Biker's Virgin

When the fire started to get low, I added another log and a few smaller branches and poked at it with a bigger stick. There was some crackling, and I stirred the ashes, watching the embers glow bright and then fade to a darker orange. It had always mesmerized me, the way fire could reduce almost anything to ash, the way that ash could so easily get picked up and carried off by the wind, only to disintegrate when it finally came to rest. And, just like that, an object that was something wasn’t anymore. It was gone.

I put the stick down and looked over at Allie.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

I went inside, quietly going up the stairs. I peeked in on Declan, who was sound asleep in his bed, the covers kicked off at the bottom of the bed. I went in and pulled them back up over him and brushed a few strands of hair back from his forehead. Then I went into my room, into my walk-in closet. I got the shoe box and pulled the letter out. I stood there and read it.

I just don’t want to live anymore. I know that’s not the right thing

to say, the right way to feel, but it’s the truth. I’ve caused other

people so much pain, and I’m so tired. I hope you can forgive me

and not blame yourselves because there is nothing anyone could

say that would change my mind. All I ever wanted was to be happy,

but for some reason, despite all the privilege I was born into,

I am unable to feeling anything but this overwhelming sadness.

I forgive you, Cole, for what you did to Sam. I know that’s not who

you really are, I know that we all end up doing things sometimes

that we don’t mean to do. I probably know that better than

anybody. Please watch out for Declan. Take care of him. I know

that Sam can’t, so you have to. You’ll be a better parent than

either of us ever could anyway, so maybe for once, I’ve done

the right thing. ~Marissa

I set the letter down on my bed and put the shoe box back into the closet. I left the letter unfolded and carried it with me outside. I dropped it into the fire pit and watched as the orange flames snaked up the page, the way the corners curled in, darkening, disintegrating until it was reduced to ash that flittered through the air like snow. Perhaps one day, when he was old enough, I would tell Declan the truth about who his parents were. We could look at old childhood pictures of Marissa, and I could tell him how she liked to swim as far as she could underwater, pretending she was a dolphin, or her favorite flavor of ice cream. But I would not tell him that she had killed herself, and I would let my mother continue to think that it had all been a terrible accident.

“What was that?” Allie asked.

“That was the letter my sister wrote,” I said. “And it was time for it to go. I don’t want to have it anymore.”

Maybe it was a little dramatic, a little over the top to do it like that. But there wasn’t a need for me to keep the letter, and now that I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t feel compelled to look at it. It was, in a way, like putting the past to rest, closing the chapter on that part of my life, and starting a new one with Allie.

I sat back down, but Allie got up, came over, and sat on my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and looked at me, a smile on her face. “I just want you to know how happy you make me,” she said. “And how I love the fact that you are so willing to put other people’s needs and well-being ahead of your own.” She kissed me, but right as I started to kiss her back, she was sliding off my lap, kneeling between my legs. She unzipped my fly. “But now I want you to let me take care of you,” she said, her smile turning coy.

The fire crackled. I couldn’t remember ever feeling happier, more content, just at ease, knowing that this was the way life was supposed to be. I leaned back in the chair and let my eyes close as I felt her gorgeous mouth press against me.

Epilogue

Allie

“I think everything’s ready,” Cole said.

We stood on the deck and surveyed the backyard, which we’d set up for the cookout we were having that afternoon. We’d strung a colored cloth pennant that I’d haphazardly managed to sew together between two maple trees, and we had covered the picnic table and the table on the deck in embroidered tablecloths that Cole’s mother had given to us. It was actually Declan’s 6th birthday party/baby shower. Declan had had a party earlier that week with friends from school, so this party would be for our families. Both sets of our parents would be coming, as well as Amy and Ben.

“You feeling all right?” Cole asked. He reached out and touched my stomach, which, at seven months pregnant, was large and unwieldy. As he said it, I could feel the baby kick and squirm inside of me, a feeling that would never get old, even when it was happening at 2 in the morning and keeping me up.

“Yeah, I feel great,” I said, even though my lower back was a little sore from carrying all this extra weight around, and my feet were definitely tired. But aside from that, I really did feel great. I had never imagined when I moved up to Maine and into that little house that my next door neighbor would end up being the love of my life, the man I would marry. We’d gotten married last year on the coast of Maine, standing on a rocky ledge with a stunning view of the Atlantic Ocean. Four months later, I found out I was pregnant.