Bikeriders Serenade

Whispers in the dark

Later that night, after the house had fallen silent, Austin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The rhythmic sound of Lucy’s breathing beside him was soothing, but it didn’t calm the restlessness that had taken hold of him. His mind kept returning to the journal—the journal that had been sitting on his bedside table, unopened and waiting.

He hadn’t intended to read it tonight. Not like this. But the quiet had settled in, and now, the thoughts of his mother, of the words she might have written, felt almost too heavy to bear.

He turned his head slightly to look at the journal, its worn leather cover barely visible in the dim light coming from the window. He could feel the weight of it, as though it was pulling at him, calling to him. What if she was writing about how scared she was? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. What if it’s too much to handle?

His mother had been a rock in his life, a constant presence that he had always looked up to. But now, as he lay there in the stillness, he wondered about her vulnerabilities, about the fears she never showed him or Ashley. What had she been like when no one was around to see her strength?

He shifted in bed, staring at the ceiling again, his thoughts racing. He could almost picture her now, sitting by the dim light of a lamp, pen in hand, tears on her cheeks as she tried to pour her heart into the pages. Was she crying when she wrote this? he wondered. Was she hiding her fear from everyone, trying to stay strong for me and Ashley, even as she was terrified?

Austin rolled over, his hand reaching for the journal once more. He imagined his mother in those moments—how she must have been terrified, not just for herself, but for them. For her children. Her love had always been so evident, but how much had she carried on her own? How much pain had she tried to shield them from?

The thought of her sitting there, fighting back tears as she wrote, made him ache. She was so scared of leaving us alone, Austin thought, but she never let us see it. She hid it, just like she always did.

His heart pounded in his chest as he thought about what lay within those pages. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to read. He hadn’t even fully grasped what he was about to face. But his mother’s voice, her words, had been left behind for him. For him to understand her, to understand how deeply she had loved him, and how much she had feared leaving him too soon.

Austin threw the blankets aside, deciding he couldn’t lie there any longer. The weight of the unknown was too much. He slid out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Lucy. She was still sound asleep, her breathing soft and even. He could hear her gentle sighs, but his thoughts were too loud. His mind was running in circles, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

He stood by the bedside table, hesitating for a moment, then gently picked up the journal. Holding it in his hands, he felt the same way he had earlier, as if the weight of it was both a comfort and a burden. He turned it over, his fingers tracing the worn edges, feeling the memories it held within its pages.

As he left the bedroom, the house was dark and still. The creak of the floorboards under his feet seemed louder than usual, but the quiet only made the emotions swirling inside him more intense. He made his way downstairs, the soft light from the lamp in the living room offering a sense of warmth.

Sitting on the couch, Austin turned the journal over in his hands. For a few minutes, he simply stared at it, his heart racing, the anticipation curling in his stomach like a tight knot. His breath was uneven, his hands trembling slightly as he opened it, the soft crack of the pages filling the silence.

He imagined his mother writing this, sitting alone in her room. She had been so brave in the moments she shared with him, so strong when it mattered most. But here, in the quiet of her own space, she must have been scared. Scared of leaving him and Ashley behind, scared of the pain she would leave with them.

Was she crying when she wrote this? he wondered again. He could almost see her now: her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back her tears, her hand moving swiftly over the paper, words spilling from her heart, desperate to leave behind something—anything—of herself, a piece of comfort for her children to hold on to when she was gone.

Austin could picture her, alone in the dark, the tears falling freely now as she wrote down her fears, her love, and the uncertainty of what the future held. What if she was afraid she wasn’t enough? The thought gnawed at him. What if she couldn’t protect us like she always promised?

He could feel the ache of it, the overwhelming emotion that came with losing her. But there was something else too—a deep, unspoken connection. She had been afraid, but she had also been hopeful. Hopeful for the future, for him and Ashley. For the life she had fought so hard to give them.

He exhaled sharply, taking a moment to steady himself before he began reading. The words on the pages blurred slightly as his vision wavered with unshed tears. But he forced himself to focus, knowing this was something he needed to do. For himself. For his mother. For their family.

The first entry was short, dated months before her death. In her delicate handwriting, she had written:

I don’t know how to say this, but I’m scared. I’m scared that I won’t be there for Austin and Ashley, that I won’t be able to hold them the way they need me. I want to promise them that I’ll fight, that I’ll stay strong for them. But the truth is, I don’t know if I can. And that thought—leaving them behind—keeps me up at night.

Austin felt his chest tighten, the weight of her words sinking deep into his heart. He could almost hear her voice in his head, the familiar warmth that had always comforted him now tinged with the fear and uncertainty that she had tried so hard to hide.

He turned the page, reading more. There were more entries, more moments where she had written about her fears, her desire to be there for them, and her fear that she wouldn’t make it. She wasn’t just a mother, Austin realized. She was a person who, even in her final days, had been scared, had felt helpless.

But she had also been brave. Brave enough to write these words, to leave behind a piece of herself for her children.

As the night wore on, Austin kept reading, and with each page, he felt closer to his mother. The pain of losing her was still sharp, but this—this was a way to hold onto her, to understand the depths of her love, even in her moments of fear.

When he finished reading, he gently closed the journal, his mind heavy with everything he had just read. The tears he had held back finally began to fall, but they were no longer filled with the same sharp ache of grief. Instead, they were tears of connection, of understanding.

He stood up, holding the journal close to his chest. Then, with one last glance at the pages, he turned off the lamp and walked back upstairs, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time.

Back in bed, he settled beside Lucy, his heart still racing from the emotional whirlwind of the night. He gently wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

"I love you, Mom," he whispered, closing his eyes, and allowing the weight of the day to drift away.