Found in Understanding: Refuge Series Book Three by Debbie Zello (18)

Chapter Eighteen

Epic~adjective~of or relating to the extension beyond the usual or ordinary in size or scope~his genius was epic. Yup, the party was all that and more.

My suite-mates had taken over the dining room. How they obtained permission for that, I will never know. When I asked all I got was that all- knowing wink from Ashley.

There was a stern no drinking policy for the dorm but that too was overlooked for our no-holds-barred party. Emma knew an up and coming local band. Their sound check was amazing. With everyone bringing munchies and their own drinks all that was left was the decorating.

The party began with a loud vibrating rendition of Happy Birthday played by the band and sung by the crowd. Everyone that was celebrating their twenty-first birthday this year was herded to the center of the room and given a glass of some concoction to drink. It tasted like jet fuel so I only took a sip and gave the rest to John, as he was the closest to me. He didn’t seem to mind the taste.

I found a table of friends to sit and talk with for a while. As I was listening to a story, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a guy I didn’t know. “Hi.” I said.

“Hi. I’m Ty, a friend of Emma’s. I was hoping you might dance with me,” he said.

“I’m not much of a dancer but I’ll give it a try,” I said, smiling. He took my hand to walk closer to where the band had set up.

The song that was being played was a slow tempo. He slid his hands around my waist and I placed mine on his broad shoulders. He was taller than me, maybe five-eleven or so. His hair was dirty blonde and his eyes were a soft green. His smile was his best feature. It was warm and friendly.

“Emma said I should get to know you. She said you were very special.”

“Emma exaggerates. I’m just me, what you see is what you get.”

“I’ve known Emma for a long time and I’ve never known her to exaggerate. She told me you were beautiful. She certainly had that right,” he said, sweetly His eyes were so focused on me I felt shy. I looked away.

“Thank you. Do you go to Yale?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“No, I’m at the University of New Haven. I’m in the forensics program.”

“That must be interesting. I’m not that good in science. I’m an English major.”

“I’m not very good in English. I can’t spell to save my life and creative writing was never fun for me,” he said laughing. His laugh was almost musical. I wanted to hear it again.

The song finished and we just stood there. I’m not up on dance etiquette so I wasn’t sure if I should just walk away or if he would bring me back to where I was sitting. I felt so awkward standing there. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter where we can talk?” he asked.

“The TV room is probably empty. I’m sure everyone is here right now.”

“I was thinking your room,” he said.

“I’m not comfortable with that, Ty. I’ve never brought a guy to my room. I’m sure Emma told you that too. Thank you for the dance,” I said walking away.

It took us most of the weekend to pick up the mess from our party. Emma had asked me how Ty and I got along. I told her he was nice but not my type which sounded funny to me because I had never thought of myself as having a type. I just knew I wasn’t going to hook-up with a bunch of men for one night stands. I was there for an education, yes, just not that kind.

I spent the holidays at Paul’s parents. He insisted saying, “My parents love to take in strays. Cats, dogs, people, it’s all the same to them.” I had found a short-term roommate opportunity. I paid for all of December and January even though I wouldn’t be there that long.

We seemed to go from snowstorm to snowstorm that winter. My boots and coat got a real workout keeping me warm and dry. March came in like a lamb with warm temperatures and melting snow. By the end it was in the sixties and sunny mostly every day, with crocuses and daffodils blooming. I walked to work.

The last Friday in March, I walked out of work and crossed the street to go to class. I stopped a few yards down the street in front of a very familiar motorcycle. A shiny, heavily chromed, red ‘82 Harley FXR Superglide, parked between two cars. I couldn’t move away. The last time I saw one of these it was on its side, under a truck, next to my Royce. My hand went to my hip as my eyes teared up.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” I heard a man’s voice say.

“Yes, she certainly is. Do you know who owns it?” I asked not looking at the man.

“She’s mine.” I turned and looked behind me. If I had looked at him first, I would have known the bike was his. He was dressed in black leather from the do rag on his head to the boots on his feet. He had inky black hair and a goatee surrounding a mouth that was smiling at me. His eyes were nearly as black as his hair and I wondered how that was possible or maybe it was just a reflection of his jacket.

He walked around me to open the leather bag he had on the side and place something in it. “I knew someone that had a bike just like this one. It’s an ‘82 FXR Superglide right?”

“I’m impressed. Not too many regular women would know that. You a former biker chick or something?”

“No. I just dated a man that had one,” I said thinking about Royce. “How many of these are around, anyway?”

“Not many. I bought this one at an insurance sale. It was badly wrecked in an accident right here in New Haven a couple of years ago. It took me a whole year to bring it back to this,” he said, completely void of feeling. “Did your man sell his?”

I heard his question but my whole world had stopped spinning for that few minutes. I felt like I was in a tunnel with his voice at the far end. As I stared at the bike, he came over to me and put his hand on my arm. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think this one was his. He was killed a year and a half ago, right down the street from here. He was hit by a truck that turned right on a red light without seeing him,” I said so slowly I almost couldn’t get it all out.

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry. I’m all proud of the bike and you’re hurting,” he said with a loud sigh. “I’m called Trigger. I did three tours in the Marines and the name kinda stuck. Can I take you somewhere or do something for you?”

“No thank you. I just left work and I’m on my way to class.”

“Where do you work?”

“Over there at the coffee shop. I have the early morning shift so I can get to class. I’m sorry if I ruined your morning. Good luck with the bike,” I said turning to leave.

“Hey, I don’t even know your name?”

“It’s Neomi. It was nice to meet you Trigger. I’m glad you’re home safe,” I said walking away with my thoughts.

I shouldn’t have bothered to go to class at all that day. I spent the whole time thinking about Royce and missed everything said by my professors. It never occurred to me that his bike might be out there somewhere, that someone might be riding it.

As I walked back to my dorm, I called Royce’s house. “Hello.” his mother said.

“Hi, it’s Neomi. How are you?” I said.

“I’m okay, Neomi. How are you doing?” she said.

“I’m good, too. Busy with work and school.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I left work this morning to walk to class and I passed by a motorcycle parked in the street. It looked so much like Royce’s I stopped to take a closer look at it. The man that owns it came up behind me and told me he had purchased it from an insurance sale. He said it had been in an accident and totaled. I never asked you what happened to his bike.”

“We didn’t want it after the accident. It was totaled by the insurance company. We could have bought it back and repaired it ourselves but we just didn’t want it around as a reminder. If you’re asking if it’s his bike, I don’t know for sure. Somewhere around here, we have paperwork on it. I guess it has a VIN number the same as cars have, I’ll have to see if I can find it.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t know why I want to know; I’ll probably never see him again. It was so random it bothered me. I never thought about someone else having it. It’s stupid. Forget I even asked about it,” I said, suddenly feeling badly about bothering her with my issues.

“Don’t feel bad, Neomi. If I had been the one to see it, I would wonder too. It’s such a rare bike and to find one parked right in front of you would make you wonder. I’m curious now myself, so I am going to do some investigating. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know. How are your classes going?”

“Interesting. I’m working hard. I want to stay here to complete my masters in Romantic Poetry. I think I want to follow Royce and teach at the college level.”

“That would be a lovely tribute to him if you did. He would take a great deal of pleasure in knowing that he inspired you to teach. Teachers are a very special group of people. Often unappreciated by society but instrumental in every aspect of life.”

“It was good talking to you. Please tell the family I said hi,” I said.

“Take care, sweetheart. Bye.”