Ride (Miki)

A chilling draft blows across my legs. Despite the summer weather, mornings at Miki's house have been startlingly cold. The altitude definitely wouldn't help things, but neither does my bedmate's tendency to steal the sheets. I remember waking up once or twice during the night to pull back the covers from her frequent tossing. Maybe the alcohol made her restless.

Speaking of which, my head feels like it's splitting open. Consequences for the rambunctious teenager in me. I don't think I would've been so frivolous before my heart attack and Yamaku to consider getting wasted at dinner with my girlfriend. Guess Miki has changed me, in that way, or I'm at least partial to her influence.

As I reach to massage my temples, hoping to soothe the ache behind my eyes, Sleeping Beauty stirs. Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles at the sight of me. “Morning, handsome.” She seems unaffected by last night's antics. I'm not so lucky, and it's written all over my face. “Headache,” I groan at her. “Never felt one this bad before.”

She sits up and slaps me on the back. I wince a bit at the sudden jolt. “A real first-timer, huh? You weren't kidding.” She sits up and walks out of her room, my eyes drawn to her swinging hips. Nothing quite like a morning show, I suppose.

I fall back into my pillow and squint my eyes shut. The light is actually painful. I make a mental note that getting absolutely hammered is not worth this level of penance. Miki returns to the bedside and sits beside me, holding a glass of ice water. “Drink this, it'll help.”

“I prefer coffee, but sure.” She laughs and assures me that would not be a good idea. “Coffee is the last thing you want right now, mister.” I sit up with her help and accept the drink, downing it quickly. “You certainly seem unaffected,” I remark. She shrugs. “Experience. When you drink as much as I did in my early high school days, you get used to the hangover.”

“Not exactly fair, you know,” I butt back. She laughs before responding. “Hang out with me enough and you'll get there. I remember my first time. Just have to suck it up and muscle through.” A snap of her fingers rings in my ears. Not exactly helpful, Miki.

“Tell ya what, let me take you for a ride. Some fresh air will help clear the migraine, at least.”

“That doesn't make sense. The sun hurts my eyes.” She reaches into her bedside drawer and retrieves a pair of sunglasses. Guess I don't have a choice.

I crawl out of bed and throw some light clothes on before we head out to her garage. Next to what I assume is the spot for the family car is a tarp-covered mound. Miki pulls the tarp away and throws it aside, revealing a rather sporty red motorcycle. She stands next to it facing me, hands on her hips and a look of pride in her eyes. “A real beauty, isn't she?” I don't know a damned thing about motorcycles, so her explanation of the schematics might as well be gibberish to me. She catches this in the middle of discussing the engine displacement and glares at me. “You getting any of this?”

I come out of my half-sleeping state. Smile and nod, Hisao, smile and nod. She laughs and shakes her head. “Honestly, Nakai, who wears the pants in this relationship again?”

“Hey, just because you can chug more, run faster, know more about cars...”

“And you cook and clean and never take the lead in bed.” Damn, she's got me. “Hey, I can't help that last one. Heart condition, you know.”

“Excuses, excuses. I'm still twice the man you are.”

“I'll make sure to pick up an apron skirt and take housewife classes, then.” A slight giggle. Despite the boyish attitude, she's still a teenage girl. She rewards my playfulness with a peck on the lips and shoves a helmet into my chest.

“Time for you to man up a bit.”

* * *

Miki proves pretty adept at riding her motorcycle, even with one hand. That must have been one of the first things she re-learned how to do, given that gleam in her eyes when she first showed it to me. After a couple rounds on the mountainside, she started trying to teach me. “It's just like riding a bike, only faster and without the pedaling.” I tried to suit up in something safer in case I crashed, but she was insistent I wouldn't need it. Too cowardly of a thing to do anyway, she claimed.

True to her word, it was easy to pick up just treating it like a regular bike. The handling was a bit different, but manageable after getting used to it. She also proved to be right on the fresh air being good for my hangover-induced migraine.

I came to a rolling stop in front of her. “Manned up enough for you?” She rubs her chin for a moment. “I give you a thumbs up.”

“Why not two?” She pouts a bit as I laugh at her expense. “Sorry, couldn't resist.”

“Sounds like someone doesn't care if he gets laid tonight or not,” she snaps with a devilish grin on her face. I give her a pout of my own. “Pulling that punch already? I thought you were above that.” She responds with a wink. “You obviously don't know me very well then.” I suppose I don't. I should work on that.

As I extend the kickstand and place my helmet on the handlebars, I hear the thud of Miki falling back into the grass. I stand over, gazing at her splayed out hair and the curves of her body, oddly accentuated by her loose-fitting shirt. She squints at me. “Little to the left there, macho.”

“So that's all I am to you? Shade?” She laughs and nods. I take a spot next to her. “You're out of luck, then.” As expected, another pout. She quickly gets over it, though, and I find her resting her head on my chest.

There's a short silence as she struggles to make herself comfortable. It's a chilly day as far as mid-July goes, but summer humidity combined with a pair of close-contact bodies still makes for high temperatures. The ground can't be much help, either. She finds something suitable and stays there. “Did I ever tell you how I lost it?” she asks, lifting her bandaged stump.

I shake my head. “No, I don't think so. Rika mentioned it once, but I don't remember.”

“It was a shop accident. We were cutting lumber for a mid-term project on the table saws. I wasn't paying attention and got my hand caught in the blade cover.” She winces a bit as she stares at her wrist. “My hand was torn to pieces. Mangled as shit. They tried to fix it at first, but decided amp'ing it was easier in the end.”

“I'm sorry. Must have been some hell you went through.”

She nods weakly. “I can still feel it every now and then. Phantom limb pains, reminders of just how fucking bad it hurt.” I connect a pair of dots in my head. “Is that why you toss so much at night?”

“Sometimes,” she mutters. I stroke her cheek, and she moves her face to kiss my knuckles. “You make it easier, though.” I'm surprised to hear this; maybe Miki is capable of this kind of commitment. Whatever the risk, I think she's worth it.

“The rhythm is weird,” she whispers, head still on my chest, “but soothing.” I run my hand through her hair and plant a kiss on top of her head. “It's not perfect,” I tell her. “I'm not perfect.”

“I don't expect you to be.” She reaches up and brings our lips together. “Just be Hisao.”

“But I thought you wanted me to man up.” She laughs.

“You're good to me. That's man enough.”

The sun is a little past its halfway point in the sky. Several hours have passed with us out here, enjoying the company. Miki sits forward and beckons to me, nudging her head toward the motorcycle. I take the hint and stand up, extending my hand to her after righting myself. A smile carves into her face, and she accepts the offer.

She picks her helmet up off the ground and straps it on. I do the same and take my place on the motorcycle. She climbs onto the seat behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head on my back. “C'mon, handsome,” she says, “take us home.”