Disclaimer: Suffice it is to say that I do not own Twilight, it's characters, the song New For You, or anything else. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in FF now, would I? Story is a product of my imagination, and that's about the only thing I own here.
Prologue
Memories fly into the taillight
Under the truth
Where everything's new for you
-New For You (Reeve Carney)
-Edward Cullen-
Present Day | Summer | Chicago
"Here's your coffee, Gramps."
My grandson hands me a mug of freshly brewed coffee. It was almost a ritual, this thing we do together. After our Sunday family lunch, he stays and spends time with his old man. He brews me coffee, and we'd talk. Sometimes we'd go to the garage, tinker with the cars and go for a drive, the only vice I sustained in my life. This was one of those garage days.
"Thanks, kid." I said as I reached for the mug he hands me. I smile at him, seeing a version of my younger self. "Do you want to work on the Jag today?"
He shrugged and raised an eyebrow, "Will you let me drive?"
This was a joke, of course. I have resigned myself from driving in the last year. My body not always following what my mind wants to do. Aging does that to you. It's probably about time it catches up on me, too. Eighty is a pretty damn late age to start going slow.
"Only if you tell everyone else I did the driving," I countered.
He laughed a little, falling in step with me as we opened the garage. It looked more like a little parking lot, really. Seven cars and three bikes can give that impression. But I did admit it was a vice, didn't I?
Entering the garage, we moved towards the spot where the Jaguars were parked. I owned two, which were both vintage by today's standard. They were a Mark IX and an E-Type S1. "So, which one are you playing with today, son?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "You want the Mark?"
"I'm off chauffeuring duties," he quipped, as he moved towards the E-Type. I laughed at his response, understanding what he meant. Back in the 50's, my father's Mark IX was considered a sports car. Today, it was something people used to transport the bride. I have lent it to my son and nephew when they each got married. It has had that reputation since.
While my grandson did the routine check on the car, I looked around the garage. My eyes fell on the blue Vespa nearly hidden at the back of the garage. It was the most delicate vehicle in this garage. "Like a lady sitting in a room of men," as what my grandson once told me. He had asked me several times why I owned and maintained an old Vespa I never really used. Or allowed anyone to, for that matter. I've always told him it was a long story to be saved for another day.
"Want to tell me the Tale of the Vespa now?" I heard him say, as if on cue. I would look at the Vespa, he would ask me that question, and I would decline. We live by such rituals.
But maybe not today. I think I'm old enough to risk a little, after all. The story to be told being the most dangerous risk of all.
"Yes, I would." I turned to him with a slight smile on my face.
He dropped the tool he had on hand as he heard my response, which was really not the usual script we followed. Then his face turned into a grin. "Really?"
I shrugged, "If I postpone it any later, then you might never hear the story." I started moving towards the passenger door, "it's a long tale, though. So, prepare yourself for a long drive."
Starting the engine, my grandson slowly manoeuvred the vehicle outside of the garage. We sat in comfortable silence while he waited for me to start. Once we hit the main road, I began my story. One that started at the end of a summer, and ended at the start of another.
"The Vespa is owned by a woman named Isabella," I said. "I met her in the summer of 1963. I was twenty-one, and I knew from the moment I met her that I would love her forever."
AN: I'm on the fence on whether I should continue this story or not. I'll leave it open for now and see where it takes us. This did not go through proofreading or a beta. I don't have one yet. Volunteers? I pay really good virtual chocolates. Your reviews are well appreciated. :)