Biker's Virgin

I hesitated and suppressed the urge to gulp. I had thought I was doing okay financially. But that was before stepping foot into this store. This kind of store put me in a world of grandeur and opulence, and I realized that I was doing well compared to the kids in the neighborhood I used to live in, but not even close compared to the kind of people who walked into a store like this and felt comfortable in it.

“Sir?”

“Ah… Can I know the price of that ring over there?” I asked, as I pointed to a thin wedding band encrusted with small stones on the band and a modest solitaire diamond in the very center. It was one of the smaller and simpler designs, and I decided that as a result, it would also be on the cheaper side.

“That ring is seven thousand, five hundred dollars.”

Again, I repressed the urge to whistle loudly. Instead, I kept my composure and nodded as though I had been completely prepared for that price.

“That’s a little over my budget,” I said. “Do you have rings that are…less expensive?”

I wondered if it was my imagination or if Rodney pursed his lips a little. He slid down the counter and pointed to another ring with a tiny diamond in the center. It was almost Spartan in appearance, compared to everything else, but I liked it.

“That ring retails for four thousand, two hundred dollars, sir.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Thank you.”

I turned around and walked out of the store, knowing that I’d probably never go back there again. I headed to the supermarket in a fog of thought and ended up forgetting three of the eleven items on my grocery list. When I got back home, all I could think of was Megan, so I called her, but there was no reply. I wondered what Paul would do in my place.

It was strange to think of Paul now. He seemed so far removed from the world I’d grown accustomed to.

I usually avoided thinking of him, usually because it meant picturing him in jail clothes sitting in a dank cell. I knew my imagination wasn’t even close to the real thing, but I kept jumping to worst-case scenario. It had been a long time since I’d visited him, and I wondered if he was angry with me. I wondered if he was hurt.

We had been close at one point, before our falling out. We had been as close as brothers could be. And then our lives had diverged, and our choices had shaped the rest of our lives.

I wanted to talk to someone, and I realized that someone was Megan. There were signs of her all over my apartment now. She kept a few clothes here in case of emergencies and a jacket that was currently thrown across the sofa.

Some of her books were lying on the coffee table in front of the television. There was some of her leftover meatloaf in the fridge, and there was a dream-catcher she had found at a flea market hung over my window. Her scent was stamped all over my apartment and as comforting as it was, it also reminded me that she was not here, and that made me miss her even more.

I wanted to try calling her again, but I didn’t want to be a pain, so I forced away the impulse and started making mac and cheese for dinner.

I was almost done with dinner when my phone started ringing. “Megan?” I said, picking it up.

“Hey, you.” Her voice was like honey. “Sorry I missed your call.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“What’s up?”

“Uh…nothing,” I said lamely.

“Nothing?” she repeated, and she sounded amused.

“I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You sound a little down?” she said gently.

“Not down,” I clarified. “Just…contemplative, I suppose.”

“Would you like some company?”

I smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I felt her smile. “See you in a few minutes.”

“Megan?” I said quickly, before she could hang up.

“Yes?”