Away by Megan Linski

head. There were no answers right now. The only thing left in me was survival. The only thing I had to worry about from now on was making it to the next morning. I haven’t slept, or eaten, since she declared us over. I looked like shit.
    “Hey buddy, you need some help?”
    I turned to see two burly bikers idling next to me on the side of the road, looking concerned. I must look like a mad man.
    “No I’ve just stopped because my wheel was acting funny. I’ve got tools in my bag to fix it.”
    “You sure? We can help.” The one man, large with a gray beard, looked at me kindly. He reminded me of my grandfather.
    “Yeah, it’s fine.” I pause, listening to the one engine. “Has it always sounded like that?” I ask the one rider, a tall, lanky man and pointing to the bike.
    “What? Oh no, just recently. I’ve taken it into the shop and they don’t know what’s wrong with it.” His mouth becomes thin.
    “Mind if I take a look?” The two men glance at each other and I say, “I promise I won’t hurt it. I just want to explain what’s going on.”
    “Alright kid,” the thin guy says. “We’ll give it a shot. It can’t hurt. I’m going to get rid of it anyway unless the damn racket stops.”
    Within forty minutes I have the machine completely fixed. “Go ahead and start it up,” I say. The thin man climbs on it apprehensively, then starts it up. “It sounds brand new!” he shouts over the loud roar, speeding it up and down the bridge. It’s running perfectly.
    “You have a gift. Where’d you learn to fix bikes like that?” Gray beard says, watching his buddy zoom by.
    “My dad’s been teaching me mechanics ever since I could hold a wrench, and I work on a farm. It comes naturally to me. I have a motor for a brain and oil in my blood,” I laugh. Laughing feels abnormal, even wrong, to me, but it still comes out of my throat.
    “You’ve got talent.” The skinny man gets off the bike and takes out his wallet, taking out a few crumpled bills. “Here. You deserve it.”
    “No sir, I can’t take your money for doing something I love,” I refuse.
    “Take it. You’ve earned it. Some of those guys who tried to fix it had years on them, and you just showed them all up. You should think about it for a career one day,” he says, pushing the bills into my hand. “You sure you don’t want help with that wheel?”
    “I think he’s got it, Burt,” Gray beard says, laying a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “We have to go anyway. The girls are expecting us.”
    “Alright.” The skinny man shakes my hand. “Thank you again. You should really think about what I said. Take it easy.”
    “You too.” I watch them speed off, a feeling of contentment spreading through me. As I look down at the money he gave me it hits me. He’s right. I could do this for a living. I had saved up enough that I could go to tech school without loans. I could be out in two years, one if I studied through the summer. Maybe one day I could even open up my own bike shop. Excitement fills me, understanding. I finally know what I want to do, and it had been right in front of me all along.
    Then I feel the bump in my pocket and all my joy fades. How ironic I discovered my passion right when I no longer needed (or wanted...I now realize how badly I wanted it) to tell Rosemary. Does it even matter anymore? I sigh. Whether it does or not, I have to try. That’s what she wanted for me. It’s what I want for myself.
    I fix my wheel, fire it up and head home. Might as well look online to see who offers motorcycle tech degrees. If this was the first step I needed to take for my future, there was no point in waiting any longer to take it.
     
    *
     
    “Rosemary McGowan. What a pretty name,” the nurse says, looking up at me from a smile from her desk. I wish I could be as cheery as her.
    “Thank you,” I say dully. I’m back at the hospital again, filling out papers for another ultrasound. The doctors wanted to keep