A lot.
Mostly just to get my attention as he pointed out some interesting sight or landmark, but the Christopher from three days ago wouldn’t have done that. Nor would he have joked around with me and even pranked me.
I wasn’t foolish enough to believe it would be unicorns and rainbows from here on out, but I wanted to believe I’d gotten past enough of Christopher’s walls to reach the real him. I was fully expecting him to lash out verbally or shut down completely in the future as our relationship intensified, but I was ready for it.
He was scared.
I got that.
I was terrified but for entirely different reasons. I knew how fragile life could be and how easily it could be snuffed out. Add in the fact that I knew next to nothing about Christopher’s prognosis, and I was a mess. I just did a really good job of hiding it.
“You game?” I asked Christopher. We’d already been inside my room so he could meet the other four rabbits I called family. He’d fallen in love with the little critters but hadn’t liked my lack of creativity when he’d learned the names of the last three rabbits I’d gotten.
“Thumper, Bugs, Three, Four, and Five,” Christopher had chided, his long arms crossed in front of him. “Yeah, that needs to change.”
I’d merely smiled and told him to get on it.
Now if I could only get him on the Harley.
“Aren’t these things called donor cycles or something like that?” Christopher asked.
I moved to stand next to Christopher. “Helmets,” I said as I pointed at the two helmets hanging off the handlebars. “Precious cargo,” I continued as I looked him up and down. “And the best damn teacher no amount of money can buy… my dad. Even if he hadn’t already been so safety conscious himself, my mother’s very creative threats of bodily harm if I ended up with even so much as a scratch made sure I knew the ins and outs of riding a motorcycle long before I even got on it.”
“Your dad taught you to ride motorcycles?” Christopher asked.
I nodded. “Ride them, fix them. This was his,” I said as I motioned to the bike. A pang of sadness came over me when I added, “We restored it together right after I left the army. The plan was to find another one to restore for me…” I fell silent as I thought about my parents.
Christopher’s arm came around me, and then he was leaning his head on my arm. His fingers twined with mine. No words were spoken, but he’d said a million things with the one little gesture.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
And with that, date number one commenced.
Spending time with Christopher was like watching the sun break through the darkest of storm clouds. As soon as I explained that we’d be able to talk to each other through the helmets’ built-in communication systems, he was off and running with the tour. Seeing the city through his eyes was unlike anything I’d expected. Of course, he knew about all the major tourist spots in the area, but his knowledge of the history and culture of each neighborhood that made up the city was amazing, especially considering he’d only spent a few of his last teenage years in Seattle.
We spent most of the morning slowly driving through the city and making a plan for the spots we wanted to check out on foot. When it came time to find some lunch, Christopher had suggested we take the ferry across the sound and check out some of the local cafes.
After a little bit of awkwardness when we were first seated at our table, we just fell into a conversation, which then led to another and another. Occasionally, there would be these little lulls where we just looked at one another.
Like now.
It wasn’t uncomfortable or weird. It was… easy. It was talking without talking.
“How was everything?” our waitress asked when she stopped by our table.
“Amazing,” Christopher said.
“Unbelievable,” I chimed in.
“How about some dessert?”
When we’d sat down, I’d noticed Christopher looking through the dessert menu, so I said, “Sure, that would be great.”
“Rush, no, I’m too full,” Christopher said.
“We’ll eat it slowly,” I responded with a grin. To the waitress, I said, “Can we have the lava cake? Two forks. Some more coffee would be great too.”
“Absolutely. Did you want ice cream with the cake?”
I looked pointedly at Christopher. He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
Once she was gone, Christopher shook his head at me and said, “You’re a bad influence.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I responded. I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table, mirroring Christopher’s stance. It closed the distance between us considerably.
“How did you get your name?” Christopher asked. “Were you named after a character in a book or movie, or is it a family name?”