I didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. That was the best and only goodbye anyone was gonna get.
I was halfway to the door when I heard a deep and rumbling voice behind me. "Hey, bud. You doing okay?"
I stopped and looked back to see who he was talking to.
To my surprise, he was watching me and patiently waiting for me to respond, like he had all the time in the world.
"Uh, yeah. Fine." That wasn’t even a lie. I was more content than I could remember feeling in years.
He nodded and turned back to his menu as I walked outside.
My old Harley cruiser was parked out front, and I went straight to her. She was older than me but in much better condition. She was perfect. The only good thing in my life. I'd told myself I kept her in good shape because I needed transportation, and that was partially true, but the real reason was that she was the last thing my grandfather left me. Letting her go felt like losing the only person who had ever been glad I existed. So I kept her running even when I barely was. And now, hopefully, she’d find a new home with someone who’d love her just as much.
After taking a beat to acknowledge how much I appreciated her, I patted the tank once and started her up.
The road north out of Pescadero ran along the cliffs, and I took it slow because I had a particular place in mind. There was nobody behind me, and the road curved and climbed in a way that always made me feel like I was the only person left in the world. The ocean was just beyond the rocks, and the familiar rumble brought me an even deeper sense of peace.
This was what I needed.
There was a pull-out I liked to stop at because it was narrow and almost nobody ever stopped there. It was past a bend that mademost drivers nervous, and since the guardrail there was old and rickety, they kept driving to the larger stops that offered plenty of parking and photo ops.
I pulled in and cut the engine so I could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. That was the last sound I’d ever hear.
After climbing off, I rolled the bike away from the edge and set her on the kickstand in a flat part of the gravel where she'd be stable. I didn't want her to fall over or be at risk of getting swiped by a car taking the turn too wide. I straightened the handlebars out of habit and stood back to give her a final once-over.
She looked good. She'd be fine.
I had one cigarette left in a crumpled pack in my jacket pocket, so I pulled it out and lit it up. I slowly walked to the guardrail and enjoyed the familiar taste for the last time. Warmth filled my chest as I built up to what was coming next.
I finished it down to the filter and tucked the butt into my pocket. Just because I wasn’t gonna be around to enjoy the environment didn’t mean I needed to become a litterbug.
After a few more minutes of just standing there, I pulled out the two orange prescription bottles I'd been carrying around for weeks. I held one in each hand and looked at them for a second as I let the full moment pass over me.
My hands were steady and warm, despite the cool ocean air. Everything felt warm. Peaceful.
The waves broke on the rocks below in a constant roar that drowned out all other noises. If cars were passing, I didn’t hearthem. If animals were watching, I didn’t see them. Everything that had been weighing on me slowly dissipated and went quiet.
I opened the first bottle and shook out half the pills into my palm. I’d been saving my sleeping pills for a while, mostly because I slept a lot and rarely needed them. Without giving myself time to get scared, I tossed the whole handful into my mouth and swallowed them dry.
The fog was starting to roll in and my face almost felt damp from the humidity. Or maybe I was sweating. Didn’t matter. I dropped the first bottle and grabbed the second one. The oxy I was prescribed when I had a wisdom tooth removed a few years back was expired, but I figured it would still do the trick. Since it usually made me nauseous, I only took a few. Five was a few, right? Between the benzos and the opioids, I wasn’t worried the job would get done.
Once I felt like I’d taken the most important step in the process, I carefully replaced the lids of the containers and put them on the ground. Whoever found my bike could have a little present too. I just didn’t want to kill a poor seagull or raccoon because of my laziness.
The first hints that my mind was drifting came when I heard my grandpa’s voice behind me. Just like when I was a kid.
“I’m coming, Grandpa.” I closed my eyes and took a step toward the cliff. “I’m almost home.”
2
MATTHEW
I couldn't stop thinking about the kid.
That was the thing about sitting alone at a table in a diner with nothing but a burger and my own thoughts for company. My mind had too much room to wander, and right now, it kept wandering back to the cute guy who'd just ridden away on a sweet bike.
He wasn't a kid, of course. He was probably in his late twenties, but there was something about him that made him seem young. Vulnerable. Something about the way he ordered ice cream as an afterthought and seemed to savor every bite made me wonder what was going on under that mop of brown hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it for a while. Days, maybe.
But if my ego were being honest, it was pretty damn inflated when I caught him staring at me through the window reflection. Was he curious or interested? I’d never know. And that was driving me up the fucking wall.
