Grand Beginnings: The Story of Us Part II

The much-awaited Part II. Which won't make much sense if you haven't read the celebrated (cough cough) Part I. 

Zeke helped me onto the backseat of the motorcycle, laughing at my clumsiness- which I maintained was caused by my lack of coordination but probably also had something to do with  nerves and my lack of coordination. (For the record, I can now get on that backseat with no assistance). Then he got on and lifted the bike off the kickstand. I touched his sides gingerly, and then realized that I could hold on as tight as I wanted and it would be deemed completely appropriate in this situation. Well then.

About five seconds later, I was glad to be holding on tight. That bike was much more powerful than I thought. I squealed and held on tighter as he turned the corner, and tighter still when he turned the next one. He admitted to me later that he liked hearing me squeal and turned hard corners just to tease me.

Then we talked. And talked. And talked a little more. About dreams and high school and family and friends. He was deep, intelligent, caring. He’d always been so quiet, but once he started talking, he had a lot to say. He had important things to say, and I started regretting everything I’d ever thought about him. Except that he was cute and had nice eyes (I'd thought that back in high school, too). He was so much more, so much different, that I ever thought. I felt bad that I’d judged him so harshly in high school. That I’d wasted time not being friends with him.

I also felt bad that I hadn't worn waterproof mascara. All that wind in my eyes made for some pretty smeary eye-makeup... not attractive. (And that's how I learned to always wear eye gear when riding a motorcycle).

We went back to the party. I felt mellow, a little sad. The motorcycle ride had been exciting, an adventure, something that I’d never otherwise do, and I was so glad that I had gone with him. But I was sad that Zeke and I had never been friends. What made me so superficial? Aren’t unpopular kids supposed to be accepting and understanding? And why hadn’t I made friends like him in college?

I was pretty tired, and had to work in the morning, so I made my exit pretty soon after we got back. I thanked Angela, said goodbye to the birthday boy, and then waved at Zeke before leaving. I was glad that I’d gotten the chance to talk to him. Never judge a book by its cover, I thought. I’m glad I got to read a little more of your story.

I got home just as a storm was rolling in. Thunderstorms in rural Iowa are impressive to watch as they gather. All that open space makes it possible to see the lightning from miles away. Lightning has always spoken to me, reminded me of what a powerful God we have. A powerful God who looks past what people see, and into the heart of a person. I got out of my car in the driveway and sat on the trunk, watching the lighting.

I sent up a little prayer. Lord, thank you for the reminder. I could have had such an amazing friend in Zeke, but my own pride got in the way. Let me see as you see, and thanks for showing me how wrong I was. Thanks for letting me actually meet him.

I opened my eyes as I heard a motorcycle rev past my driveway, rumbling with the thunder into the distance. That must be Zeke going home, too, I thought.

But then I heard the rumble get louder again. The rumble of that motorcycle was headed back towards me. Zeke pulled into my driveway.

“Hey,” he said, “what are you doing?”

“Well,” I said, blushing again, “I’m watching the lightning.”

We talked for another two hours, until the storm got closer and it started to rain.

“I better go,” he said. “I’m gonna get wet on the way home.” He motioned towards the bike.

“Oh! Yeah. Well, I’ll see you later, I guess.” I said.

“Yeah. Have a good night,” he replied, swinging his leg over the motorcycle. He was so comfortable with that bike. He was so comfortable with everything. I blushed again and wished that I was a little more like him.

“Bye,” I said. He pulled away, the bike matching the thunder. I stood in the rain until I couldn’t hear the motorcycle anymore. Then I walked inside, feeling like something had just happened, but not knowing exactly what it was.

I now know what happened that night-  it was the beginning of something amazing.

If you wanna hear more of our super romantic stories, you can check out

THE ONE WITH THE SNOT,

or THE ONE WITH THE VOMIT,

or, if you're feeling particularly brave, THE ONE WITH THE TESTICLES.

So actually, this story is the most romantic one we've got. And the one with the fewest bodily fluids.