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Adonis had been wanting a motorcycle for a while. His uncle was a motorcycle rider until he got into a massive accident. His cousins and aunts on his mother's side always had bikes around, too. Finally he told me that he was going to buy one for himself.
Most women I know, including my mother, have problems accepting the idea that the thrill of riding a motorcycle is worth the risk, but not me. Right up there with loving our family, our dogs, fashion, and him, I was crazy about any kind of vehicle. I excitedly accompanied Adonis to the dealer in Hampton when he bought the bike he'd been longing for-a Kawasaki Ninja.
On the drive back home to Virginia Beach, I drew up beside him on the highway in my BMW M3. "Race you," I called, goading him into it, making him get one of those wild looks in his eyes.
"Alright, bet, baby!" he said.
Within seconds, we were flying side by side down the highway. The bike wouldn't break 100 mph no matter how flat he lay on that gas tank to decrease the wind resistance or how hard he pushed it. I easily pulled in front of Adonis, laughing my head off as I passed him, then gunned the BMW even faster just to prove my point: I'd won a dare--something he thought I was too much of a punk to do.
Adonis and I spent as much of our time together as possible, even when we weren't on the road. Despite having been married a year and having known each other for three, we were still fully aware every day of how lucky we were to be married now, because we could do things like just go to the grocery store. Life couldn't get any better than that.
I especially loved going for rides on that motorcycle with Adonis, especially at night when it wasn't so hot. We'd cruise along the shoreline in Virginia Beach, admiring all of the fancy houses on the waterfront. Sometimes we would pull over and park, then get off the bike to sit on the seawall or walk along the jetties, just as we had when we were seeing each other secretly.
Not long after Adonis got the Ninja, he and I had taken a cooling night ride, my body pressed against his as we leaned around the turns, the breeze in our faces. We were resting on the seawall, admiring the reflection of the lights on the water, when I suddenly declared, "I wanna learn how to drive the bike."
"Uh, how 'bout no?" He said. "Hell no."
"Why not?" I started to argue with him.
Maybe it was because he grew up as the youngest in his family, or maybe it was because he was the most like Abraham. For whatever reason, Adonis was one of the most stubborn people I've ever known. He never liked when someone didn't listen to what he said or didn't do whatever he told them to-not Mercedes, Angelo, or his parents, much less his own wife, whom he knew he had wrapped around his crooked finger and on lock. It was always pretty funny to me, though, how he always hated being told "no," but it was his favorite word to say to everyone else.
