Stories from the Back of His Motorcycle

This time was different.

Mom was in her red florescent dress – the one with the orange trimming and bright jewels. She was sat in the kitchen, slumped over on a chair as if the whole world’s weight had suddenly fallen onto her tiny shoulders. I should have felt bad for her but this was just a familiar horrible scene. The kind you always fast forward in movies. The kind that you can’t bear to watch because you know you can’t change them. Nothing I could ever say would make Mom happy, nothing I could do would make her forget that she and Dad didn’t love each other.

But, although this was familiar, there was something amiss. Something deeper that was out of place. I couldn’t quite figure it out as I lingered in the kitchen doorway and stared. Mom would never even know I was there. She was as oblivious to me as I pretended to be her.

And then I noticed the calendar.

The calendar in our house was like the bible of our activity. If you had something planned you’d write it in your section of the calendar. Mom’s column was filled with social outings with her friends. Things like ‘drinks with Mary and Susie’ and ‘Patty’s divorce party – remember to bring an extra pair of shoes’. My column sat sadly void of much writing save for the scarce ‘Delia sleeping round’ and ‘babysitting for Vivi’.

But under Dad’s name, where the regular ‘tennis at 8pm’ should have been, was nothing but black marker scribbles. He’d been wiped out entirely. For the whole month of March Dad had been erased. I daren’t check the following months – scared of what I’d find.

“Mom…” my voice was flat. Maybe Vivi’s levelheadedness was rubbing off on me somewhat, but it was probably just the numbness their arguing brought forth. I was like a shell morphed by the sea. I was eroded in places but stolid enough to remain whole. “Mom, where’s Dad?”

He should have been arriving home from work soon but something in the air tasted like leaving. Like leaving and never coming back.

Mom just stared at the wall dully as if the whole world around had just turned to a particularly bleak shade of grey. I abandoned her to run up the stairs frantically. My senses were overloading, I was so scared of what lay just down the hallway. But my feet carried on anyway and my hands worked fine too as they pushed open the door.

His clothes were gone.

His toothbrush was gone.

Everything that had ever tied him to this house was gone. Now I was the only thing proving he had ever been here – that and my Mom’s broken heart. I swallowed the saliva which threatened to choke me.

I didn’t know what to do or where to stand. Was it weird if I just stayed there in my parent’s bedroom? I couldn’t think of anyplace else, nowhere would be any different. A room is just an empty space with four walls. Dad was gone and no change of scenery was going to alleviate that knowledge.

I sat quietly down on their bed, taking in the habitual smell of times long passed. I think my heart was breaking but I couldn’t know for sure because it had never happened before. There was nothing to compare it to because there was nothing like it. I was new to this much shock and this much pain.

There were no tears in my eyes since I still didn’t really believe what had happened. Any moment Dad would return home demanding his dinner good-naturedly and they’d argue briefly over where to get a takeout from. Then life would be as normal as it ever had been.

I could almost hear the sounds of him returning. The rustle of the doormat. The groan as he bent down to release his shoes. The fumbling around in the kitchen for something to eat. But it was just my imagination, over exerting itself in some self-preservation act.

And that’s where I fell asleep to, mercifully, no dreams.



“You look like death,” Vaughn commented when I sat myself down beside him. I was approximately 13 minutes late. I’d awoken this morning to find I was still on my parents’ bed fully clothed and that time was running away from me. Mom had locked herself in the spare bedroom – I only knew this because it was the only room with its door not flung wide open. Dad wasn’t there. I had taken what little money I had left and called a cab, receiving funny looks the whole way from the driver.

“Yeah,” I sighed out and closed my fatigued eyes. I felt far worse than I could ever look.

“What did you do?”

“Oh you know. Stayed out late partying all night.”

“Sure,” he didn’t smile like he normally would, instead fixing dark eyes onto my slumped figure. Normally my posture was perfect. Normally I could pretend that everything else was perfect too. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” my voice quivered. I cursed not having cried it all out earlier, now there was all this pent up emotion making my insides feel like hell. We didn’t discuss what happened over the week and I was glad. I didn’t need to be reminded of how I had let Vaughn closer than necessary.

Vaughn didn’t say anything else and for that I was grateful. Any kind word could set me off. I shifted around in my chair to look at Delia but she wasn’t there, probably crying some more at home about Josh. But out of all the days my best friend took off it had to be the one when I actually needed her. It was my turn for once. I was sick of being the shoulder to cry on. What was I? Superwoman?

“Miss!” Vaughn’s hand shot up in the air frantically “Miss I need to go to the nurse, can I be excused?” I didn’t even have the strength to give him a bizarre look. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Miss Rigeti told him to ‘get well soon’ as he scraped back his chair. With theatrics similar to the biggest drama queen in school, Vaughn swooned slightly and reached a hand out to steady himself on our desk. I examined his fingers briefly. They were long and tanned just like the rest of him.

“Oh gosh my poor dear, you don’t look well at all. Can you stand? Do you need some help? Jake can you escort hi-?”

But Vaughn cut her off quickly “oh don’t worry about me Miss. I just…” he lurched forward again as if he were about to faint but at the last moment caught himself. Even I was staring at him now and wondering what the hell he was up to.

“Oh no dear you need somebody to go with you. Shelby, can you take him to the nurse, you’re his friend right?”

So I was Shelby now? I don’t think we even had a Shelby in our year. “I’m not his friend,” I protested quietly, more to myself than anyone else. But despite this I rose and followed a half-staggering Vaughn out of the classroom. He draped a muscled arm around my shoulder as if I were actually supporting him, as if I could actually take more than a few stone in weight.

When we were safely out in the hallways, and the door closed behind us, I rounded on him. “What’s the big idea?” I shrugged his arm off of my skin.

“The big idea,” he mimicked my tone “is to get you out of there before you break-down.”

“So you’re not going to faint or anything?” I grimaced, letting him know that I would probably just leave him out cold if he did.

“No,” he smiled weakly, scrutinising my face.

“Good…” there was nothing else to say. Class would end soon and I didn’t know if I could take a whole day of fake smiles and ‘fine-just-fine’s. Vaughn read all of this in my face and started off down the empty hallway before I could even blink. He paused at the doors and turned back to me.

“You coming then?”

They were approaching – the tears – so I just nodded mutely and half ran over to him and then outside. We walked together side-by-side but I barely felt him there. I was miles away, lying in my parents’ empty room, listening to Mom’s quiet sobs. It was still surreal and yet now I understood what had happened. Daylight brought with it a stark realisation.

I had never skipped school before but knew enough about Vaughn to appreciate that nobody would try to stop us. It didn’t feel as empowering as I’d imagined it might but I supposed my mind was preoccupied with other things. Like how my father had just walked out on us without so much as a goodbye.

“Here,” Vaughn placed the black helmet in my hands. I stared at it dumbly, not computing what exactly he wanted me to do with it. “Put it on Alice,” he said slowly. I did so without a second thought. It didn’t even occur to me how this was like some twisted replay of last week, I was too busy fighting off the inevitable.

Under the helmet’s tinted visor I finally let the tears fall. I bit my lip to stop the sobs but he knew anyway. My own breath flew back into my face until Vaughn flipped the visor up so he came back into coloured view. He didn’t touch me as I thought he might, just stared at me deeply. His eyes seemed to be trying to pluck all the misery from me. They do say that eyes are the windows to one’s soul and I guess Vaughn had heard this too. Either that or he was trying to beat me at a staring contest again.

No words were exchanged and my tears didn’t stop but somehow I felt just a little better. There was a familiar look on his face, one that I’d seen in the mirror when times were particularly hard. Vaughn hoisted a leg over the bike and settled himself carefully.

“Get on,” he commanded softly. I eased myself on after him – the leather familiar against my worn jeans. The engine roared to life beneath us as Vaughn twisted the gears enthusiastically. I could tell he lived out his best moments on this bike and never forgot a single one of them just by the quick flash of pleasure caught in his eyes.

“Alice,” he twisted around to peer at me “I don’t bite you know.” I could barely see for all the tears falling but I felt him take my arms and wind them around himself. “Hold tight, and not just because I’m enjoying this immensely. You remember how from last time?”

I hugged him closely from the back. His hair caught the sharp breeze as we kicked off – I was the one wearing the only helmet. I closed my eyes tightly and tried imagining I was somewhere else where my life wouldn’t be in danger and I wouldn’t be clinging tightly to Vaughn Hart. But it seemed to hurt a lot more to do this so, in the end, I just let the tears fall and was contented with being exactly where I was.