Biker's Virgin

I nodded and stood, thankful to be leaving. Chris had already left, having been picked up by his parents ten minutes earlier. I followed my mother as she walked out of the station and into the parking lot. She kept walking in silence all the way to the last parking space. When we reached her Range Rover, she opened the doors without a word. I climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

That’s when she finally erupted. “Emerson Michael Reed,” she said, her voice sharp and even-toned. “What in the hell did you think you were doing?”

I’d have preferred she yelled at me. It wouldn’t have been as scary. “Mom, it's not as bad as—”

“You’re right. It's way worse than that! Way worse!”

“Mom, I wasn’t—”

“Just stop, Emerson. I'm Dean of Faculty! Do you understand what kind of position this is going to put me in? Do you? My son, the dean’s underage son, caught with a ridiculous amount of alcohol in his apartment! Do you realize how negatively this is going to reflect on me? Not to mention that this can go on your permanent record, Emerson.”

I hung my head in shame. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn't think about that.”

“It seems like you haven't been doing much thinking, at all. Now, I warned you last semester, Emerson, I warned you when your grades came out so disappointingly, that I would not tolerate another slip-up. And what did you go and do? This. This.”

“Mom, I wasn’t even there for the party. I’ve been at Dad’s for two days. I just got home, I was trying to break it all up when the police arrived. I never even had a drink. Plus, I've been doing way better this semester, I've been working hard. I haven’t been skipping out on any classes, and—”

“I don’t even want to hear it. Can’t change anything at one o’clock in the morning. You're staying at my place tonight, and I have half a mind to make you move out of that apartment and back in with me where I can keep a proper eye on you. Maybe prevent something like this from happening again. The only thing I want to hear from you now is 'I'm sorry, and this will never, ever happen again'.”

“Mom, please—”

“Ehhh,” she held a hand up. “Did you not hear me?”

I breathed in deeply and shook my head before speaking. “I'm sorry, Mom. This will never, ever happen again.”

We drove the rest of the way to Mom’s house in uncomfortable silence. There was no way to gauge how much anger was stewing beside me and I knew the best thing to do was not to even try.

By the time we arrived, some of her wrath had dissipated.

“I guess you haven't had anything to eat for a while huh?” she said.

“Nope. Pretty much as soon as I got off my bike after coming back from Dad's place, I walked in and got arrested. I'm starving.”

“I'll fix you some sandwiches, then. By the way, how’s your dad doing?” she asked.

“Pretty good, considering. Doctor says he’ll be back to normal in about six weeks.”

“Good. Glad he’s gonna be okay. Now go on to your room. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks, Mom. And, I’m sorry.”

I trudged off to my old room, which was exactly as it had been when I had lived there a couple of years before—the sports posters, team flags, and trophies of my childhood and teenage years were all still there. In one corner, my electric guitar and amplifier sat. I hadn't touched them in quite a while. For a period in my teenage years, I'd become quite the proficient guitarist, but after I graduated from high school, I kind of gave up on it.

I sat down in my old easy chair, turned on the amp, and picked up the guitar. It was like being in the presence of an old friend I’d known for years but hadn't seen in ages. It was comforting. I immediately felt better after strumming a few chords and wondered why I hadn't played for so long. After I played a few songs, I realized just how much I missed playing music.

When Mom brought in a plate of sandwiches, it was kind of hard to not feel like a kid again in a really big way. “Wash up the plate when you're done,” she said. “I've gotta get some sleep. It's been a stressful evening.”

“Thanks again, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Emerson. I love you.”

“Night, Mom. Love you, too.”

I ate the sandwiches in three minutes flat. They tasted as good as I remembered them being back in the day. In some ways, it wasn't so bad to be back home. The feeling, however, didn't last long once the thoughts of the arrest and what Brooke had done came flooding back. I got undressed and climbed into my old bed, falling into a restless sleep.

***

Chris was sitting in front of the TV with a blank look on his face when I walked into the apartment the next day.