Page 37 of Rushed: Christopher

I moved to stand next to Christopher. “Helmets,” I said as I pointed at the two helmets hanging off the handlebars. “Precious cargo,” I continued as I looked him up and down. “And the best damn teacher no amount of money can buy… my dad. Even if he hadn’t already been so safety conscious himself, my mother’s very creative threats of bodily harm if I ended up with even so much as a scratch made sure I knew the ins and outs of riding a motorcycle long before I even got on it.”

“Your dad taught you to ride motorcycles?” Christopher asked.

I nodded. “Ride them, fix them. This was his,” I said as I motioned to the bike. A pang of sadness came over me when I added, “We restored it together right after I left the army. The plan was to find another one to restore for me…” I fell silent as I thought about my parents.

Christopher’s arm came around me, and then he was leaning his head on my arm. His fingers twined with mine. No words were spoken, but he’d said a million things with the one little gesture.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

And with that, date number one commenced.

Spending time with Christopher was like watching the sun break through the darkest of storm clouds. As soon as I explained that we’d be able to talk to each other through the helmets’ built-in communication systems, he was off and running with the tour. Seeing the city through his eyes was unlike anything I’d expected. Of course, he knew about all the major tourist spots in the area, but his knowledge of the history and culture of each neighborhood that made up the city was amazing, especially considering he’d only spent a few of his last teenage years in Seattle.

We spent most of the morning slowly driving through the city and making a plan for the spots we wanted to check out on foot. When it came time to find some lunch, Christopher had suggested we take the ferry across the sound and check out some of the local cafes.

After a little bit of awkwardness when we were first seated at our table, we just fell into a conversation, which then led to another and another. Occasionally, there would be these little lulls where we just looked at one another.

Like now.

It wasn’t uncomfortable or weird. It was… easy. It was talking without talking.

“How was everything?” our waitress asked when she stopped by our table.

“Amazing,” Christopher said.

“Unbelievable,” I chimed in.

“How about some dessert?”

When we’d sat down, I’d noticed Christopher looking through the dessert menu, so I said, “Sure, that would be great.”

“Rush, no, I’m too full,” Christopher said.

“We’ll eat it slowly,” I responded with a grin. To the waitress, I said, “Can we have the lava cake? Two forks. Some more coffee would be great too.”

“Absolutely. Did you want ice cream with the cake?”

I looked pointedly at Christopher. He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Once she was gone, Christopher shook his head at me and said, “You’re a bad influence.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I responded. I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table, mirroring Christopher’s stance. It closed the distance between us considerably.

“How did you get your name?” Christopher asked. “Were you named after a character in a book or movie, or is it a family name?”

I laughed. “Hardly. My parents named me Rush because I was in such a rush to be born that my dad had to deliver me on the side of the road in the middle of the night.”

Christopher laughed. “I wish I could have met them,” he said softly.

“Me too. They would have loved you.”

“So you were out to them?”

I nodded. “I was fifteen when I decided to tell them. I’d heard all the horror stories about kids being kicked out after they came out, so I was terrified I’d be on the streets. I even went so far as to pack a suitcase with a few changes of clothes, some protein bars, and all the cash I’d saved.”

“What happened?”

“I kept chickening out for like three weeks. One Saturday afternoon when I got home after mowing a neighbor’s lawn, I went to my closet so I could put the money in the suitcase. But when I opened it, there was a piece of paper in it with my name on it. It said, ‘Is there any chance you can tell us what you need to tell us by next weekend? We want to borrow your suitcase for our cruise.’”

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