This time, he made a point of grabbing my hand as he led us out, rather than allowing me to take it if I wanted. The move was pretty bold, but it was kind of pleasing, I couldn’t lie. There were points for boldness, especially since it wasn’t like he jumped from A to Z so quickly.
Plus, for a hand that I expected to be calloused, hard, and rough, it was actually kind of smooth. Not so smooth that it felt uncomfortably or awkwardly weird, but smooth enough that it was pleasant to hold.
When we got on the bike, the exact same thing happened as last time. Even though I knew what was going to happen, I could still feel the tension growing between my legs, threatening to burst across my entire body and make me want to feel glued to the bike and Michael. At least this time, as downtown Los Angeles came into view, the ride wasn’t as long, or it didn’t seem as long, so the line I wasn’t ready to cross didn’t come as close as it had before.
But unlike the last place, where I wasn’t sure where we were going, here, I knew exactly where we were because it was one of the most notable and most recognizable locations in all of Los Angeles—the Griffith Observatory.
“Wow,” I said, unable to contain my surprise. “You know, I know this isn’t a great thing to admit, but I honestly didn’t think you’d be so cultured.”
Thankfully, Michael took what I said in stride and only chuckled at it.
“Not sure where you get that image of us,” he said. “Well, I have an idea. But some of us are cultured. You know I am.”
“True,” I said.
Things were going pleasantly enough, and it would have been easy enough to just let things happen. But I had to frequently remind myself that I did not know enough about Michael to truly declare him different from the rest. Appearances, as I saw daily at the hospital from patients who got hurt in double lives, could not only be deceiving, they frequently were.
“Where did all of this, your experience, where did it come from? You said your father got you into whiskey, but surely, he did much more than that.”
“Oh, true,” Michael said, leading me inside the observatory and to one of the viewing decks. “Well, I guess I’ll start from the beginning. I was born in Texas, but I’ve lived in so many different countries from my father’s time in the military that I’m not even sure I’d believe them all if I didn’t experience them. There was Japan, Germany, Guam, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, California...”
He shook his head and laughed.
“Dad and I—we got around.”
But what about...
“And your Mom?”
The casual smile faded.
“Mom was never the most reliable person, unfortunately,” he said. “She had a drug problem. My dad divorced her when I was three, and she, unfortunately, passed away a couple years later. I do have some memories of her, but they are so distant and so far removed that I don’t even... it’s not that I don’t think of her as my mother.”
But he doesn’t have a stable female presence in his life. Maybe that’s why he’s so easy going. He’s always trying to win over someone.
“I get it,” I said, even though I didn’t. I just didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Oh, it’s totally fine,” Michael said. “It’s tragic, but it’s not like I haven’t had time to process it. Sure, I’d like to have my mother in my life, but I’m past the point where it’s emotional for me. At this point, it’s more of a historical fact than a tragedy.”
“Sure,” I said. “So then, what about the Reapers?”
He shrugged.
“It’s the closest thing to a brotherhood.”
That wasn’t good enough for me. Jason probably would have said the same thing to Kristina.
“There are fraternities, sports teams, friend circles... maybe they’re not as much like the military, but the bonds are still close. Why are you guys so violent?”
Michael chuckled. He wasn’t the only one that could get right to the point on some matters.
“A lot of us don’t trust anyone but ourselves,” he said.
“And that makes you violent?”
Michael shrugged.
“I don’t consider our group violent. The Reapers, I mean. We are capable of great violence—that I will give you. But the Saints? The ones who initiate violence? They’re like us to some extent. They don’t trust the outside world, in large part because we’ve been shunned away. But we understand ‘freedom’ as our right to live as we wish, up to the point of common sense. They see ‘freedom’ as their right to live, regardless of any bounary.”
