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"Biker" by Chrissie Hynde (for Butch from
Cassidy)
"Biker they tell me
You're a dangerous lover
Well that might be true
Oh but I'd never ride with another
Maybe they've never had their arms around
Anything so wild and free
You bring the biker out in me
I can't understand it
Why people give you grief
You play the one-armed bandit
Like an outlaw with a belief
To them it's the norm for a man
To conform to a Godless society
You bring the biker out in me
You bring the biker out in me
Because you've no interest
In the struggle to obtain
The status and bogus desires
That drive most people insane
You who have nothing have
Something that only the 1%
Could ever see
You bring out the biker in me
You bring out the biker in me"
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Yearning
She touches her face. Her finger traces the faint white line on her cheek. She reaches for her compact, but stops. She looks in the mirror of the tiny motel bathroom, ponders the scar and thinks of Jessie. It's strange that the overwhelming bitter anger doesn't flare in her breast like it used to when she looks at her face before morning makeup. She has a hard time envisioning Jess with money, a husband, a daughter, and a modestly successful business. Cassidy once thought she would never want Jessie's life, but these days she gets sick with envy thinking about her. She has been sick with something else it seems, that is what got her up this morning so early. She peeks out at Butch sleeping in his briefs in the disarrayed bed. Good old Butch, he'd never desert her, would he?
She walks to the bed, touches his shoulder, and sits down on the too soft mattress. He moans and opens his bleary eyes upon her. "Kinda early aren't you Cass?"
"Yeah'" she sighs. "I couldn't sleep any longer. Too much to think about."
"Like what?" he asks rising onto his elbow.
"Well, you know that with the pay cuts from the gang we couldn't keep our health insurance. No more Depoprovera shots, no prescriptions. And I guess we got careless."
He knows full well what this might mean, but he asks the question anyway, "So what are you telling me?"
"I've lost something else this month too..." she says getting warm in the face.
He peers at her looking both tired and solicitous, "Are you sure?"
"Of course not, I've got to get one of those kits, but I feel nauseous this morning. I hate to admit this Butch, but I'm scared."
He reaches for her hand, such a strong and whip smart gal. "What's the problem? We'll take care of it the way we did before. The gang has connections and any inconvenience can go away."
She looks at him with defiance and a little wistfulness in her violet eyes, "I don't want to do that this time. I never stopped wondering what the last kid could have been. I'm much too curious and excited to turn away again. I hope you can understand."
He rubs his left hand through his hair, "I dunno if I understand, but this'd be my kid too. I've been trusting your decisions so long I'm not gonna stop now."
She touches his hand and smiles wanly, "Thank you Butch," and she gently kisses his
forehead.
"You know the rules Cass," he says. "No team member can have children, I doubt maternity leave would be allowed even if we promised to have the kid adopted."
"I know, I need some sort of plan. But first I have to confirm my suspicions. I'm going to the pharmacy, you want anything Butch?" Cassidy says rummaging in her suitcase for some street clothing.
He grabs his pants off the floor and says, "Um, sure, could you get me a newspaper? I guess it's too late for condoms."
She smirks, "Not funny!" and throws a pillow hard at him.
The trip to the drugstore is uneventful, other than the knowing glance from the teenaged girl at the checkout. She pulls into the motel parking space, sits behind the wheel for a minute listening to the radio, Natalie Merchant sings: "Baby blankets and baby shoes, baby slippers, baby spoons, walls of baby blue. Dream child in my head is a nightmare born in a borrowed bed. Now I know lightning strikes again. It struck me once, then struck me dead. My folly grows inside of me. I eat for two, walk for two, breathe for two now." Some DJ is reading her thoughts. She sighs, steps out of the car, and goes to the room. It seems dim and messy in there after the short errand in the morning light. It also strikes her as depressing, she wants to put down roots after all these years of gypsy life. Butch has gone off to snag a complementary continental breakfast in the lobby. She sets up the test in the bathroom, good thing she had some coffee at the "7-11" next to the pharmacy. As she waits for judgement to fall she leafs her way through the paper.
For some reason she stops at the obits and sees a headline that causes a quick twinge of pain, "Noted Professor of Japanese Language Dies". She looks more closely, "Professor Geoffrey Yamato of Fuchsia National University, a well regarded scholar of Japanese medieval literature with special expertise in the writings of Myiamoto Musashi died suddenly today..." she feels crushingly mortal and reads on.
She finishes the short bio of her dad with the usual line, "Dr. Yamato is survived by his wife of 30 years Joy Yamato and a daughter Cassidy, 28."
"That's all it says," she thinks, "They couldn't say more," it would spoil their septic little piece to say, "Bad seed Cassidy remains at large, but most of the Jennys of this world know her name, and it's only a matter of time..." Yes, only a matter of time until she's rotting in jail or lying dead somewhere before the age of 40. A great mom she's going to be.
She gets an idea, maybe the kid could be raised by its grandmother. Why didn't she think of that before? At least she should finally get in touch with Joy again after all these years. Perhaps the news she carries would smooth over the inevitably bumpy reunion a little. She steps into the bathroom, "Better check this before the air castles get too high." She has mixed feelings staring at the pink "+" on the test blotter. "I guess I do have some news to carry," she sighs inwardly.
Butch enters the room sipping a coffee, "Well?" he says as he notes she's still pensively eyeing the test blotter. "Yeah, I'm on the nest," she sighs not entirely unhappily.
He rolls his eyes, "Got a plan yet?"
"Sort of," she says distantly, "My dad just died, that gives me an excuse to drop in on mom. She might be willing to help out with a grandkid."
"Don't expect my dad to help," Butch notes, "If he hasn't died of liver failure yet, he'd just about kill the kid. Funny you should talk about just 'dropping in' on your mom. We burned her pretty badly when we left. Do you just 'drop in' on folks you hurt and desert for 15 years?"
She looks thoughtful, the eyes turning inward, her blond ponytails hang forward obscuring her downturned face. "Yeah, I know, but she is my mom. She sort of has to talk to me. It'll be tough, no lie, but aren't I a tough gal?"
He puts his arms around her shoulders, "The toughest I know. If you want to go back to Fuchsia City and see your mom, go ahead. Shall I go with you? Seems you left home over me, and I got you into all of this."
"You're the kid's dad Butch, you've got to come. Maybe you can stay in the car as I try to soften mom up a bit."
"Sure, whatever you say Cass," he says gently pushing blond hair away from her face and kissing her softly on the lips.
"If only all our time together could be this sweet," she thinks sorrowfully.