Steel Stallions emblem. Our symbol of freedom. A stallion’s mane, blowing in the wind, just like our bikes.
Watching Elle race to the seawall, the sheet blowing in the breeze, I knew she was following Pops’ advice, so I didn’t chase. I didn’t yell. I only inhaled the breeze that was helping her soar and breathed in the hope and inspiration in her wake.
She was still glorious when she finally sat on that wall, staring at a horizon that was like our future: unknown.
When I took a seat next to her, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Can I hold you?”
She cried, “Please,” and fell into my embrace.
Staring at the sun in the sky, I told her, “You are a Life Warrior, Elle, and as precious as they come.”
She shook in my arms as she cried…
Leaning my head to the top of hers, I swore, “I made you a promise. One I feel honored to get to keep.” She continued sobbing, so I held her tight. “It’s real, Elle, what’s happening between us. I swear it, baby.”
With no more words needing to be shared, we both sat there, finding the courage to face demons from her past. The quiet moment was welcomed by both of us.
Once calm, she asked, “Can I sing you another song?”
That question was like God himself asking if it was okay to bless me. So, I answered, “Only if you want me to fall in love with you.”
Again, that incredible mouth parted as she peered up at me. “I do,” she whispered, before resting against my chest, looking at the vast water in front of us.
The song she gifted me with was “Up To The Mountain” (MLK Song) by Patty Griffin. It had a gospel and folk feel as she sang about trying to have faith while living during a time in her life that made her so tired. Elle’s voice rang out across the water as she sang about the beauty in the peaceful valley that she wasn’t sure she would ever find, even though she knew it was there. Her voice strengthened with pain and hope, sending chills throughout my whole body.
She didn’t stop this song of mercy, even when doors started opening behind us.
People stayed silent as this angel sang, praying for God to continue leading the way.
Then, her sweet fingers tenderly patted my chest as if telling me that I—the murdering biker—was the answer to that very prayer.
I had never felt as cherished and needed as I did that magnificent day.
Tears dripped from both of our eyes as the song ended. We both stared at the sun’s reflection in the water, baptizing our spirits that we had fought to keep alive, each in our own way.
As doors closed behind us—everyone giving us privacy—Pops kissed the tops of our heads, then sat on the wall next to Elle. He was wiping under his eyes but never failed to be his humorous self. “You guys ain’t gonna jump, are ya?”
Elle and I chuckled, possibly both appreciating the needed reprieve.
I sighed. “Nah. Just treading unknown water, Pops.”
He blew out a breath while observing the water. “Maybe that’s just it. Don’t tread. Pick a direction… and swim.” He shrugged as if those were merely simple words, not solid advice.
Quietly, Elle admitted, “I don’t know how to swim.”
He shrugged again while trying to sound philosophical. “That’s the beauty. You can learn—”
She shook her head while pulling from my chest. “No. Literally. Lorenzo refused to have me taught.”
