Then There Was You

The Wanderer

He had thought the air would've felt denser, stickier as it pelted against his face or that the beating sun would've been more intense on the slick of his leather jacket, but it didn't. The air, instead, felt lighter, more freeing and the lingering sun as it had started to set across the tops of the trees in the distance, just felt softer like a renaissance oil painting come to life. The charging wind blew through his dark brown hair, wispy ends waving as he sped down the nearly deserted highway. His knuckles crinkled-tightening around the handlebars of his cherry red 1955 Harley Davidson Panhead-as he revved the engine to pick up speed and his eyes squinted slightly underneath the black of his shades from the blinding orange glare of the horizon. He was headed south, away from the only place he knew; the bustling, cramped New York City block he grew up in. Not running from anything and not towards anyone, just looking for something different, a change. He didn't have a plan as to where he was going, or where he would end up, but he knew he would figure it out eventually.

And he wasn't going to stop until he did.

It was late spring of 1958; Eisenhower was still president, the government had launched its first satellite into outer space and Elvis Presley had been inducted into the Army. The world seemed to be moving faster than anyone could have imagined, but still not quite fast enough. Hatred and injustice remained, the world as cruel and bigoted as it ever had been. But underneath it all, there was still that need for more, that longing for a better life for everyone; the American Dream. His American dream.

He wasn't so sure what it was that drew him to stop in the picturesque town of Bluemont, Georgia that following day; could've been the welcome sign right at the edge of town: "Heaven Awaits You Here", or the fact that his motorcycle had begun to make a rattling sound that was a tad alarming. Nevertheless, he rode straight into that quaint town, fearless but unsure, and pulled right into the parking lot of the small neighborhood diner.

Slipping off his sunglasses, the young man-dressed in cuffed jeans, black Chuck Taylors and a slightly dirty white t-shirt under his worn-in leather jacket-peered up at the partially lit neon sign; Betty's Diner. It was simple enough, a tiny place with bright aluminum siding and big glass windows all around and it seemed to have a decent amount of patrons inside. Food can't be that bad, he thought to himself with a slight chuckle. He clicked off the engine and hopped off his bike, ruffling his fingers through his dark wind-blown hair as he made his way up to the door.

With his stare glued down at the white toed-tips of his high top sneakers, he swung open the squeaky door and crashed right into the front of someone that was just walking out. "Sorry, pardon me-"

"Hey! Watch where you're fuckin' going, man!"

The voice was heavy, boorish in tone and it made the young man look up from the floor. It was in that moment that her breathtaking green eyes caught his, her small shapely frame stepping out from behind the boy with the stoutish voice. Her soft coral lips parted as she stared at him, the intense blue of his eyes something she had never witnessed before in her life. She would have been lying if she said her heart hadn't skipped a beat.

He cleared his throat, bowing his head gently as he was in no way looking for a fight. "I apologize," he mumbled, attempting to end the scuffle and walk past. It was a deliberate hand to his chest that stopped his feet from taking another step.

"And what do we got here?" the brutish fella spoke up, his voice riddled with a country twang. His buddies all started to gather round, causing the young man to swallow hard the closer they stepped up to him. "A fuckin' Mick, eh? Ya'll we got a fuckin' Mick in these parts!"

Loud unisonous laughs bellowed from the small rowdy group and the Irishman flicked his eyes around before reaching up and pushing the unwanted hand away from the front of his chest. "I don't want no trouble," he insisted, peering over at the one giving him the most bother.