Page 2 of Bitsy
“I get that,” I sigh. “I really do, Mikey. But it’s a biker’s convention. We go every year and you all know everyone who shows up. It’s not like I’m going to meet a bunch of strangers. I have friends there. You have friends there. Heck, even dad has friends who go. It’s not like it’s one of those wild ones that I always ask to go to. This one is familiar to everyone. Just in a new location.”
“I’m sorry, Bitsy, but I’m not going to help you sneak away. If the convention was someplace other than Harborbrook, Kentucky, I might have considered it. Now, get back in the house before the sun sets.”
With nothing left to say, he turns and heads towards my house where Uncle Shadow sits waiting.
“Mom, Mikey says my house isn’t livable until tomorrow.”
“You’re always welcome here, sweetheart,” she says, wrapping me in the warmest of hugs. “You remind me of Justin. You got a lot of your personality from him.”
I smile. Mom was my birth mom, but she and dad are not technically my biological parents. Mom agreed to be a surrogate for her brother, Justin, and his wife, Tiffany. Tiffany had developed lung cancer and had her eggs frozen before starting her treatments on the off chance that the chemo and radiation treatments would destroy her reproductive organs. Shortly before she passed away, she asked mom to be her surrogate so that my father would still have a piece of her once she was gone.
After mom became pregnant, my biological mother passed away and my father was killed shortly before I was born.
Mom and dad have never hidden that part of my past from me, and for that I’m grateful. I have the most amazing parents in the world and knowing that I’m their daughter because they chose me is a feeling of love unlike any other I have ever known.
But…
My dad is an overprotective pain in the butt.
“I think I’m going to go ahead and lie down,” I tell mom. “Maybe watch some tv before getting some sleep. You know, since I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Your father loves you,” mom tells me, still holding me tightly. “He loves you so much that he’s in a constant state of fear that you’re going to go out into the big bad world and get hurt. He only wants what’s best for you.”
“Maybe what’s best for me is a few days outside of his walls of protection,” I tell her.
“Maybe,” she whispers. “But, when the time is right, your dad will let go just enough to let you live. Just give him time, sweetheart.”
I don’t need to remind mom that I’m twenty-six years old. My time has already been cut in half and if I wait any longer…well, life will pass me by.
“Love you, mom,” I say. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I pull from her reluctant hug and head to my room. I understand Daddy’s fear. I truly do. But he doesn’t understand mine.
So, I’ll lie here and wait until everyone is asleep. Then I’m leaving for the convention. When I return, I will willingly walk back into the bars of protection that my family offers with a smile on my face.
But I just need these next few days to think. To remember. To let go of the fear that has been threatening to drown me for weeks now.
I need this one last hoorah before my life turns upside down.
Chapter One
Bitsy
Under the cover of darkness, I slip out of my room, careful not to wake my slumbering family. My heart races with a heady mix of anticipation and guilt as I pack my belongings and prepare my motorcycle for the journey ahead.
As the night swallows me, the engine’s growl harmonizes with the exhilaration that courses through my veins. The wind whips against my face, carrying whispers of freedom and the thrill of the open road. I embrace the solitude of the ride, the black ribbon of asphalt unfurling beneath my wheels, leading me to a world beyond the familiar confines of our club.
The sun travels the sky as I ride with an unyielding determination, pushing through fatigue and uncertainty. Every mile traveled is a testament to my thirst for independence, a refusal to be confined by the chains of expectation.
I travel for hours, ignoring the constant vibration of the phone in my pocket. Ignoring my primal needs and just enjoying the freedom of fresh air through my wind-whipped hair. Having forgone my helmet, my hair flows freely with each passing mile.
My heart aches for my parents. I know that they’re worried about me, but if they only knew what I knew, they would understand my taste for freedom. Even if it’s just for these next few days.
The roads are shrouded in darkness as the initial droplets of rain make contact with my face. Yet, it hardly fazes me. In this instance, nothing else matters. A broad smile graces my lips as the heavens themselves seem to weep, concealing the quiet tears that escape my own eyes.
I lift my hands from the bike's handles, tossing them in the air, and I just yell. Is it a shout of happiness, the taste of freedom, or anger?
Maybe it’s all three.