Page 17 of Forever My Soldier

We walked toward it and she touched a hand to the seat.

“Best birthday present I ever bought myself.”

“You worked hard enough to earn it,” she remembered. “I swore it was a deathtrap.”

I laughed. “But you came around.”

When I treated myself to my motorcycle, I was young, reckless, and in love. It felt so good, so freeing to ride it, and all I wanted to do was ride it with Jenna. She was adamant at first, but eventually gave in and it became our favorite way to get around.

“I can’t believe you still have it,” she gushed, suddenly less concerned with meeting her mother, which wasn’t lost on me.

I could not give this damn thing up. I almost did after my first tour. I told my mom I didn’t want it anymore, that she could get it out of her garage and make some room in there for other crap. She wouldn’t hear of it, however, arguing I’d want it one day. Turned out, she was right. “It’s a piece of me,” I said, wanting to add just like she was, but I thought better of it. It was too soon for that.

I found it in the garage yesterday and gave it a spin. It felt great to be back on it, to feel the wind on my face. It brought me right back, quite the same as it was currently doing with Jenna.

Back then, I worked double shifts at a local Italian restaurant just to save up enough to buy it. That was, until my grandmother gave me the rest of what I needed for my eighteenth birthday. I couldn’t stop at just having a Harley-Davidson, though. No, it had to be the coolest ride around, so I treated myself to the Electra Glide, black with orange accents. It was everything I always wanted.

“It’s not safe,” Jenna pushed when I first asked her to ride with me on it. She would’ve been the first and last. Jenna was the only one whose arms I wanted wrapped around me as I went on adventures. I remembered our exchange as if it was yesterday.

Why couldn’t she see what an honor it was?

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot, her hip jutting out for emphasis. “I am not getting on that deathtrap. Do you know the statistics of motorcycle accidents?”

“There’s not going to be an accident.”

I tossed her the helmet and she tossed it right back.

“No, I’m not getting on that thing. Can’t we just take my car?”

“Your mother tracks your moves on the highway with that toll sticker like it’s a GPS tracker. I don’t want her watching our every move.” Then I realized she needed a little persuading, so I got off the bike, walked over to where she was standing and rubbed her shoulders. “Come on, princess, it’ll be fun.”

“I have fun playing Scrabble. Can’t we just do that?”

I shook my head. “All right, if you’re dead set against this, then I really don’t want to push you.” That was the last thing I wanted to do. So I backed off and went to get back on the bike when she grabbed my elbow.

I turned back around. “Wait,” she said.

“Don’t do it for me. We can take your car. It’s okay.”

Now, she shook her head. “Forget it. We’re riding that bike.”

“Why the change of heart?”

She swallowed hard. “I can be a bad girl, you know?”

I laughed. “I doubt it, but we can pretend you are for one night.”

She swatted my arm.

“You’ll be needing this,” I said, handing her the pink helmet I, once again, bought with her in mind.

She stared down at it like it wasn’t just a helmet. “At least it’s pink, that’s a plus.”

I got back on the bike and waited for her to get on, too. She did, and wrapped her arms around my waist, her delicate hands clinging to my torso. “You ready?” I asked.

I couldn’t see whether or not she nodded, only heard her answer, “Yes.”

Jenna’s voice startled me from my thoughts. I blinked back to the present and pushed aside the memories we shared.

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