Page 25 of Between Then and Now
“That’s not funny!” she says in a muffled voice.
“Sorry, it’s not my fault. The roads are curved.”
When we reach the town, Bon jumps off the bike. “Thank you for keeping me alive. I’m not fine, but at least I’m not dead,” she says as we walk toward the pet store.
“I told you to trust me,” I reply.
“When did you learn to ride a motorcycle? And more importantly, why?” she asks.
As we walk over the cobblestones, I glance around at the quaint, slightly faded shops, some already closed for the day. From a distance, we can make out the lights and signage of the pet store, which means it’s thankfully still open.
“Well, when you’re an introvert, you tend to look for activities that don’t involve much interaction with other people,” I say casually. “Motorcycling is perfect for that. It’s just me and the open road, no small talk or awkward social situations.”
Bon halts and looks at me with a puzzled expression. “It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? The ones with a whole secret life.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call riding on weekends a secret life,” I shrug.
We reach the pet store, and I hold the door open for Bon. She steps inside, immediately drawn to the colorful displays of pet supplies, with a few squeaky remarks of ‘oh my gosh, look!’ and ‘awwwww’ at every turn. We make our way through the aisles, picking up food, treats, and a few toys for Puppy.
Once our arms are filled with supplies, we walk back to the town proper.
“While we’re here, is there anything else you need?” I ask Bon.
“Yeah, let me just catch up on my messages and socials,” she says, taking a seat on one of the benches and starting to scroll on her phone. I grab some soda and sit beside her.
“Is that Instagram?” I ask, peering over her phone. She’s posting a photo she took of the scenery yesterday.
“Yeah. Don’t you want to check yours too?” she asks.
“Nah, I don’t really have social media.” She looks at me with disbelief. “I mean, I have Facebook that I never really use much, but I don’t have anything else besides that.”
Bon shakes her head. “You’re so unreal.” She chuckles. “You should make one, though. Follow Alexa and slide into her DMs. Might be an easier tactic.” She smiles to herself.
“I understood about sixty percent of what you said,” I reply.
Bon sighs dramatically. “Ryan. You’re twenty-five. Even fifty-year-olds know what I mean.” She holds her hand out. “Give me your phone.”
“You keep referencing fifty-year-olds,” I say, “do you secretly have a fifty-year-old boyfriend?”
“Yeah, he lives on the other side of the country, and he has this daughter who’s my age and–” Bon rattles.
“Okay, stop,” I say before she once again makes up an imaginary relationship. She laughs as she holds her hand out again for my phone.
I hand it to her without hesitation. I don’t know what she’s about to do, but my phone doesn’t really have much to offer, so I let her have it. My phone exists for instant messaging, emails, and maybe some Spotify. Other than that, it’s pretty boring.
She gives my phone back to me, signaling me to enter the password so she can open it.
“It’s just four zeroes,” I say.
“Of course it is,” Bon says, rolling her eyes. “It’s time for your social media redemption, Miller.” She starts downloading Instagram onto my phone.
“Are you making me an Instagram account?” I ask.
“Yes, I am.” I watch her with a mix of amusement and curiosity as she swiftly navigates through the setup process. Her fingers move quickly over the screen, entering my basic information and setting up a profile picture. “I’m not even surprised you don’t have photos of yourself. Just smile, Ry,” she says, pointing the camera at me. I don’t smile, but she takes my photo anyway.
“There,” she says, handing the phone back to me. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Ryan Miller.”
I look at the screen, seeing my newly created profile. “Now what?”
