'Cause the Hardest Part of This is Leaving You.

He's prettier than I remember. It's as if he's warmed up in my memory. He face even seems child-like. If that was even possible. I'm so glad he good-looking. Lindsey says ugly people give her a headache.

" You're avoiding me. " I tell him.

He looks surprised for a second, but covers it up pretty quick. " I've been busy. "

" Is that right? "

" Yeah. "

" So it's not because I'm contagious? Most people start acting as if they can catch cancer from me in the end, or as if I've done something to deserve it. "

He looks alarmed. " No, no! I don't think that. "

" Good. So when are we going on your bike then? "

He shuffles his feet on the step and looks embarrassed. " I haven't actually got a full license. You're not supposed to be taking passengers without it. "
I can think of a million reasons why going on the back of Frank's bike might be a bad idea. Because we might crash. Because it might not be as good as I thought. Because what will I tell Lindsey? Because it's what I really want to do more than anything. But I'm not going to let the lack of a full license be one of them.

" Have you got a spare helmet? " I ask him.

That slow smile again. I love that smile! Did I think he was pretty just now? No, his face had transformed into something of beauty. " In the shed. I've got a spare jacket too. "

I can't help smiling back. I feel brave and certain. " Come on then. Before it rains. "

He shuts the door behind him. " It's not going to rain. "

We go round the side of the house and get stuff from the shed. But just as he zips me up into the jacket, just as he tells me his bike is capable of ninety miles per hour and the wind will be cold, the back door opens and a woman steps into the garden.
Frank says, " Go back inside, Mom, you'll get cold. "

But she keeps walking down the path towards us. She has the saddest face I've ever seen, like she drowned once and the tide left it's mark there.

" Where are you going? " she says, and she doesn't look at me at all " You didn't say you were going somewhere. "

" I won't be long. "

She makes a funny little sound in the back of her throat. Frank looks up sharply. " Don't,
Mom, " he says. "Go and have you're shower and get dressed. I'll be back before you know
it."

She nods very slowly, begins to walk up the path, then stops as if she remembered
something, and turns and looks at me for the first time, a stranger in her garden.

" Who are you? " she says.

" I live next door. I came to see Frank. "

The sadness in her eyes deepen. " Yes that's what I thought. "

Frank goes over to her and grips her gently by the elbows. " Come on, " he says " You should go back inside. "

She allows herself to be helped up the path and walked to the back door. She goes up the step then she turns to look at me again. She doesn't say anything, neither do I. We just look at each other, and then she goes through the door and into her kitchen. I wonder what happens then, what they say to each other.

" Is she OK? " I ask as Frank walks back out into the garden.

" Let's get out of here. " he says.

*~~~~~~~~~*

It's not what I imagined, not like cycling fast downhill, or even sticking your head out of a car window on the highway. It's more elemental, like being on the beach in winter when the wind howls off into the sea. The helmets have plastic visors. I've got mine down, but Frank's got his up; he did it very deliberately.

He said, " I like too feel the wind in my eyes. "

He told me to lean when we go around corners. Frank told me that since it was my first time he wouldn't go top speed. But that could mean anything. Even half speed, we might take off. We might fly.

We leave the streets and the estates and the wood fences, and we go beyond some kind of boundary where things belong to the town and are understood. Trees, fields, space appears. I shelter behind the curve of his back, and I close my eyes and wonder where he's taking me. Where we end up is somewhere I didn't expect-a muddy car park off the highway. There are two large cars parked here and a little hot-dog stand that also sells coffee. Frank turn's of the ignition, kicks the stand with his foot and takes off his helmet.

" You should get off first. " he says.

I nod, I can barely speak, left my breath behind on the road somewhere. My knees are shaking and it takes a lot of effort to swing my leg over the bike and stand up. The earth feels very still. One of the men in the truck eyes us. I'm different from them all. It's as if we flew here and everyone else is completely ordinary.

Frank says, " This isn't the place. Let's get something to eat, then I'll show you. "
He seems to understand I can't quite talk yet and doesn't wait for an answer. I walk slowly after him, listen to him order two hot-dogs. How did he know that would be my idea of a perfect lunch? We stand and eat. We share a coffee. It seems astonishing to me that I'm here, that the world opened up from the back of a bike.

Finally, when I've thrown my wrapper in the bin and finished the coffee, Frank says 'Ready?'
I follow him to the back of the hot-dog stand. We walk straight for a couple of minutes, combination's of leaves and sticks passing my feet. A mud path threads through and out the other side where we see a view. It's amazing, the whole town down there seems like someone laid it at out feet, and us high up, looking down at it all.

" Wow! " I say, " I didn't know this view was here. "

" Yeah. "

We sit at a bench that is placed here, our knees not quite touching. The ground is hard beneath my feet. The air is cold, smelling of frost that didn't quite make it.

" This is where I come when I need to get away. " he says. " I got the mushrooms from here. "

He takes his Marlboro cigarettes from his pocket, rips the silver padding. He has dirty fingernails and I shiver at the thought of those hands touching me.

" Here, " he says. " This'll warm you up. "

He passes me one and I look at it while he get's his lighter from his pocket. We don't say anything for ages, just blow smoke into the town below.

Frank says, " Anything could happen down there, but here you just wouldn't know it. "
I know what he means. It could be pandemonium in all those little houses, everyone's dreams in a mess. But up here it feels peaceful. Clean.

" I'm sorry, about earlier with Mom, " he says. " She's a bit hard to take sometimes. "

" Is she sick? "

" Not really. "

" What's up with her then? "

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. " My dad was killed in a road accident eighteen
months ago. " He flicks his smoke across the grass and we both watch the orange glow. It feels like minutes until it goes out.

" Do you want to talk about it? "

He shrugs. " There's not much to say. My mom and dad had a fight, he stormed off to the pub and forgot to look when he crossed the road. Two hours later the police were knocking on our door. "

" Shit! "

" Ever seen a scared policeman? "

" No. "

" It's terrifying. My mom sat on the stairs and covered her ears with her hands, and they stood in the hallway with their hats off and their knees shaking. " He laughs through his nose, a soft sound with no humor in it. " They were only a bit older than me. They had no clue to handle it. "

" That's horrible! "

" It didn't help. They took her to see my dad's body. She wanted to, but they shouldn't have let her. He was pretty mashed up. "

" Did you go? "

" I sat outside. "

I understand now why Frank's different from Lindsey. He looks as if he's really seeing me, as if he knows' something about me that even I don't know.

" Are you afraid, Gerard? "

No one's ever asked me that before. Not ever. I look at him to check he's not talking out of his arse or asking out of politeness, but he returns a steady gaze. So I tell him how I'm afraid of the dark, afraid of sleeping, afraid of webbed fingers, of small spaces, of needles.

" It comes and goes. People think if you're sick you become fearless and brave, but you don't. Most of the times it's like being stalked by a psycho, like I might get shot any second. But sometimes I forget for hours. "

" What makes you forget? "

" People. Doing stuff. When I was with you in the woods, I forgot for a whole afternoon. "

He nods very slowly
There's a silence then. Just a little one, but it has a shape to it, like a cushion on a couch.

Frank says. " I like you, Gerard. "

When I swallow, my throat hurts. " You do? "

" The day you came round to chuck your stuff on the fire, you said you wanted to get rid of all your things. You told me you watch me from your window. most people don't talk like that. "

" Did it freak you out? "

" The opposite. " He looks at his feet as if they'll give him a clue. " I can't give you wat you want though. "

" What I want? "

" I'm only just coping. If anything happens between us, it's kind of like, what would be the point? " He shifts on the bench. " This is all coming out wrong. "

I feel strangely untouchable as I stand up. I can feel myself closing some kind of internal window. I kind of feel crisp as a winter leaf.

" I'll see you around. " I say.

" You're going? "

" Yeah, I've got stuff to do in town. Sorry, I didn't realize what the time was. "

" You have to go right now? "

" I'm meeting friends. They'll be waiting for me. "
He fumbles around on the grass for the helmets " Well, let me take you. "

" No, no, it's OK. I'll get one of them to pick me up. They've all got cars. "
He looks stunned. Ha! Good! That'll teach him to be the same as everyone else. I don't even bother saying goodbye.

" Wait! " he says.

But I won't. I won't look back at him either.

" The path night be slippery! " he shouts. " It's beginning to rain. "

I said it would rain. I knew it would.
" Gerard, let me give you a lift! "

But if he thinks I'm climbing on that bike with him, he can think again.

I made a fatal error thinking that he could save me.