Ian
This morning, all I wanted to do was take my time, wake up without an alarm, have a shower, drink a coffee, and take a long ride to keep out of Ryan’s hair – who has apparently decided to vegetate at my house – but as soon as I tried to push off, it became clear that something was wrong with my motorbike, and I had to tinker around with it until early afternoon. I could have waited until Monday to take it into the garage, but I hoped that it might be something insignificant, so I could deal with it myself. I like getting my hands greasy, lying on the ground and touching all of its most intimate parts as if it were a woman, because that’s how I treat it.
I pull myself off the ground and grab a rag to clean my hands as I look at my bike in satisfaction, pleased with myself for having fixed it on my own.
“Wow, you’ve got your future nailed down,” Ryan says, trying to wind me up.
“Sure do, how about you?” I answer, without even looking at him.
“Fuck off.”
Always in a good mood.
I open the gate to my apartment, which used to be in the garage, but when the area was remodeled the place was changed into a loft and, all things considered, it makes sense. I could have put a door in, but I don’t mind keeping part of the original design, and it’s pretty ideal for my bike.
I go outside to get some air and have a smoke, after being closed inside almost all day, but as soon as the gate is halfway up, I see someone standing on the other side of the road.
I crouch down to go out, and as I am on my way up, the cigarette that I had just put in my mouth falls to the tarmac.
Crap.
She looks around with the air of someone who mistakenly ended up in a bad neighborhood, afraid and nervous. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, gym shoes, and a huge sweatshirt, her hair completely windswept.
A strange sensation grapples my stomach as if someone had bitten me from the inside.
I step out on the pavement at the same moment she notices me; she crosses the street slowly, looking in both directions while my heart beats arrogantly in my chest.
She stops and keeps her eyes on her shoes, biting her lip nervously and trying to fix her hair.
I stand still with my arms hanging at my sides, attempting to control my breathing, resigned to her invasion and the disaster that is about to storm through my life again; I’d like to push away from myself with all of my might, but I know that I don’t have the strength.
I decide to put an end to my agony, and to hers, and get right to the point.
“Why are you here?” I ask her, taking out another cigarette and nervously lighting it, trying to mask the need to send her away immediately.
She stands perfectly still without making a sound. To be honest, I can’t even tell if she’s still breathing, which worries me enough to speak to her.
“Are you alright, Riley?”
“I need to speak to you.”
Send her away. Send her away. Send her away.
I throw the cigarette onto the ground and invite her to follow me inside, holding the gate open for her to pass. As soon as we enter my living room, Ryan jumps to his feet from the sofa.
“Holy shit!”
“Get out of my house right now!” I point to the door.
“Where the hell am I supposed to go?”
“Not my problem.”
Ryan stands there, frozen with his hands on his hips. He looks at me questioningly and then shakes his head in disapproval.
He grabs his jacket and walks over to me, whispering in my ear.
“I see a shitstorm on the horizon.”
