Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
Living in Toronto, you can never be sure when winter is over. It’s nearing the end of March, and last week was in the negative and snowing almost everyday. This week, the sun’s out and shining. All the snow has melted, and today it’s ten degrees Celsius. I’m itching to put on my new helmet and take my bike out from hibernation.
The mechanized garage door whirs open and I go to my Ninja, removing the thick black protective cover. The motorcycle wobbles precariously as I struggle to lower the rear tire from its stand—it’s important to keep motorcycles lifted during long stretches of inactivity to prevent tire flat spots.
In the past, Sarah always helped me with lowering my bike, but she’s not here, and I don’t want to ask Noémie for help. We haven’t really been talking lately. It’s more me than Noémie. She’s actively been trying to stir up conversation, but I just can’t be around her right now—not while she parades her relationship with Felix in my face.
The two love birds are both flying out to Honolulu today at 10:00 p.m. Noémie’s bags are packed and in the foyer. She’s even taking Céline on the trip—leaving me completely alone.
Clenching my teeth, I make a second attempt to remove the stands. Thankfully, I’m successful.
Stepping away from the bike, I exhale a breath of relief and wheel it out onto the driveway where I wash the dust from its body, buff the paint until it gleams, check the tire pressure, and clean and lube the chain.
In the time it takes me to complete maintenance, the sky goes from sunny to overcast, threatening rain. Eyeing the clouds, I decide to take the risk. It’s not like I’ll be going far—I’ll just be doing a tour of the neighbourhood. And I really, really want to feel the whip of the wind on my skin and the growl of the machine beneath me. It’s been too long.
I straddle my motorcycle and slide on my shiny new Shoei helmet. All these months later, I’m still not sure how Noémie could afford it. She’s still spending money like she isn’t living on a barista’s salary. Just last week, she randomly bought a PS5 after I mentioned to Wayne that I wanted to play Elden Ring . When the console arrived, along with the game, I questioned where she got the money for it, and it was a whole thing. Noémie called me difficult, and I accused her of always dodging my questions.
Turning the key, the engine hiccups and then grumbles to life. I knock back the kickstand, reverse onto the street and take off.
Even with all the stopping and going, the short ride around the city is enjoyable. If it weren’t for the looming dark clouds, I would consider jumping onto the Queen Elizabeth Way and speeding down to the Niagara Region. I often make the trek out there in the summer. I like to stare at the Falls and conjure tableaus for my graphic novels in my head.
The scent of rain is heavy in the air when I zip into the garage, park beside Noémie’s Tesla, and cut the engine. Pulling off my helmet, I run up the short staircase and open the front door.
To my surprise, shouting greets my ears. Noémie is screaming at someone, and my lips curve into a grin. Maybe this is when she finally breaks up with that tool, Felix. Maybe she won’t go to Hawaii. Maybe things can go back to how they once were between us.
Céline rushes towards me. Before she can bark, I scoop her up into my arms and tiptoe towards the main area. I probably shouldn’t eavesdrop, but I’m human. I’m curious. Sue me.
“Merde, I told you that I never wanted to see you again! Decriss! Leave—maintenant!”
“Nomi, let me explain.” It’s a woman’s voice—not Felix. Great.
“I know I fucked up, but I miss you,” she says. “It was a mistake, and I knew it instantly. I’ll give it back. I’ll give it all back.”
“J’en ai rien à foutre! Leave!”
I stop at the entryway and go unnoticed. I can see both women. Everything about Noémie is red—her face, her neck, her arms. She wears a fiery expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this angry before. I don’t know the second woman by name, but I recognize her face. She’s Noémie’s hot blond friend—the one featured in so many of Noémie’s old Tiktok videos.
Céline is trying to climb up my chest to lick my cheeks. I won’t let her lick my face, so she whines at me. In tandem, Noémie and the blond woman turn their heads in my direction. All the colour drains from Noémie’s face. Her mouth drops open.
The blond woman scowls. “What the fuck is Hot Barista doing here?”
Hot Barista? I frown and put the dog down. Céline begins to chirp.
“She’s my roommate, but that doesn’t matter,” Noémie says, her voice pure ice. “You need to go, Cara. Now!”
Cara doesn’t budge. Instead, her eyes flit from Noémie to me and back to Noémie. “Thought you were trying out men again?—”
“Cara, shut up. I swear … if you don’t get the fuck out of my house!”
“Trying out men again?” I repeat and stare at Noémie. She won’t meet my eyes.
Cara cackles. “Why does Hot Barista seem so confused, like she doesn’t know you’re?—”
“Cara, you need to go.”
“What is she talking about?” I ask.
Cara cocks her head to the side. “Nomi, don’t tell me you followed your dad’s orders and fell back into the closet,” she says before fixing her eyes on me. “I’m going to assume she never mentioned me to you. I’m Caralyn, Noémie’s ex.”
I glare at Noémie. She winces like she’s expecting me to lash out with my words. But I don’t have anything to say. At least, I can’t land on anything to say. There are too many questions. Too many thoughts buzzing in my head. I’m dizzy with confusion.
I end up doing the one thing I’m good at—I run away. Okay, not run. More like, slowly step back and head for the front door.
I push the button on my keys to lift the garage door. I’m back on my bike and fiddling with my helmet when Noémie rushes up to me.
“Jordan, wait … let’s talk,” she says.
I shut the visor on my helmet and turn the key in the ignition.
Noémie reaches for me. I bat her hand away. I don’t want to talk. I need time to think and sort out my feelings.
I roll the motorcycle backwards out of the garage, down the driveway, and onto the street. I look at Noémie, and I can’t put a name to the emotions that claw my heart. This whole time, Noémie lied to me. She let me go on thinking she was straight. She never once corrected me. I thought we were friends.
I twist the throttle and speed away. Before I know it, I’m merging onto the expressway. I shift from gear to gear, darting between the lanes. I’m trying to get lost in the feeling of the wind pushing against me. But I can’t shake the questions that tumble around in my mind. What about our promise to be honest with each other? Why would Noémie purposefully keep this from me?
So preoccupied by my thoughts, I don’t pay attention to the dark clouds above me until there’s a crack of lightning and a boom of thunder. All at once, the sky breaks open and a torrent of rain pelts down on me, obscuring my visibility. I snap my visor up to see better, but I don’t do it fast enough. The car in front of me breaks hard, its lights flashing red.
In an automatic response, I squeeze my front brake and realize too late that I should have applied both my front and rear brakes. My front tire locks up and my rear tire lifts. For a second, the world slows. And then I crash.