The Motorcycle and the Wedding: Part Two.

by | Jan 23, 2024 | Uncategorized | 1 comment

They took a table in the shade. The restaurant was deserted at this time of day

David pulled off the road at a sign for services. He parked in the McDonald’s car park and sat still for a few seconds. She didn’t relinquish her grip on him and the awkwardness was palpable.

Peeling off his helmet, he turned to his passenger, who still wore hers.

“Coffee? Or something cold?” He asked, still in her vice like hold. She relaxed and leaned back. A muffled sound emitted from the helmet. She removed it and seemingly repeated her answer.

“Soda, Sabea please,” she said, pushing a few wayward hairs behind her ear. She wore gold earrings with stones that appeared to be jade. They reflected the burning midday sun.

“Seven Up it is,” David responded, translating her request.

They took a table in the shade. The restaurant was deserted at this time of day and the sparse number of customers sought the refuge of the air-conditioned interior. David returned with two soft drinks, one of which he handed to his companion.

“Wedding then? That was a surprise.” He smiled broadly and winked.

“Yes. I’m so sorry. I was dreading telling you.” She looked down and took a gulp of soda.

“Dreading? Why on earth? This is great news! I’m so happy for you,” he uttered taking a huge suck on his straw. The cold liquid hit his throat and the chill crept up the back of his head in a severe brain freeze. Tears filled his eyes at the dull ache and she misunderstood.

“There, you see! That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Her own waterworks started without the help of freezing liquid.

“Hey! It’s the pop. I drank too much. What did we say? Our love is unconditional. You know what that means.” David pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Our happiness is paramount,” she said flatly, wiping her cheeks with her fingers. Her skin glowed with the coating of dampness, a soft golden brown. Mental pain joined its physical sibling as he realised she would never be his.

“Exactly. Now tell me about this fella. He’s got to be special, and he’s a very lucky guy.” The tears were real this time. “Bloody soda!”

“He’s very handsome and kind. He’s generous and gentle.” Her expression was that of someone deeply in love. The same expression she’d given him the first time she’d said it on the screen of his phone. How many times had she repeated it since? How many times had he answered with the words, “I adore you ‘Nia.”

“So, I have an invitation to the wedding of the year?” David pinched his nose again.

“Will you come? Please.” ‘Nia’s expression was needful, almost desperate.

“Hey! Try and stop me. Miss the chance of an Egyptian wedding?”  He took another gulp. The pain was bearable, compared to its cerebral relation. The equivalent of biting one’s tongue. “When is this momentous occasion?”

“In two weeks, we had the marriage contract two weeks ago. The celebration is a month after.” Her expression became matter-of-fact.

“So you’re already married. Jesus! I’ve kidnapped a married woman!” David closed his eyes and placed a hand across his forehead.

“No! Erm, yes. Well, technically, not yet.” ‘Nia’s face crumpled with anxiety. “This is so bad, I should have…”

David interrupted.

“Yes, you should. Can I be arrested or shot or something?” He layered the other hand over the first and leaned over, resting his head on the table.

“We’re not a Banana Republic,” she replied, mild annoyance giving her exquisite intonation and edge he’d never experienced.

“Well the Little Fella might not see it that way,” David’s reference to the diminutive President of Egypt brought a smile to ‘Nia’s face.

“Shall we go?” She asked.

“You’re the hostage. You decide,” he responded.

“Yes please.” The same face. A compromise. A trade-off.

They left the shelter of the giant branded parasol and rejoined the afternoon heat. Everything on the bike was burning. David wanted the air in his face and a blank mind. They merged into the traffic and carried on north. The White Sea beckoned.

1 Comment

  1. Kenneth Childs

    Is she going to be the bride?


Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Receive an email notification for new posts