Ride
Monday was fine; everyone was excited for our trip this weekend. We were set for Sunday so Mike and I wouldn't have to miss any work.
We sat around the lunch table. I bit at my apple, sipped at my lemonade.
Angela whispered to me, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I'm just tired."
"Didn't sleep well?" She asked.
"No, that's the thing. I slept great. I just know I'm not going to sleep well tonight." I paused, thinking my next words carefully. How much could I tell Angela? "I have these... nightmares."
"I'm sorry." Her face was apologetic, sincere. "Can I ask about what?"
I kept my voice low. "About him. The break-up. I keep replaying it over and over."
"You should write a letter," Jessica volunteered from Angela's other side.
Angela and I turned to glare at her.
"What?" She asked defensively. "I wasn't listening in. It's open space. Anyway, that's how I got over a bad break-up."
Her eyes slid into an icy glare across the table, shooting daggers at Mike.
"What kind of letter?" Angela asked.
"I used it as a goodbye for all the things I couldn't say. And then I burned it in a special spot close to us. It felt really cathartic, you know? Like a cord being cut." She paused. "And then I burned all the stuff he gave me."
"I remember that; it made the paper," Angela commented. "You ended up burning like three trees down. They had to call the fire department."
"Yeah, I don't recommend that part. You could just throw it away."
"Or get threatened to be imprisoned for arson," Angela said with a smile.
"A goodbye better," I echoed. "That's actually really helpful, Jess. Thanks."
She beamed. "See? I'm more than just a pretty face."
Then Lauren demanded her attention and she turned away from us.
I picked at the lid of my lemonade container and started drafting a letter in my head.
Tuesday was the big day. I walked into the garage, in awe of the fully assembled bikes before us, and added ten years to Julie's hypothetical age.
She grinned. "I'm middle-aged! Cool."
Now I regretted taking the motorcycles out of the trash heap.
Jules hovered around me anxiously as i sat on the bike. "Okay. So, where's your clutch?
I pointed to the lever on my left handlebar.
"Great. Your brake?"
"Right foot."
"No, use the one by your right hand."
"They're both my brakes, are they not?" My legs were getting tired, holding up the weight of the motorcycle. "It's not staying up."
"It will when you're moving," Jules promised. "Use the brake on your hand; we'll use the one by your foot when you get more adept. Alright?"
"Fine," I sighed.
"Throttle?"
I twisted the right grip.
"Gearshift."
Left calf.
"Great. I think you've got all the basic parts down. Now you just have to get moving."
I suddenly felt nauseous. It was all very real.
"Bells? You turned green on me. Are you okay?" Julie knelt in front of me to make eye contact.
I nodded slowly, focusing on my breathing.
"Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?" She asked.
I shook my head.
"Why don't we start with me driving and you riding with me? You can watch what I do and maybe you'll feel a bit more confident."
She gave me an encouraging smile. I nodded and moved back so she could settle in front of me.
Jules took the driver's spot easily, as if she'd done this a dozen times. She started the bike easily, walking me through every step. The bike sounded angry and hungry, the sound making me jump and cling on to her tighter.
"It sounds a lot worse than it is, I promise." She turned to speak to me. "Just watch and learn, okay? It just looks scary."
She took off like a bat out of Hell. I clung to her as we wound around the streets. The scenery around us was just a green and brown blur. My heart was thundering in my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My face pressed into Julie's back. I could feel myself grinning like a madman.
"Bells, watch!"
I opened my eyes and tried to watch her hands move in time with her legs, wheeling between gears in time with braking and accelerating.
I couldn't tell how much time had passed, but we eventually stopped back at the truck. She helped me off of the bike.
My hands were shaking. I showed her as I focused on breathing.
She grinned and sandwiched my hands between hers. "Think that's enough bikes for you today?"
I groaned. "But I didn't even get to really try--"
"You've got this on Thursday. I'm sure of it."
I did, in fact, not have it on Thursday.
My hands were shaking around the grips.
Jules watched me nervously. "If you're not ready, Bells, it's okay. I promise. We don't need to rush."
"I've got this." My stomach disagreed. I was going to vomit as I drove down the road. At least nobody was here besides Julie to see it; she'd chosen a back road to drive down.
"Clutch," Julie instructed. I did as told. "Alright, now don't let go of it. Imagine it's a live grenade, and you're holding it down so it doesn't explode. Got it?"
My hand was already hurting from how tightly I was gripping it.
"Do you think you can kick-start it?"
"No. I'll fall over if I move my foot." The thing was damn heavy.
"Alright, I got it. Just don't let go of the clutch."
She kicked it for me, the motorcycle lunging forward. I immediately tipped over, Jules catching me and the bike before it landed on top of me.
"You good?"
I nodded, breathing hard.
"Alright. Plant your heels in, I'm going to try again."
Four more tries and the motorcycle sounded hungry. I imagined it growling for blood.
"Alright, try the throttle. Very lightly. Don't forget the clutch."
I twitched the right handle. The bike snarled beneath me. My hands were white as bone over the grips and I was sure to pass out.
"Do you remember how to put it in first gear?"
"Yep."
"Alright, you got this." When I hesitated, she added, "Left foot."
I glared at her and kicked the gear shift down a notch.
"Great! Now very gently ease up on the clutch." She was actively stepping back.
"Wait, you want me to let go of the grenade?" I asked, turning back to stare at her.
"Just a little at a time. That's how you move."
I steeled my resolve and tried to let go of the clutch just a tad. I moved about three feet before my hand cramped and I let go of the clutch entirely. The bike yanked itself forward and collapsed on top of me.
"Bells!" Julie was there in an instant, pulling it off of me. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I freaked out. Is the bike okay?"
"It's fine, you just let go of the clutch too fast. Stalled the engine. You're sure you're okay? No blood or bones?"
"No blood or bones," I agreed. "Can I try again?"
Julie grinned. "Sure thing."
She helped me back up and set everything up again, kick-starting it for me before hovering close by.
I had it this time. I could feel it. My hands shook slightly as I slowly released the clutch, moving forward at a comfortable pace. I picked up speed, pulse roaring just as loud as the motorcycle. The landscape flew by me. I itched toward kicking it in second gear, hitting the gas.
I was approaching a turn in the road.
I just turn the handlebars, right?
I overadjusted, turning it to an angle that laid the bike out and sent me flying. I saw the flashes of green and blue and then nothing. There was a dull crack as my head hit something.
I could hear Jules yelling and the roar of the motorcycle. I couldn't move, the damn bike growing on top of me.
It was suddenly removed, and Julie's face came into view. She picked something off of my face.
"OhmyGodAreyouokayI'msosorry!?" She yelled, the words forming into one giant rush. She looked frantic.
"Yeah," I said numbly. I blinked and tried to focus on her face. "Let's go again."
"I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No blood or bones," I said confidently, trying to sit up. I felt a rush of liquid start down my face.
"Plenty of blood; your forehead is split open. You're going to need stitches. Come on, before I call an ambulance."
I put my hand to my head, pulling it back to see the telltale deep red on my fingers. At least I couldn't smell it over the dirt and moss that covered me.
"Oh," I suddenly panicked. I could feel the anxiety mounting, the urge to get away. "I'm so sorry, Jules. Don't be mad. I can fix it."
"Bella, it's just blood. You don't have to apologize. I should have worked on it with you more. C'mon."
She helped me up, wrapping an arm around my waist and helping to lift me.
"The bikes," I reminded her in a small voice. I was still expecting her to be mad. Some sort of retaliation for my bleeding. Yelling, irritation, a snide comment, snapping.
"Right. Um, crap. Stay here."
Jules paused, looking between me and the truck. She froze for a moment before pulling her shirt over her head and handing it to me. "There, put some pressure on it."
I could smell the blood now. I felt nauseous but tried to focus on breathing through my mouth.
Julie jumped on my bike and rode it back to the car. She looked like a model, in the sports bra and jeans riding on the bike. I definitely didn't look that cool. I was shocked by how far I'd actually gotten. I'd made it a pretty solid distance before my accident.
She drove back quickly, helping me into the car before getting back into the driver's seat.
"Hospital," she murmured.
"We gotta ditch the bikes at your house. Can't risk them calling Charlie."
"Bella--"
"Seriously, Jules, I promise I'm okay. Head wounds just bleed a lot. We go to your house, drop off the bikes and get you a clean shirt, then head to the hospital."
"Fine," Julie tried gunning the truck and frowned when it whined in protest. "But seriously, you better not die."
"I won't, promise. I'm an easy bleeder."
Julie was still upset with me, frown intact, but she listened.
She's not upset with me, she's worried, I tried to remind myself. Jules would have no reason to be angry at me for an accident.
As she drove, I peeked out of the corner of my eye at her.
She really was beautiful. I kept noticing it. The thought kept catching me by surprise, not so much the fact of it but the intensity of the reminder. I couldn't help but keep noticing it. Looking at her felt different.
She looked older, not the thirties that we joked about, but maybe older than me. The last of the baby fat gone in her cheeks, now angular high cheek bones. The full lips and straight nose. The brows that always looked well-groomed and even. Eyelashes like feather-dusters and a really intense gaze. Flawless skin.
She wasn't a skinny little bean pole anymore, not the goofy kid I'd been forced to hang out with when we were children.
Jules noticed my staring. She shifted in the driver's seat. "You okay? Still conscious?"
"Yeah. I just noticed. Did you know you're sort of beautiful?"
Jules scoffed and grinned. "You might have a concussion, Bells."
"I'm serious."
"Well, then thanks. Sort of."
I smiled and returned my gaze to the passenger window. "You're welcome, sort of."
It took seven stitches to close the wound on my head. Jules held my hand the entire time. Dr. Gerandy was worried that I may have had a concussion, so Charlie opted to wake me up every two hours that night.
The adrenaline had wore off during the drive to the hospital, and the pain started to set in. After the sting of anesthetic, I was fine aside from the feeling of tugging at my scalp. Dr. Gerandy prescribed me some medication for the pain as well as antibiotics for whatever germs the wound was exposed to. My tetanus shot was but to date, so I didn't have to worry about that. He said I'd have to come back in a few days to get the stitches removed.
We'd lied and said I fell in the garage, and then fell down the hill while Jules was trying to guide me to the car.
Charlie bought it.
On Friday, the plans were finalized. Jules and I would take my car. Jessica would drive for Lauren, Tyler, and Mike. Angela would drive with Ben. Eric was somewhere in the mix.
We set up for the trip and everyone was ready to go.
I called Renée when I got home from work. Charlie had cooked dinner; he'd gotten into the habit of cooking for us when I was at Newton's. It was a welcome reprieve. He even did all the dishes.
Renée demanded details of my new social life. I told her the non-motorcycle habits of it; studying with Jules, the upcoming Port Angeles trip. In return, she told me about how she dropped her yoga class and has since taken up book club. Reading wasn't her thing but I kept my remarks to myself. She and Phil were planning a Disney vacation for their anniversary.
"You sound so much better, honey," she said cheerfully from the other end. "I'm so glad. Charlie and I have been so worried. You know you're always welcome if you want to come back."
"Thanks, Mom, but I think we've got it handled here." I smiled at Charlie as he held up my plate before setting it on the dining table. "Hey, Dad made dinner so I gotta go. Love you."
"I love you more. Email me!"
I hung up, feeling a little lighter. There was always this distance with Renée, like I had grown up with a friend rather than a parent.
The thought made me miss Esme.
I sat with Dad, complimenting the dinner. Roast chicken and a baked potato, he even steamed some broccoli.
"I've been leaning on you too much for the house work, Bells. I'm sorry. You're a teenager, you should be able to have fun with your friends. I don't want you to have to worry and babysit me." Charlie focused on his food as he said this, but his tone was remorseful. I knew he hated emotional talks.
I felt a little stab. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."
"I just want you to enjoy being a kid. You didn't get to do much of that growing up, and that's partially my fault. I'm sorry."
I nudged his foot under the table. "You didn't do so bad."
He smiled and met my eyes. "Yeah?"
I grinned back. "I'm going to go drink and go joy-riding in the truck now, since I get to be a teenager."
He coughed. "Okay maybe not--"
I laughed and we continued our meal in silence.
That night, alone in my room, I grabbed a notebook and pen. I sat at my desk and drafted my first letter. I'd decided each Cullen deserved a proper goodbye, not just the one who stabbed me the deepest.
With Renée in mind, I wrote to Esme first. My hand shook as I wrote the letter.
Esme, I knew what it was like to have a mother with you. I'd never been taken care of as a child, but you showed me the tender kindness and care that only a good mother could.
Thank you for loving me as your own.
I tore out the page and folded it into an envelope in my desk before heading to bed.