Page 30 of Losing a Piece of Me

I slide the phone back into my pocket and fire up the bike. Something feels off-kilter inside of me as I head for home. I don’t want to go back yet; my bedroom will only be filled with last night’s memories.

Changing my route, I hang a right at the lights and pull into a parking stall in front of the bar. Home will still be there when I am good and ready to get back, but for now I just need to waste some time and distract myself.

A cold bottle of beer, already dripping with condensation, is placed in front of me in exchange for some wadded-up bills dug from the bottom of my pocket. I sit absentmindedly with the bottle in my hands, but don’t move to drink it or check out my surroundings.

“I thought you were too good for a place like this.”

My blood has been running hot all day, but it turns to ice at the sound of his voice. Instinctually, every muscle in my body tenses as adrenaline pumps through my veins.

I straighten my back and raise my shoulders, turning in the direction of his voice. He is sitting three stools down from me, with an empty stool and an older man, whom I don’t recognize, in between us.

Our eyes lock and a smile dances across his face as he scoops up his beer, with all the care and love of a parent picking up a beloved child, and sits in the empty stool next to me. “I’d like to buy my son a shot of whiskey.”

The bartender moves, but I stop her. “I don’t want any whiskey. It’s barely even noon, I’m not here to get drunk.”

“Then why’re you here?”

I study my dad. His unkempt dark hair is greasy and tangled, dangling out from under his dirty Ford hat like an old, dirty mop. Deep bags under his eyes cast shadows that are swallowed up by the wrinkles that have overtaken his face in the years since I last saw him.

“Just wasting some time.” The beer is still sitting uselessly in my hand, completely full. Looking at my dad, I don’t know if I want it.

“I heard that little bitch came back to town. You giving it to her again?” He raises his bottle to his lips, but waits to take a drink while he looks at me.

“How is that any of your goddamn business?”

A soft chuckle trickles from his mouth as he takes a long pull from the bottle.

He shakes his head and looks at the bar. “Are you ever going to fucking see it? You’re just as fucking blind as I was. You know that?”

I want to know what it is that he thinks I’m too blind to see, but I don’t ask. It’s all just some drunken mumblings from my alcoholic father. Nothing more.

It’s not worth it to stick around and finish my beer, so I leave it on the bar and push my barstool back. Before leaving, I lock eyes with my father and say, “If I ever hear you call her a bitch again, you won’t have to worry about how you’re getting home from the bar, because you will be leaving in a body bag. Or are you too blind to see that?”

I shove the door open and jump on my bike, cruising through the countryside instead of going home. Wind whips through my hair and across my skin as the roar of the motor cuts through the silence. The constant vibration of the motor helps to relax me, gradually teasing some of the tension out of my muscles.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t care, I just need to ride. I just want to get away from my father, from this town, from her.

She can run from me, so why can’t I run from her?

I guess the only difference is that she doesn’t care that I’m running from her.

The whole ride is spent in a daze, with no destination in mind. After some time, I park the bike next to the road and climb off. I walk to the edge of the small cliff and look down at the shallow water pooled at the bottom. A small trickle of water flows over the cliff’s edge and into the pool of water below. It isn’t much, but it hasn’t really rained in a while either.

Seated on the ledge, legs dangling over empty space, I feel my mind and body start to relax. I rummage through the sidesaddle of my bike and dig out a cigarette, which I light against the hot muffler.

The day’s events play through my mind. I think about Lex and how I shouldn’t have walked away from her. She felt something and I knew it. I saw it. Now she’s gone and I have no idea when, or if, I will see her again.

When I do, I will probably have to start all over again. Enough time will have passed that whatever I made her feel will be faded away. How many times can I do this?

“Striker, I don’t know if I can.” Lex peeks over the side and looks down at the water below.

A week of heavy storms has filled the pool below us to its brim, and the typically docile stream running over the side of the cliff is now nothing short of a waterfall, rushing over the edge to plummet into freefall.

“You’re not going to chicken out on me now, are you?”

She takes a step back and wraps her arms around her. “I don’t know, Striker. I mean, what’s down there? What if we land on a rock?”

I narrow my eyes on her, silently challenge her. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

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