Zenith Fulfilled (12 page)

She laughed because it was so not true. And so nice to hear he thought that of her.

“No, really, Rebecca, what the hell? You care so much about my feelings now? You sure didn’t last week. What changed? Your mother? Screw her! She should have faith in you, and not plant her doubts on you.”

“She doubts me because I’m not really a writer, Rob. And last week, I didn’t want to see you as a person. And now…”

“You do? Why? What’s the sudden change?”

“You’re different from what I imagined.”

“How so?”

“You’re nice. Far nicer than I thought. I shouldn’t have pushed you to do this. I shouldn’t have even thought I could do this. I work in a cafeteria and I only do that because my husband left me. I’m pathetic. And I thought, I wanted this to change that for me. But it won’t. And I did it at the cost of other people. You. Joelle. Nick. I shouldn’t have done any of this.”

“But you did start this, and now you’re goin
g to back out? Why do you want to change things now?”

She shrugged listlessly and Rob watched her before he suddenly straightened. “You bring a jacket with you?”

“A jacket? What does that have to do with anything?”

He was gone then, looking around in a closet. He came back out with the same leather jacket he had on last Friday and threw it at her. “Wear that.”

“Wear this? Where?” she asked, automatically following him as he walked out through his laundry room towards the garage. He went over to the workbench and grabbed a helmet, which he threw at her. She caught it more out of surprise then anything. He went to his motorcycle, swinging a leg over, and fastening his helmet before he rocked the beast forward, and off the kickstand. Then he started it, and it roared to life like a loud monster suddenly set free in the garage. She stared, open-mouthed, at him, then down at the helmet in her hand. He expected her to climb onto that? No freaking way. No. Never.

But he kept looking at her and tilted his head to come on. She stood there, her eyes wide with disbelief, and shook her head no. The engine was way too loud to even yell no. Hell no!

His incessant stare was daring her. She could see it in his eyes. His insistent wave that she hurry up finally made her take a breath and step forward. She was almost feeling surreal that she could be doing this. Did he have any idea how dangerous these things were? She’d have hog-tied her children to their beds before she’d ever let them ride on one. And yet he wanted her to get on and ride with him on it? She couldn’t. She had too many responsibilities. She was a mother and had a life to lead, and a role model to fulfill, and she didn’t intend to lose it by faceplanting somewhere on the highway.

But then again, the rumbling engine was somehow... thrilling. The way it reverberated throughout her entire system
, as if it got inside her and shook her, making her open her eyes wider. It made her much more aware that she was breathing, and alive.

She stopped beside it
, feeling terrified. He couldn’t really mean that she, Rebecca Randall would get on behind him, Rob Williams. It made no sense and didn’t compute. It was a stupid thing to do. A pointless thing to do. Although a potentially fun thing to do… But she didn’t do things that were pointless even if they were fun.

All of a sudden, she found herself putting the helmet on and strapping it under her chin. It was too loose. Great! She’d die just because the helmet didn’t fit her quite right. Rob suddenly rolled the beast back onto the kickstand and swung his leg off. He was right next to her, flashing a grin as his hands came around her waist and he lifted her,
placing her on the bike. He climbed back on, and shifted the bike around again, using one leg to hold them up. He was almost too short to do so and she felt awkward behind him then. Holding herself as far back on the seat as she could, her back already ached from the strain at the uncomfortable position. She felt Rob’s hands on her wrists and looked down, watching him bring her hands to his waist. She was supposed to… what? Snuggle at his back and hold onto him? She didn’t want to hold onto him. She didn’t want to touch him. She sure as hell didn’t want to like doing it.

Then he gunned the engine from idle to first gear and it took off with
a sudden, jolting leap. She squealed and easily clung to Rob’s waist. She held on under his jacket so she would not die falling off in his driveway. She pressed against him as close as she could, with the strange undulations of the bike scaring her. She closed her eyes tightly and held her breath as she started counting to one hundred in an attempt to stave off the panic attack she felt brewing.

Then slowly, opening one eye after several seconds, she happily didn’t feel the pavement sliding over her face. She opened the other eye
and turned her head to the side and looked. Then she breathed and embraced the new sensations she was experiencing She was doing it! She was behind Rob on the motorcycle and they were cruising through the neighborhood.

The air blew over her face as the bike responded to each subtle dip and bump of the road. Together, their bodies followed the gentle sway and curve of the machine. It was... thrilling. Totally exhilarating. The wind whipping past her, and being out in the open, made her feel like they were flying. Her heart swelled at the thrill of it, not to mention, the speed. Oh God, it was breathtakingly scary. She almost forgot to breathe, she was so scared, and terrified, but ever so thrilled.

“Hold on now.”

Rebecca looked forward at Rob’s shout.
Hold on now
? What did he think she was doing? She was clutching onto him for dear life. The lives of her children. Her cats. Her dog. She was already holding on; what did he mean by that?

Then she saw why he said it. He was signaling and they were just then, cruising onto the freeway onramp. She nearly screamed in horror. There was traffic there and lots of it. Vehicles were passing them and moving sixty to seventy miles an hour.

Then the bike shot forward as if he pressed some magical rocket switch. They were launched forward, and soon amidst the flow of traffic along I-5. She did scream them, because her heart felt like it might beat right out of her chest. She felt sure she would die then, either from a heart attack or crashing head first onto the pavement at sixty-five miles per hour.

Rebecca’s eyes were tightly shut, and her heart was exploding. Her breath was snatched by the wind, the relentless wind now tearing over them and right through the jacket. She was freezing. She couldn’t breathe and feared she would surely die. All she could think was that her mother was right, along with everyone else. How could she have ever thought she was capable of doing anything more in her life than she already had? It probably served her right to die while pretending to be someone and something she obviously wasn’t.

To Rebecca, it seemed like she was being sucked into a strange vortex for long moments of air whizzing past her ears and hyper sound. When the bike suddenly began slowing down, and her body felt like it was returning to Earth, after her heart resumed its place in her body, she finally peeked an eye open, and happily found the blur of colors started to make sense again. She saw cars, buildings, houses, and trees as the bike shifted gears, coming to a stop at a traffic signal.

A few blocks further and Rob pulled the bike into a park
. It had a small grassy section with a handful of parking spots, a picnic area, and a great view of Seattle.

Rebecca’s heartbeat finally began to slow down and regulate. She took a breath to reassure herself she was still alive, and all was intact. Rob parked, putting the kickstand down as he swung a leg off, and unbuckled his helmet. She fumbled with her helmet as she dismounted the steely beast that had her entire body uncontrollably vibrating. Her legs cramped, nearly collapsing when she tried to stand.

She finally looked up after gathering her bearings, as well as her breath. Rob was staring at her and it took her a second to realize he wasn’t laughing this time, but grinning at her. In fact, he almost looked proud of her. And Rebecca suddenly, and quite strangely, felt proud of herself also.

Finally, Rebecca was able to stand up straight. “What was that for?”

“That? As in the ride? For fun, Rebecca. Don’t you remember what it’s like to have fun? Seems to me you probably haven’t had much of it in the last few years. Come on; let’s go sit over there.”

He
walked over to a park bench and sat down. Rebecca followed only because her butt hurt from all the hard landings and she was feeling a bit shaky still.

“I have fun. But not death-defying, throwing myself out onto moving pavement kind of fun.”

“Well, that’s how I have fun. You asked me how I stay sober. That’s how. When I’m restless, and all the triggers to drink are going off, that’s what I do. I climb onto my bike, day or night, doesn’t matter, and I ride the hell out of the craving, dispelling my own urges for self destruction.”

“Do you get lots of those urges?”

He glanced at her. “Yes. I get lots of those urges. I’m not a nice guy, Rebecca, so don’t expect that from me. You want something out of me, you’re getting it. Don’t confuse it as something else.”

“Confuse what? How?”

“Confuse why you’re doing this. You want something from me; so don’t waffle now about getting it. This is business, between you and me. And I want that ten thousand; that’s the only reason why I’m being civil to you. I wouldn’t go so far as to classify that as nice. And you shouldn’t make that mistake either.”

“Money. Right. We both want money from this.”

“Right. So let’s make sure that remains our focus.”

“Okay. I have that in focus.”

“No, you don’t. The first time your mother says you can’t do this, and you’re ready to back out. Screw anybody who doesn’t believe in you! You have more self-confidence than anyone I know! So use it, and capitalize on it. Don’t waffle on it in the process, or yourself. Write this book.”

“So you can get paid.”

“Yeah! So I can get paid.”

“You know, you could have said all of this back when we were at your house, and spared me from shaving a few years off my life.”

“I was feeling one of those urges.”

“To do what?”

He looked back towards the view, and she thought his shoulders appeared tense. “Self-destructive things.”

He mumbled his answer, and Rebecca didn’t know what he meant. Did he mean drinking? What could’ve brought on his mood? Why did he insist that she
pursue the road that she set for herself and practically forced him to accompany her on? Suddenly, he seemed so convinced that she should continue, no matter what. And saying it was all for the money didn’t totally ring true. To date, she couldn’t detect any hunger for money or desperation, much less, a sense of neediness coming from him.

“You can’t tell anyone in my family I did this.”

“Not that I’ll see anyone in your family. But why not? You took a motorcycle ride; it’s not exactly like snorting blow up your nose or anything.”

“No. But to them, they’re all tied together. You don’t take any risks, especially like this, in my family. They’d lecture me up one side and down the other.”

“Risks like roping a drunk into hanging out with you? Seems like you don’t follow the family rules so strictly.”

“You’re wrong. I’m usually the one who does exactly what I’m suppose
d to. I’m the perpetual volunteer. For my family, their get-togethers, my kids’ school stuff; and I’m usually number one on the A-list of time donors to call for help. I can’t say no. I never learned how.”

“Except with me. You wouldn’t take my no for an answer.”

“That was different. It was necessary.”

“I still don’t see why I’m so necessary to the success of your book.”

“Rob, you don’t think you’re necessary to anything or anybody. It could have been why you ended up becoming an alcoholic to begin with.”

He glanced at her, appearing startled, before his expression became troubled. “Where’s that observation coming from?”

She shrugged. “It just seems like you don’t believe you’re worthy of another chance despite all the people around you who want to give you a second chance! It seems like you think you don’t deserve to sing again, or ever be happy again, because you screwed up… one time.”

“I didn’t just screw up
, Rebecca. I monumentally changed some people’s lives.”

“You wear that on your sleeve
, Rob. Everyone knows exactly why you blame yourself for the reason your future is so hopelessly doomed.”

“I do not.”

“You do, too.”

He jumped up, appearing so quick and light on his feet. “We should go. You’ve got kids to get back to.”

She stood up more slowly. “Why is that such a raw nerve with you? The whole self-loathing thing? You did bad things, that’s true, but you’ve also done a lot to rectify them. More than most, I would say.”

“What exactly do you think I’ve accomplished?”

“You got sober. You were sorry. That is so much more than most people admit. You changed your ways, your life, your career, and everything. That counts, Rob. And it counts for a lot.”

She looked into his eyes as she spoke
, but eventually, shifted her gaze away. There was something becoming too familiar in the way they were looking at each other. There was something that felt too easy in their being together. And too right.

“I was worried this whole thing was going to portray me as a useless drunk. Now, I’m worried that you’re going to make me sound like a tragic, but wonderful, almost hero-like man, which I’m not. Don’t do that
, Rebecca; you can’t ignore what I did. The black-and-white facts of the man and the monster that I was. Or what I did. Don’t skip over that. Don’t make it sound inspirational just because it makes it easier for you to look me in the eye. You seem to be seeking some kind of connection with me. And you want me to be nicer than I am. But what I did wasn’t nice, Rebecca. I was nasty, and for reasons that run far deeper than just because I was drunk.”

“That’s half your story
. Not the whole story, or the whole man. I’m interested in writing both. And you should be interested too.”

He sighed. “You know what I’m the most interested in? I’m interested in forgetting what I did! How heroic is that? I wish I could drink just so I could be numb again, and not feel. And not care. I want to forget, but I can’t. I can’t forget everything I lost. And I can’t deny how bitter I get over what I had, and how I lost it. It was all my fault, and I’m still bitter. That doesn’t make me so wonderful.”

Rebecca almost asked Rob if it was because of losing Joelle. But for some reason, she wasn’t ready to hear the answer yet. That was wrong, she should have wanted to know. Facts. Truth. That’s what she intended to write. But still, she didn’t ask.

She looked into his eyes. “There are worse things a man could do than just be a drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like you could have walked out on your kids. Or smacked your wife around. Or a thousand other horrible things.”

Rob looked at her strangely. “Like what, Rebecca? Like your husband? Did he hurt you?”

Rebecca turned away. “I didn’t mean Doug specifically. I mean, yeah, he left the kids, but I wasn’t talking about my life. I was giving examples of things you aren’t guilty of doing.”

He was quiet for a long moment. The overcast day was gradually, unnoticeably losing light. Nothing overt or spectacular, just a steady dimming of sunlight. “I wasn’t real nice to my wife. I might not have hit her, but I did abuse her. I was mean to her. Moody. I had sex with her when I was high or drunk. I doubt I ever asked. I also doubt she had the guts to say no to me. I threw our bedding out the window once when she had the gall to say no to me. I made her responsible for my entire being, and blamed her for everything good or bad that happened to me. I eroded every trace of personality, and self-confidence she ever had. Ask her, she’ll tell you. Or ask your brother, he’ll tell you.”

Rebecca licked her lips. “Then why doesn’t she hate you now? Why did she so readily forgive you?”

He shrugged. “Because she’s a nice person.”

“Or maybe, she understands you were suffering from an addiction, and took the time and energy to get help. You got sober, and changed it all. Maybe that’s the real key to the story of you as a person.”

Rob shook his head. “There’s no key. There’s just a series of stupid days, weeks, years, and idiotic actions with no miraculous epiphanies or revelations. I was a drunk and acted like it.”

She saw him getting angry and frustrated with her. His fists were clenched. Still, he didn’t scare her. “May I quote you on that?”

He glared at her and she smiled at him until he finally smiled back, but looked away, shaking his head. “You can. Make that my entire story.”

Rebecca shook her head. “No. I decide on
what’s the entire story. And I think I’m ready to start writing it.”

He groaned. “Great. So it starts.”

She nodded. “You said business is business, and I should stick to my guns. So I think you’re right. My only real problem is how do I get back to your house? I don’t think I can survive that freeway again.”

“I can take you on the back ro
ads. It’s longer, but we’ll get there.”

“Maybe I could survive that.”

“Probably easier than I’ll survive your book. Did you like it at all? The bike?”

“Just between us? Yeah, I did. I liked the slow parts. That was flying. Enough for me, that is. When you went fast, I felt like I was on a rocket, about to explode. No, thanks. But I liked the slow parts, and I can see why it so attracts you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, because I’m always just one drink away from totally combusting.”

****

Rob didn’t know what possessed him to put Rebecca on his bike. Maybe it was the way she looked, or the way she was looking at him. It seemed so obvious that her self-doubts were because of her mother’s remarks, and not a sudden desire to abandon her project. She was too sure of herself before to suddenly believe she wanted out, and he didn’t buy it.

Or perhaps it was because of the way she suddenly began looking at him. She seemed to be studying him closely, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. What could she have been thinking? Was he suddenly someone that she found attractive? Or likeable?

The problem was: he found her that way: likeable, interesting, and attractive. She was a normal, suburban mother of three. Nothing mysterious or intriguing about her. But to him, she was a new breed and one he didn’t know. A kind of person he’d never encountered. He didn’t know anything about mothering. He didn’t know about developing relationships with a mother and sisters and brothers. He had none. No one. No family to call his own. No siblings. And even his parents didn’t factor into his life. So Rebecca was very interesting to him. He wondered what each day must be like, while having all that responsibility.

It couldn’t have been that much fun; yet, it didn’t look quite as miserable as he always assumed it must be.

****

Two weeks went by before Rob finally heard from Rebecca again. They left things undefined when she drove away from his house that Sunday. She said she’d call as soon as she was ready for him to read what she had written. They both were strangely silent, and avoided even glancing at each other after they returned to his house. They silently dismounted from the bike, then stood awkwardly in his garage, saying goodbye. He wasn’t sure why it seemed so weird, but neither could deny that it was.

Then a large envelope showed up in the mail with her return address. Inside were the first three chapters of her book, written on pages that were neat and crisp. Also, clipped to the top was a check for five thousand dollars, made out to him and signed by Nick Lassiter.

Rob stared at the signature, and the promised amount. Surprised that it was real, and that they were serious, Rob considered it a lot of money to receive all at once for a guy like him. Knowing it was Nick Lassiter signing the check was something
he couldn’t compute, no matter how long he spent contemplating the circumstances. His first reaction was to tear it up: all of it, the check, the chapters, the entire package that Rebecca so painstakingly put together and sent him. He knew, somehow, this was a direct reflection of how she was: thorough, organized, diligent, and so honest. All for his eyes only. Everything out in the open.