"Thanks for stopping at that art store." I turn away from my new substantial painting supplies and beam at Mr. Sexy Biker.
"Didn't really give me an option, considering you said it was a matter of life or death."
Facing forward, I plop my butt back on the seat. "It was and now you've saved me twice." My two fingers wiggle in the air for dramatic affect.
We've been driving again for ten minutes and I can't seem to shut up, because I never can. At the moment, I'm rambling on about how pretty his midnight blue car is while I munch on Chex Mix.
The interior of the car is eye-catching with black leather seats in pristine condition and pretty rich wood accents on the dashboard, doors and around the stick shift. The steering wheel is mostly wood as well and flawless with no dents or nicks in it... in fact, everything in the car is flawless. It's so clean that I could probably eat off the floor.
"How did you get this? It can't be cheap. Oh my gosh, Mr. Mysterious Biker Guy..." I lean in whispering with wide eyes, "Do you sell drugs."
He glances at me with an amused smirk as his sunglasses rest on his head. "No."
I raise my I don't know if I believe you brow. "Would you tell me if you did?"
His glorious laugh fills the car and I smile adding another mark to the mental chart I'm keeping. "Probably not."
"Well, at least you're honest. Okay, I should probably not keep calling you, Mr. Sexy Biker Guy—"
"You haven't called me that one yet."
I give a nonchalant shrug and go back to munching. "I call you that in my head."
"Most people would be embarrassed saying something like that."
I wave my hand dismissing the comment. "Here's the most important thing you'll learn about me. I'm not like most people."
"How so?" He pops on his blinker and pulls onto the off ramp.
My finger taps on my head. "Wired differently."
"What do you mean by that?"
"How some people I've known put it, I have a broken brain."
It's quiet for a little.
"Name's Adonis."
My attention goes from my bag of Chex Mix to him and I swivel in my chair to face him. "Is that your real name? Because I've read a lot of books and according to ones about biker's you guys go by nicknames."
He smiles at that and there are those magnificent dimples. "Nickname."
"So what's your real name?"
"Don't go by that name."
I narrow my eyes at him. "I'll figure it out you know."
He chuckles. "Doubt it."
"Don't." I go back to my snack. "Mine is—"
"Georgie." My eyes bulge out at his interruption.
Okay, that's weird. "Alright, you have ten seconds to explain to me how you know my name before I jump out of this very beautiful car."
"You're a little different, aren't you?" My hand grabs the door handle and he gives another one of those beautiful chuckles. "Now don't do that, Tater Tot. I know your dad."
It takes me a minute to process this information. "Wait, hold up, you know my dad? So, you knew who I was? What is going on?"
He looks over at me for a minute then back to the road. "I recognized you the minute I saw you. You haven't changed much since you were a kid."
"Did I know you because I have zero recollection of you and I think I'd remember..." I wave my hand at him. "You."
He smiles. "No, but your dad has pictures around his house."
"My dad has pictures of me," I whisper.
He cocks his head to glance at me. "Of course he does."
I shift uncomfortably and start mumbling, "This is an interesting development."
How he grips the steering wheel makes the muscles in his arm coil. "I'm taking you to him."
My skin prickles at that. "What's he like? Does he know? Do you know my sister too? Do you think they'll be excited or horrified? A mixture of both? What does Amber do? Are they happy?"
His mouth twitches. "That's a lot to answer in this short ride, but yes, I know your sister. I think they'll both be shocked. She's in college playing soccer. Yes, they're happy. The one word I'd use to describe your dad is loyal. And no, I tried calling at the gas station but no one answered."
I store in the valuable information. "You know them well? Is that why you said you'd never hurt me, because of my dad?"
"I'm curious?" he questions. "They don't talk about you much. In fact, you're a mystery to everyone. My question is what happened?" I'm quiet and try to find out how to answer. I'm about to get lost in my thoughts, which is a very dark place for me, when he says, "You don't know everything do you?"
Our eyes clash and once again it's like that pearl can see everything, every thought and emotion. "Wrong. I don't know anything. The only thing I can remember with this dumb brain was watching my childhood home disappear in the backseat of the car while my mom was driving away." I end my rant with a sharp crunch on a Chex.
"There's definitely some serious mending that needs to be done." He throws out.
"I'm guessing you think it's all on me then?"
"Didn't say that, Tater Tot."
The sign to my tiny hometown comes into view as it creaks in the wind. Sunny Valley. I scuffle to my knees cranking down the window. "Have I mentioned I love your car? Like seriously, old school window cranks are amazing."
The wind whips my hair all around, smacking my face maliciously and stinging my cheeks. The warm humid air swells up in the car and I close my eyes for a moment. I expect only the color behind my eyelids to be that soft darkness the sun lightly kisses, but instead, it's a blur of people laughing and playing in the sun. Everything is close up. It's similar to those Claritin commercials except there is no allergy medicine to clear up this picture.
Do they have some Claritin prescription for the mind?
Something about the blurry vision fills me with warmth, but then it's gone. The happy moment is ripped in half by a lightning bolt of smoke and blackness just like when I have an episode. It fades and before that smoke can take over, my eyes shoot open. There's a plethora of trees, some dark green, others bright yellow, burnt orange and fiery red.
My favorite time of year, fall.
Resting my head on the windowsill of the car, something in my bones tells me I had made the right decision coming here. I have no idea what life is going to be like now. It's a blank canvas. Would I fit in? Or be an outsider like I have been my whole life? Who knows?
"I don't remember my childhood," I say as I stare out the window with the wind all around me. "When I try to, there's nothing. It's all blank. All I can remember is little bits of things about Dad and Amber. Other than that, there's nothing. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Maybe because I try not to hide too much and be honest about almost everything."
"You have no secrets?" he asks.
"Almost everything, Adonis. But yes, I have a secret. One big one that I'll never let out, which is why I try to make up for it with being open about everything else."
Taking a deep breath, I think about the possibility of being too much for dad to handle. Mom couldn't. My episodes have gotten progressively worse throughout the years. Each passing day I lose more and more sleep as they plague my mind and body.
As they control me.
There had been times I painted massive murals on some of our apartment walls making Mom look at me in terror. The deeper I sunk the more she distanced herself... and then she got married.
Chip and I started rough and ended rough. The first time he witnessed one of my episodes he nearly threw me in a mental institution. I was almost placed in a psych ward at sixteen. Fortunately, mom got him to agree with keeping me until I graduated, like I was some dog from the pound. That day my opinion of mom had forever changed.
The arrogant spiteful man even agreed to pay my college tuition in full just to get me out of there. The idea of owing that man anything made my skin crawl. Luckily, I ended up getting a full ride to a special private art college. I had thought it would finally be a place where I could be myself, but even there I was considered...peculiar?
I've always been odd and always will be. It's who I am and how I was created and birthed. Mom had originally thought moving to Rhode Island and having me see a therapist would help me with these episodes, or as Chip puts it "psychotic outbreaks." I swear when he witnessed it the guy was ready to call a priest to come over and cleanse me.
I remember shouting at him that God uniquely designed me.
He said I was of the devil.
I'm learning that there is no one I can identify with and maybe that's okay. LI know at the end of it all God didn't make a mistake with me, despite what others may think.
"So how do you know my dad?" Adonis gets off the freeway and onto the exit ramp. I notice he has to turn his head a lot more than people normally do when driving. "I vaguely remember he's a mechanic or something along those lines and you mentioned parts so..."
He's silent.
Deciding to get his attention, I grip his vest and peer at the all the patches. He takes my hand and gives me a teasing smile, causing a zing of fuzzy electricity to ignite in my veins. It hurts, but it's also a feeling I don't ever want to let go of.
"No touching the cut, Tater Tot."
My brows raise and now it's my turn for a lopsided grin that probably looks more like I'm constipated. I point my finger at him and wiggle it around preparing for my assault. The probability of breaking a finger with one poke is pretty high.
I still go for it.
"Don't. Call. Me. Tater Tot, Scarface."
Nice Georgie. Very inventive. What happened to your witty banter? Oh, right. It was flushed down the toilet along with your ability to hold a normal conversation.
Let's be honest, I never had that ability.
Luckily, my finger is still usable after my poking tirade, but I definitely bent it weird on the last altercation.
What is this guy built out of?
Pure steel?
What did Josie say a few weeks back...
Titanium Ahoy?
No, that sounds like a cookie.
A deep, bone vibrating laugh pulls me from my thoughts and another mark goes in my mental chart. Meanwhile his magnificent dimples are full on display. Pulling back, I rub my finger as he looks down at the spot I poked.
"Are you a child?"
I lean over and snicker at his scar. "Yes." Sitting back, I gloat and then touch his "cut" again. "Sergeant at Arms."
"I told you not to touch it."
"And you also told me you'd never do anything that could hurt me," I counter.
He rests his head back as he turns down a street. He does that thing guys do were they use one hand, specifically the palm. "You're good at this."
"What?" I question looking at all the patches on the right side of his vest.
I'll have to examine the other patches later.
"They're colors by the way and I'll let you examine them anytime."
"Colors?" I question back as I smooth a finger over his embroidered name.
There's a subtle action of a small, but noticeable crunch to his eyes making one glint with mischief and pride. "The patches."
He has a ton of them, but one sticks out more than the rest because unlike the others it isn't as worn. It's of a cross with wings coming around it, similar to the eagle with its swoop effect. Engraved on the cross is BROTHERHOOD. Something tells me he had to do something incredible to earn it.
It hovers right over his chest and my fingers trace it delicately. "This one's special isn't it."
"You really should stop touching me like that."
The car stops and I turn and soak in the sight before me. A cathartic feeling bubbles inside as all sound fades away. I've painted this sight many times but I never really knew if it was my home or just some close replica.
Now I know.
The yellow cottage with a green door that goes to the porch encased in windows is adorable. There is a white picket fence wrapping around the front. The cobblestone path leads to the green door where a couple pumpkins sit on the steps going up to the porch.
Every time I had painted it, it had been perfect.
"Home," I whisper as I get out of Adonis's car.
I've never understood the reason why mom had been adamant about not wanting me to ever see dad or Amber again. They were my family. After she married Chip it wasn't like she wanted me anymore anyways.
Nothing added up and no matter how hard I wracked my brain or how many times I had asked mom, I got nothing. All I know is one day I was living at home playing outside with my sister, the next I was in the car with bags piled all around me as I watched us pull farther away from my home. It was as if mom wanted to erase that whole aspect of my life and press the restart button without telling me why.
Nostalgia hits me square in the face and I don't move from my spot until a much larger arm brushes against mine. Adonis stands next to me and soon sound comes back into my world. I hear people. A lot of people.
Is there a party going on?
"No, just our normal Sunday evenings until Ace and Lashes head back to school."
"Who's Ace and Lashes?"
"Your sister and her best friend," he says matter of fact.
"Why does my sister have a weird nickname? And her friend?"
He touches the small of my back, which causes me to suck in a quick breath and straighten my posture. He pushes me to the gate going to the backyard. I have to practically run in order to keep up with him and soon he's swinging open the gate. "TreeTrunk. I found something that belongs to you."
The sight in front of make makes me freeze on the spot.
What is this place?