Don't Be The Hero

One

Xx1xX

"Sweetheart, breakfast is ready! I made pancakes!" mom yells from the kitchen. My mom. I still can't get use to saying that.
I got off my squishy bed and made my way to the kitchen. I looked out the window at the forest in our backyard. The leaves are just starting to turn a weird orange color, and the air is more crisp. The beginning of fall.

I pile some pancakes on my plate and drown them in syrup. I shovel them in my mouth in huge forkfuls as my mom starts talking.

"I'm going to be home a bit late. I'm going grocery shopping after work." She mixes her coffee and I take a minute to breath. "I can do it for you mom, just make a list. I'll go on my motorcycle." She shakes her head as she flips another pancake on my plate. "I don't like you on that death trap. I don't know why your father would encourage you riding that thing. We should get you a drivers license and a car. Its a lot safer." I sigh. "Mom, if I ever got in an accident it's not like I'll fall on an animantium spike right through the head. I'll be fine. And if I use the button on the bike then the people who might crash into me won't because I'll be to fast for them to hit me."

"You know how I feel about the button on that thing. Why would your father even buy that for you. What's wrong with a normal bicycle, or a moped." I laugh as I stuff another pancake in my mouth. "Mom, bicycles aren't fast enough and mopeds aren't cool. I'm just going for groceries."

My mom, in the first week she had known me, had disliked my motorcycle from the very beginning. She also hated, my ability to forget to eat a meal, to have training practice in the woods, and my occasional bad habit I have developed, spitting. But she's put up with my constant questioning over the first couple months, and even decorated a room for me. She even made pancakes. She never makes pancakes, at least not often. She also only let's me use my bike in emergencies or to drive up the street. Just to make sure the elderly lady down by the corner is still alive. "I'll even go to the close store. Not the one over the mountain." She gave in. "Fine but no button. And wear a helmet. And no u turns in the middle of the road." I took the list from her and headed out the door. She came out yelling behind me. "Don't drop the milk, check all the dates, and don't stab people who annoy you. And get the cherry yogurt, not the strawberry." She followed me down the steps. "I gave you the short list. I'll get the rest later." She hands me a twenty and helps put my jacket on. "Be safe, don't be the hero, leave that to your father." She planted a kiss on my cheek. I climb on the bike. "But my dad isn't here is he." I smile and drive away. I can see the ghost of a smile as I turn the corner.

If the house was two miles away from the store, life would be so much easier. But it's five. Which is manageable. I stop at the stoplight leading into town and pull out the list. It says.

Nina's list.

Bagels and bread
Yogurt
Apples and carrots
Potatoes
Half gallon of milk.

That's it? normally she makes me get the gallon.
At the bottom of it, it says.

Nina, don't be the hero. And buy a pie for desert tonight. Make it apple.
XOXOX
Mom.

I groan. Its like shes my mother or something. oh yeah, she is my mom... But I do get pie.
The light turns green and I drive up to the store and park. I shove the key in my pocket and walk calmly through the sliding glass door. I grab a cart and make my way through the store, putting in items on my list. I make it to the checkout with no sudden urge to kill someone. That's.... odd. Do all people walk into stores and not want to stab someone? normally there's an employee here that just annoys me to death. I guess he's just taking the day off. Or avoiding me.
The nice lady at the counter smiles, and I force a grin.
"How are ya doing today? paper or plastic?" she asks in a slightly high pitched gentle voice. "Fine. Plastics fine."
I finish paying for the food and carry it out to my bike. I stuff it all in my saddle bags.