Mirage(21)

“Nothing is more beautiful than you standing here. I thought you were dead,” he barely chokes out. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” I say. Because what else is there to say? It isn’t fair to blame him for my choices. I square my shoulders. “You know I can’t see you anymore.” I expected it to hurt the first time I saw him, I expected it to hurt to say those words, but I’m shocked that I don’t hurt. I’m ice?cold. Numb.

Dom steps back like I’ve hit him.

“My father?—”

He waves his hand. “It’ll blow over with your father. I just came from speaking with him. He’s still pissed as hell, but damn, he knows as well as anyone that you are your own woman. I’ve apologized for putting you in the situation in the first place. He knows you make your own choices, babe. Even when it comes to seeing me.”

I pull away from his warm arms. “I can’t deal with you?—?us?—?right now. I have an emergency. I can’t find my grandmother. She’s vanished. I have to go look for her.”

“I’ll help you.”

I sigh. It’s exactly the right answer but also the one that will get me into trouble. However, I’m more scared for her than I am for myself. “Okay. Thanks. Let’s go find her.”

We speed away on his motorcycle because that’s all he’s got and my car keys have been confiscated. The road leading to my house is paved, but that’s being kind. I wonder if they just poured concrete over the jutted dirt and called it good. The desert stretches out around us for miles. If she wandered off into the waving heat . . . I swallow hard and push the thought away. My teeth rattle over the bumps, each one making me grip Dom’s waist tighter. I want to close my eyes and lean into his back, but I’ve got to keep watch. “A bit more,” I yell to him. “Then we should turn around and check the other way.”

As I’m about to tell him to do that, I see the flash of police lights ahead. My stomach churns like I’ve swallowed squirming parasites that live off stress. Dom must notice too; the motorcycle speeds up. I breathe a little easier as we approach, because my grandmother is standing next to the patrol car, speaking animatedly with one of the officers. Thank God she’s okay.

Dom holds out his hand to help me off the bike. “What’s that on your grandma’s chest?” he asks as I swing my legs over the seat.

It’s not clearly visible from where we’re standing, and the cop keeps blocking my view, but it looks like a large white paper hangs over her ample bosom. I run over to the other officer, whose face is pink with a sheen of sweat. “That’s my grandmother. Is she okay?”

The cop nods and swipes his brow with his forearm. “Thankfully, yes. But she shouldn’t be wandering around out here alone. This is the desert.”

“I know.” Oh God. I’m so busted. “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

“Oh, I do,” the cop says in an amused voice. “We found her hitchhiking.” He points to the sloppily written sign on Gran’s chest, which I can now read: IHOP or Bust.

Gran’s hands wave around as her prickly tone carries across the sand. “Unless you boys are going to take me out for pancakes with raspberry sauce, I’m not going anywhere.” You can tell this stalemate has been going on for some time, because the officer hangs his head in defeat. I’m guessing they don’t make a habit out of forcing little old blind ladies jonesing for pancakes into the back of their patrol car.

I go in for the rescue. “Gran,” I say soothingly with my arm around her shoulder, “let me get you home. We can make pancakes there.” All eyes rove to Dom and his souped-up motorcycle.

“You don’t have a car,” Officer Obvious states.

“I’ll take her on the bike.” When multiple eyebrows rise, I realize how absurd it sounds. I put my hands on my hips. “What? I can ride it. I’ve done it before.”

Dom laughs nervously. “What she means to say, officers, is that she’s ridden with me lots of times. Since she doesn’t actually possess a license for a bike”?—?he shoots me a look?—?“clearly she cannot drive her grandmother home. I think we should call your parents, Ry. Or maybe these fine officers won’t mind giving you two ladies a lift?”

“I would like that young man to take me home on his motorbike!” Gran exclaims. When one of the officers starts to object, she holds up her hand. “Do not get on my nerves. I am a grown woman and I know my rights. I’ve been denied things because I am black. I’ve been denied things because I am a woman. And I’ve been denied things because I am blind. Damn it, I’ve been denied pancakes! By golly, you won’t deny me this.” She shoves past the officer toward the general location of Dom’s voice. “I can sit on the back for one little mile, yes I can.”

Both officers shrug their shoulders, probably glad for the oddball situation to be over. But one guy gives me a stern look as he flips his notepad closed. “Keep a better eye on her from now on. Would you like a ride back to the house?” he offers.

“No, thanks. I’ll walk.”

Dom looks at me helplessly as one of the policemen gives Gran a hand getting on the bike. “I see who Ryan takes after,” Dom says to her. She wears a huge smile and claps like a little girl when he starts the bike up. Her plump cheek presses to his back, and she wraps her arms tightly around his middle. I watch the clouds of desert sand kick up as they putter slowly down the road, the wake of her laughter trailing behind. I walk through their cannon smoke of dust.