Biker's Virgin

“Your brother was a drug addict,” I said. “A drug addict who also got my sister addicted to drugs.”

“So you’re blaming him. This is all his fault. He ended up addicted to drugs because a fucking doctor prescribed him Oxys. He put his trust in a doctor and got completely screwed over, and then another doctor comes along and beats him within an inch of his life.”

Maybe you could just...rough him up a little. That was how my mother had put it when she came to me that night. Your father doesn’t know that I’m talking to you about this, she’d said. He wouldn’t be okay with this sort of thing at all, you know that. But what else can we do, Cole? What other choice do we have?

No other choice, really. I knew that my parents had tried to pay Sam off. Unbeknownst to my sister, they’d given him $4,000 in cash—probably more cash than anyone in his family had ever seen at one time—if he would just disappear from my sister’s life. Had they told me they were going to do such a thing, I would have told them not to, because all Sam was going to do would be to buy drugs with it. Marissa had only just started using at that point; it was still early enough that she could’ve gotten clean without being sent off to rehab. But with Sam’s newfound wealth, the two of them were able to take off, hole up in a cabin somewhere for a few months, and have all the drugs they wanted. When Marissa finally reappeared again, she was hooked, and it was because they’d been able to afford all those drugs with the money my parents had given them.

And so my mother, my prim and proper mother who objected to the use of pesticides on the front lawn because it would kill the earthworms, had come to me that one night, at her wit’s end, not knowing what else to do.

And I had agreed, because I thought a good ass-kicking would make Sam realize that dating my sister came with too much shit for him to deal with.

I was wrong, though.

My parents hired the state’s top criminal defense attorney, and the charges against me were dropped, Marissa was sent away to detox, and we thought that we’d be able to begin the healing process.

Again, though—we were wrong.

“My brother said he saw your parents at his job a few weeks ago,” Shannon said. “They ignored him. Big surprise.”

“They might not have seen him,” I lied.

“Not that there would be anything to say other than an apology. Are you even sorry for what you did in the least? Do you care? Do you ever think about that?”

“Of course I think about it,” I said. That was not a lie, though I’d thought about it less and less as time went by. It was just the nature of things. I could say the same a

bout Marissa, too—I’d thought about her every single day for months after she died, but then I’d realize, here and there, that a day had gone by, then another, where I hadn’t thought about her. I’d never forget her, of course, but things that were once front and center have a way of shifting, drifting back to the shadows, once enough time has elapsed. “I do think about it,” I repeated. “No one wanted any of this to happen; I can promise you that. This was not how anyone pictured things working out.”

“But you just get to go on with your life like nothing ever happened,” she said. “While my brother is struggling with his day-to-day reality. Simple things, like remembering to brush his teeth or how to scramble an egg. It’s been a blessing that he’s managed to hold onto this job for as long as he has, but who knows if that’s going to last? Nothing for you has changed, though.”

Oh, if she only knew. But what would she do with that information, if I told her, if I was honest with her, about just how much my life had changed?

“How long are you going to be with Mr. Geary?” she asked.

“Half an hour to 45 minutes,” I said.

She nodded tightly. “Then I think I’ll just plan on coming back then. I don’t think I can be in your vicinity.”

“I understand,” I said.

I felt far more shaken up after my encounter with Shannon than I cared to admit. I tried to push it out of my mind after she left, and I went inside to listen to Mr. Geary’s list of complaints, but I was distracted, unsettled. After I left Mr. Geary’s, I had a 20-minute drive to the next patient’s house, and I was glad for the time in the car, nothing but the pavement in front of me, the tall trees rushing by. There weren’t many things that I wished I could have done differently in my life, but that whole thing with Sam was certainly one of them. After the charges were dropped, my mother and I never talked about what had happened either, and as far as I knew, my father didn’t know that she had been involved at all. It was better that way; it was better to let him think this was just something that an overprotective brother had done on his own—and maybe I would have, even if my mother had never brought it up—but I still sometimes wondered how things might’ve worked out if my mother had never come to me that night and suggested I do that.

Chapter Twenty-One

Allie

I could tell that something was bothering Cole, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it, even when Declan ran off to play with a couple of boys he knew in the sand box. We’d ridden bikes down the bike trail and made a stop at this playground so Declan could get out of the trailer and stretch his legs. Cole and I sat on one of the benches, drinking water and eating an apple. I took my shoes off, pushed my toes through the wood chips, and stretched my calves.

We’d gotten an early start that morning, leaving right after we’d had breakfast, so at first, I just assumed that Cole was still waking up and he’d be in a better mood once we had been riding around for a little while, but that didn’t really seem to be the case at all. He had me ride in front, and though he never got too close behind me or anything, it felt as though I could sense this simmering eagerness in him to just pass me and pedal as fast as he could, even though he was pulling the trailer with Declan in it.

Since we weren’t riding side by side, it was harder to have a conversation, though it wouldn’t have been impossible. He was mostly giving me one-word answers, though, so I eventually stopped saying anything and just rode my bike, enjoying the scenery. The bike trail wound its way through the woods, and the smell of pine was strong in the air. It wasn’t too humid out, which was nice, and the people that we passed, going in the opposite direction, all smiled and said hello.

That was nice, but I still wasn’t sure what was going on with Cole.

As we sat there next to each other, a running commentary had started up in my head with a litany of possibilities over why he was acting like this. I’d done something to upset him. I was being annoying without realizing it. He just realized he didn’t actually like me that much. I tried to ignore this little voice, but it was proving almost impossible. I also hated the fact that almost all of the possibilities I was coming up with were about me—that I was unaware I was doing something irritating, that I’d done something to make him mad—as though I didn’t have the self-esteem to just accept that maybe he was having a bad day.

“Is everything all right with you?” I finally asked.

He’d been looking off in the distance, not in the direction of the sand box, where Declan was still playing, but toward the field that had a track going around it.