Motorcycle Man(184)

I figured this was an unintentional share of intel on the state of Operation Rivers of Blood but I didn’t ask, not her or Tack. I just hoped she was right.

Aunt Bette, on the other hand, hoped I knew what I was doing. This she shared in her last e-mail which was in response to the one where I told her I was moving in with Tack.

Since I suspected Aunt Bette shared, this also got me a phone call from my mother who told me, “We’re coming out soon, your Dad and I, to meet your new young man.”

For a variety of reasons, it was pretty hilarious she referred to Tack as my “young man” but I didn’t tell her this. I just told her flat out what she’d find when she and Dad got to Denver.

“He’s one of those Harley Davidson people?” she asked in a horrified voice.

I visualized her clutching her dress, her mind filled with thoughts of Tack wearing leathers and eating with a huge-ass hunting knife at the same time it was panicking about how she’d break the dire news to my Dad.

Though, one thing Tack had going for him, he worked with his hands.

“He’s that,” I confirmed to my mother and kept going. “He’s also handsome. He’s responsible. He’s devoted. He’s a good Dad. He’s unbelievably smart. And he loves me.” I paused. “A lot.”

“And you?” Mom asked softly.

“He’s everything I ever wanted,” I answered not softly.

“On a Harley Davidson?” Mom asked and I smiled.

“On a Harley,” I replied and it was then my voice got soft. “Give him a chance, Mom. I warn you, he won’t care what you think of him. He is who he is and that’s it. But he loves me, he takes care of me, he’s a good man and I love him. And if you give him a chance and don’t give into preconceived notions, you’ll like him too.”

Mom hesitated then asked, “He has kids?”

I told her all about Rush and Tabby which got me talking more about Tack and when I was done she was silent.

“Mom?” I called.

“You do love him,” she whispered.

One could say my apple fell far from their tree. Even so, they loved me, I loved them and my Mom knew me.

“Yeah,” I whispered back.

“We’ll come with open minds,” she declared.

That would be a first.

I didn’t say that.

I said, “Thanks, Mom.”

Monday night, I’d gone shopping and had dinner with Elvira and Gwen.

Last night in bed, I’d given Tack what I’d bought. A long dogtag chain with two stamped dogtags at the end. One was stamped with an American Flag. The other one was stamped with the words “Ride free”. We’d just happened onto it and it couldn’t be denied it was made for my man. So I bought it.

Some of the brothers wore jewelry, some of them lots including rings, necklaces and bracelets. They were all exclusively silver or leather or studs. But Tack didn’t wear any at all. He didn’t even use one of those wallets with the long chains on them that attached to his belt like the other boys did. So I didn’t know how he’d take this.

I still thought it was made for him.

So I gave it to him while we sat in bed. Tack with his back to the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him under the covers that were pulled up to his hips. Me sitting nervously on the other side of the bed from him.

Tack had the chain dangling over his hand, the tags in his palm, he was looking down at it, his thumb moving it around, face expressionless and he asked, “You had these made for me?”

“No, I just happened onto them and thought of you.”

“Thought of me,” he muttered to his palm.