Amelia

Chapter Ten

I hadn't really opened the cage.

When I went out to meet Fin, to tell him about my feelings, I thought I had opened the cage Fin had spoken about before. The one I had put myself in. I felt euphoric, free, and happier than I'd felt in months. But I hadn't actually opened the cage.

Sitting in a quiet restaurant with Fin, waiting for the brick oven pizza he had ordered from the old waiter, I realized that. We had agreed to take the pizza back to his apartment and eat it there. The unspoken agreement: we were doing that so no one would see us dining together.

I wasn't free yet. I was still hiding.

In all fairness, I had at least put the key in the lock. I just hadn't turned it yet.

"If you want to leave your truck here, I can drop you off at it later. We can just take my car then. There isn't a lot of parking space by the apartment building." Fin's words broke my train of thought, and I smiled up at him, nodding.

My smile dropped when I realized Fin's definition of a car was not entirely accurate.

"You drive a motorcycle?"

Fin flashed me a smirk as he strapped the pizza box to a container in the back. "I told you that parking isn't always available. This is how I always manage to get a spot." He threw one leg over the intimidating machine. "Hop on." Although he clearly meant the backseat, his hand gestured in front of his body. I felt my cheeks warm as I interpreted the words in a different way.

I was not hopping on anything.

"I'm...I'm not so sure about this."

In the back of my head, I could hear my mother talking about a neighborhood boy who had gotten "one of those blasted noise bikes." Apparently he hadn't been too good at driving it, because he and a sixteen wheeler had met head on. The boy was in the hospital for months.

"Come on. I promise to go slow." His words were followed by the loud roar of the vehicle coming to life.

"Ah! Um, no. I-I can't...I mean, I'll just take my car. My truck. The t-tr-truck. And I'll meet...meet...m-m-mee-" As my mother's disapproving voice continued in my head, my husband's voice joined her. Only, instead of talking about the dangers of riding motorcycles, he ridiculed me for stuttering. Again.

Good Lord, what is wrong with me?

I clenched my eyes shut tight and tried to force the words out.

"I'll mee-m-m-meet...I'll-" Sigh. This was getting nowhere.

Suddenly, the sound of the engine cut off. I kept my eyes shut until I felt two warm palms caressing my face. After blinking away the haze, my eyes met two concerned blue ones.

"Hey, hey, shh. It's okay. You want to drive your car and follow me back?" I nodded, not trusting my tongue. "Alright. That's fine. If you're uncomfortable, you can follow me. Where are you parked?"

As I followed Fin out of the small square and into the residential area, I felt a sense of disappointment settle in my chest. Not at Fin, or anything else, but at myself. I was ashamed of myself for not getting on that bike. For letting fear clam me up and force me to waste an opportunity to hold Fin close.

I vowed that next time, I would ride on that damned motorcycle.

And I vowed there would be a next time.

...

"This is it. Last one on the left."

There was only one apartment building in Fin's hometown. Mostly, the demographic consisted of older people and families, or new couples looking to start a family. Fin explained that most of those living in the apartments were either single adults or children who had moved out of their parents' house.