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“Gemma, are you okay?” Damon asks, his voice marred with worry. He’s on his own bike, and he looks mighty, mighty fine.
I nod, and when I’m ready, I pull in the clutch all the way and push down on the shifter to place it into first gear. I give the bike gas while slowly letting go of the clutch.
And I’m off—before Damon decides to stop me. I go easy at first to diminish the guilt that I feel toward Harvey.
I promised him.
And I blew it—my promise—into dust sand like that surrounding me, as I give the bike more gas to pick up speed.
That sound.
Nothing revs up my body quite like it. My heart races, beating like an instrument. Not even the beaming sun can cease the goosebumps awakening over my body.
The roar of the throttle is so vivid against my body that my promise flies right past me, along with the wind. Everything that’s happened these past few years temporarily leaves my mind.
The pain. The loneliness. The rejection.
Instead, I smile, my mind working overtime to keep up with the racing chaos that’s tumbling through me.
This.is.life.
And I can’t remember the last time I was this happy since the accident.
I’m as selfish as I’ve allowed myself to be in years. It’s all about me. And my needs. And my wants.
It’s selfish. Getting a job, traveling, walking. Selfish, selfish. When my boyfriend can barely walk. But I can and therein lies the problem.
I shake my head, hoping to clear my thoughts and be consumed by the rush.
Maybe I’m not in hell after all. Maybe I’m where I’m supposed to be. With whom I’m supposed to be. I look out for Damon, but he’s long gone. And suddenly I want to find him, race with him.
Thank him for bringing me here today.
I’m not even going as fast I should be, my fingers are still trembling, and I need to gather my wits. Instead, I enjoy the moment, the seconds that tick by.
I don’t want to go back. I’m here and here is all that matters.
The sun warms my face, my body. The wind pulls at my hair. And I can’t stop myself any longer: I push down the visor and rev the bike like my dad first taught me and quickly, too quickly, I barrel through the wind to catch up to Damon.
Damon’s signaling with his hands for me to slow down, but I ignore him. He doesn’t get it. What this bike represents for me. It’s more than just enjoying the ride.
After I lost my mom at eleven, I was the girl who loved to hang with the boys at school and do tricks and dares no other girls wanted to do.
Anything with height and speed. I was unstoppable. Broke my arm once for it.
As soon as I turned sixteen, my dad taught me how to ride a sports bike. We started off slow with a 250cc until I got my own 636cc in college. Gia thought I was nuts. She was the intellectualone, always reading non-fiction books to understand more about psychology. That was her passion.
I loved science too and reading fiction, but I also loved being outside. My dad and I spent so much of our time together doingboy stuff. Simply thinking about those memories makes me feel homesick.
Nothing, nothing made me feel closer to my mom after her death than risking fate and reaching so close to it. Even if she’s probably chastising me for my actions, at least I like to believe she cares, that she’s somewhere, watching over me.
It is, and has always been, the soothing balm that helped me cope with losing her. We all have our poison—this is mine.
Damon’s caught up and is now next to me. I see his helmet shake from side to side, and I don’t care.
Keep up or keep out.
I get lost in it. So lost. I’m so happy I’m afraid it’ll hurt my cheeks the next day. It’s magic and I don’t want it to end.
