Stories from the Back of His Motorcycle

Dried blood lined the skin in between Vaughn’s fingers. I could see it stuck under his fingernails, the red and brown replacing what should have been white. As I examined him closer, I saw slight bruise patterns decorating his arms and a cut dividing his lip. I narrowed my eyes as he just leant back on his motorcycle with a cigarette, pretending that he hadn’t obviously been in a fight.

It was still early, before the bell, and the sun was out, mocking me. I watched him subtly. It hurt just looking at the painful abrasions inflicted along his body, so much so that I felt a cold tremor shoot up my spine. I was still mad about yesterday but his injuries seemed far more important than my anger. Yesterday when he had left there wasn’t a visible scratch on him. Yesterday he had walked straight to his motorcycle after wordlessly dropping me off, purpose thick on his back, the helmet on his head and his strides even. There’d been no hint of pain there, no hint of wanting to have pain inflicted upon him. But I knew Vaughn well enough to realise his acting skills surpassed Hollywood greats.

“What happened?”

My hair was still windswept from the ride we’d just taken. He had been wearing the helmet; as if that would stop me from ever finding out about his fight.

It was a good thing I’d heard his motorcycle blaring noisily into our drive that morning or I may not have even gotten out of bed. The house’s atmosphere had been so thick with misery I’d just wanted to bury myself further into the sheets. Mom wasn’t there. She hadn’t returned, she hadn’t called, she hadn’t even tried. Nick was snoozing peacefully in his room, Ross and El probably fawning over wedding plans as if everything was perfect.

“Nothing,” Vaughn shrugged.

“This,” I reached forward and grabbed his hand, tracing the blood with my own fingers “is not nothing.” He sucked in a breath at the contact, the cigarette still fuming in his mouth, and I hurriedly released my grip. “Did I hurt you?”

Chuckling, he rolled his eyes up to the sky. “Please tell me you don’t actually think that low of me. You couldn’t hurt anyone, let alone me.” I snorted, sliding beside him on the motorbike, careful not to touch him anyway.

“What happened?” I tried again.

“I got into a fight,” he smiled slightly.

“Again? Vaughn what the hell? Why don’t you listen to me when I tell you to keep your anger in check, why do you have to do whatever protects your stupid pride?”

“It’s not a big deal Alice.”

“It is a big deal, when did this happen?”

“Last night.”

“After you dropped me off?”

“Yes.”

I stopped myself, realising I sounded like a mother. Like the mother he couldn’t stand. I swallowed the endless questions burning my tongue to just look at him again. He seemed distant, as if thinking about something which required most of his attention. I saw the detachment in his eyes, the suns glare making them shine an unnatural black.

“Vaughn,” I murmured gently. I didn’t touch him no matter how wrong it felt to just keep my arms limp at my sides, still fearing he was in more pain than he let on. I could remember our kiss on the Ferris-wheel, and it scared me how much I was scared for him.

“It was just a fight Alice to blow off some steam. I didn’t even get hurt much; you should have seen the other guys.”

“Guys?” my eyes widened, my voice high. “As in more than one?”

He just cocked his head to a side and looked at me carefully, searching for something I wasn’t sure he’d find. I tried to dissipate the alarm suddenly pounding through my veins. I was overreacting. This was what Vaughn was; he did stupid, impulsive, dangerous things like get into fights with more than one opponent.

“Whatever,” I started marching towards school despite it still being too early. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to change Vaughn, to get him to open up to me, he still wouldn’t. He was resilient and stubborn in the same way that I was hardened and broken. It was just like a repeat of yesterday – me being left out of whatever secret coded conversation he’d had with his Mom.

“Alice,” he sighed out from behind me “it really isn’t that big of a deal. I was still worked up from yesterday at my house so I let it out on some stupid guys. I want to know if you’re okay?”

I hated how I seemed weak to him, I was meant to be the person who never really showed a crack of my emotions and yet here was this mysterious boy who’d seen me cry. Twice. I wasn’t like the other girls so why did I sound like one of them coming from his mouth?

“Why wouldn’t I be fine?” I moved forward again after briefly stopping.

“Because your Dad walked out on you,” he said quietly, appearing beside me. I didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t acknowledge what he’d said. “Because you’ve had to see your brothers for the first time in years, because I was an idiot with my Mom in front of you yesterday and because you’re carrying the weight of a lot of others on your shoulders and…” He trailed off and I dared a glance at him. His face was the picture of horrified understanding, as if he’d only just realised some terrible truth.

I shook my head and carried on walking faster not that I needed to, Vaughn was already dropping behind.

“And I’m just going to add to that.”

I pretended not to hear him. I was angry for the stupid reason that Vaughn was Vaughn. He was dangerous and spontaneous and that wasn’t going to change, I had just imagined for one stupid second that it could. That I could.

And then I was turning around, whipping back over to him and grabbing the cigarette from his mouth. “This,” I threw it to the floor in disgust “is going to kill you.” I left him properly then, in what I hoped was some dramatic roll of dust but was more like a tiny turf of hair-gripping wind. If he didn’t want to share then that was fine.

It didn’t matter that I’d poured my heart out these past few weeks. It didn’t matter that I’d been the one to break my usual distant habits to cry into his grey tee-shirt. It didn’t matter that I’d made a complete fool of myself by allowing him to kiss me, or that I, for the first time in forever, had been concerned for someone other than Delia. Because Vaughn not sharing was just bloody fine.



“Do you love him?”

“What?” I refocused on Delia who was perched carelessly on the side of my desk. It was English and Vaughn wasn’t here, not that I cared. He obviously didn’t. He just thought my, albeit rocky and new, relationship with him wasn’t worth trying to make me understand why he’d done something so stupid as to get into a fight. Again. Wasn’t worth letting me understand his problems, or telling me why his Mom had been so against us being anywhere near each other.

“Do you love Vaughn?”

I shot her a look. The why-on-earth-are-you-even-wasting-my-time-with-such-a-stupid-question look. I’d had time to practice this over the years as Delia asked a lot of dumb questions. However, this one topped all others.

“Do you?” she repeated, obviously ignoring my pointed expression which was hopefully familiar to her.

“Delia,” I sighed “I don’t believe in love. It’s not real, it’s made-up, a fiction, a lie, something drilled into us through fairy-tales.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

I blinked at her and wondered how someone so intelligent could be so stupid. She was my best friend but so much had divided us. Vaughn. Josh. My family. Her innate ability to be so absorbed in herself that everybody else’s problems just faded into the background.

“No, Delia, I do not love Vaughn. Why would you even ask that? Surely that’s like asking your Mom if she likes you wiping your dirty feet on her pristine Persian rug.”

“You’ve been with him a lot lately, it’s like you’ve forgotten about me.” For some reason I found that sickly amusing. The best friend who was always there had suddenly gained a different pass-time, and suddenly accusations of being overlooked were flying.

“You’re being an idiot Delia. I haven’t forgotten about you, I’ve just been busy.”

That was usually where a friend would ask “busy? With what? Don’t tell me your brothers are returning into the picture and your Mom and Dad have left you to fend for yourself and your potential boyfriend is keeping secrets?” That was what Delia asked in my head. In reality she just shrugged “I’m scared for you Alice.”

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? Vaughn’s not some axe wielding lunatic.”

She smiled sadly at me. She smiled like my mother used to when I asked her why she fought with Dad so much. It was pitying and masked so many more emotions. Delia had never smiled anything past a shallow smile before and I realised then that she had truly loved Josh. It scared me to recognize the pain on her – the girl who was usually so frivolous and free was finally friends with hurt. I had failed in protecting her from it. I was the reason she was feeling it in the first place.

“Don’t get hurt, okay?” she reached out and rubbed my arm comfortingly.

‘It’s a bit late for that’ I thought.

I almost returned her smile with a mocking grin of my own. “I won’t.”

“And sorry about being all crabby lately, the whole Josh thing just sent me reeling, you know? I’m over it though. Apparently he’s pining away after a girl he has no hope in hell of getting. God knows who she is but I pity her, the poor girl has no idea what an asshole Josh can be.”

“I think she does,” I murmured to myself, too low for her to hear. The startling blonde in her hair reflected the sunshine pouring in as her head quirked to the side, a silent question on her face.

Just then, Jake Longhorn stumbled up to Miss Rigeti’s desk. The sorry looking sheet he handed in was met with a delighted look from the teacher as if this was the masterpiece she’d been waiting her whole life to read. Delia and I shared a glance of disgust, appalled but not in the least surprised at Miss Rigeti’s absolute naivety. It was nice to telepathically talk to Delia again. I’d missed her, shallowness and all.

“I’ll give you a lift home today,” she beamed, obviously feeling the slight reunion we hadn’t had to verbalise. “Maybe this weekend we’ll look at cheap cars? You really need to get one again; I can’t imagine what I’d do without my baby.” Her hand subconsciously smoothed along her desk as if feeling the vehicle’s bonnet under her fingertips.

I dragged my gaze from Delia’s beautiful face to the window; catching sight of a familiar figure still slumped against his motorcycle. A suspicious stream of smoke was rising from him but I didn’t have the energy to feel annoyed. Vaughn could do what he liked, even if that did end up hurting me. He didn’t have to share – he was obviously above such pathetic acts.

“Sure,” I spoke slowly “I need a way to get home anyway.”