Page 18 of Red's Peril: Part 1

I don’t. But I’m banking on knowing what I’m looking for when it’s there. Suddenly, I realise there’s a real risk that Cheryl won’t be with me. “I need you,” I tell her earnestly. “Fuck knows how or why, but you’ve become important to me.”

Her shoulders rise and then lower. “I get the feeling any woman would do for you, Red. What are we really, but fuck buddies?”

She’s far more than that to me, but maybe she’s describing what I am to her. “How compatible we are is just part of it,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. “I respect you, like you, love like fuck having you at my back on the road.”

“I’m giving up everything for you, Red, and I don’t even know who you are.” I go to open my mouth, but she gets in before I can summon up any words. “When we get to wherever, what am I supposed to do? It’s far too soon to commit to living together. I’ve been an utter fool.”

“I thought you were a free spirit like your mother—”

“At least she had a home to go to,” she spits. “My dad had somewhere to take her. She wasn’t going to a strange town, expecting to live in a hovel or sleep rough.”

“Neither are we. We’ll stay in motels—”

“For how long?” she cries out and interrupts. “How long until the money runs out?”

“I’ll find a job.”

“Like that’s going to be easy.” She scoffs.

I stare at the woman sitting opposite me. For a moment, I can say nothing, just try to gather my thoughts so the wrong words don’t blurt out of my mouth. As I sit speechless, the waiter stops by.

She gives her order of coffee, and a sandwich. Still feeling cold, now emotionally as well as physically, I go for the same drink, and add in a request for soup, but my appetite has fled now. I can’t understand this change in her and dread the thought of riding on alone.

It’s only been a short time, but I’m already used to her riding behind me. In my head, she’s been with me all the way, sharing my excitement when we choose a place to stop, if not permanently, then at least for a while. I may not have been quite at the point of drawing hearts with Red and Cheryl forever written within, but I’ve gotten pretty close to it.How could I have misread the situation so badly?

A hundred things come to me, solutions for the practicalities at first. The offer that we could ride slower has already been made. Clothes, well, they can be purchased anywhere. I’ve planned to do that for myself, hoping to swap jeans and sweaters for shorts and t-shirts as we get further south. A home? Well, I doubt I’ll have much trouble finding a job. There’s always a call for good mechanics, and Manny would give me a glowing reference.

I’m confident that I could make a comfortable life for her, but maybe, on our short acquaintance, that’s too much to ask. Even this, the fact she’s surprised me, makes me realise how little I know her. And while I wouldn’t have expected it, how fickle she is.

Her phone buzzes on the table. She picks it up, listens for a moment, then tells the caller, “Yeah, Mom, I’m coming back. No, it’s okay, I’ve got money for that. Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

The one-sided conversation lets me know she’s already spoken to her mother and that the decision’s already been made. There’s probably nothing I can say to change it. That she hasn’t given us a real chance to talk this out, to consider our options, suddenly makes me furious. I look out of the window, staring at my bike.Just you and me again, old girl.Perhaps as it was always meant to be.

Our drinks are delivered, and we down them in silence. Then when the food comes, despite not thinking I would be able to eat, I inhale my soup, while she nibbles her sandwich. Outside, the sleet’s still falling.

“I’m not driving you back,” I tell her, having decided. It’s one thing to stay with her when I thought we’d have a future, quite another now she’s decided we don’t.

“I’m not asking you too,” she retorts. “I’ve already checked. There’s a Greyhound that passes through here. I’ll hop on that.”

Now I feel a bastard. And selfish. I reach my hand over the table, leaving it lying in invitation, palm up. “Give us one more night?” I ask, with a hint of desperation in my voice.

She gulps, swallows, then shakes her head. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Has anything happened?” Suddenly, I’m sure it has. This morning she was happy and smiling, and I didn’t think the admittedly cold ride would have changed her this much.

Her mouth opens as though she’s going to confide in me, but then she shakes her head. “Nothing. I just realised I wasn’t made for this.”

So, it’s no more than that. She’d had me fooled. I thought she was something more than she was. I’m angry I’ve wasted time when I could have gotten more miles under my belt. What an idiot I’ve been, falling for the first woman who let me into her bed, or joined me in mine, more to the point.

My coffee cup is empty, my soup all gone. With an air of finality, I suddenly stand. Extracting a decent handful of dollars, I throw them down. “For the food, for your journey, and for whatever else I owe you.”

I’m treating her like a whore, but my temper’s come out on top again. Normally, I can control my rage, but when it bubbles up, I’m a typical redhead. “It’s beenniceknowing you,sweetheart.”

I ignore the way she flushes, and how her eyes widen in disgust. I ignore the whimper of protest that comes out of her mouth.

I leave her there, seated at that table, as I return to the entrance. Pointedly, I turn to look at her as I put on the waterproofs she’d borrowed. Then, I storm toward the door, only just managing to avoid the man who’d served us.

It’s only when I get back out to my bike and start strapping my saddlebags back on that I see her forlorn rucksack still tied to the back. For a second, I’ve the impulse to take it off and leave it sitting there in the mud, but I’m not that much of a bastard. With a sigh, I start to undo the bungee straps, recalling the pleasure and anticipation from this morning when I’d tied her belongings on.

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