It was still raining outside when I got onto my bike and pulled away from the building. Unfortunately, with the rain, it made riding a little bit more difficult than I would've liked. For starters, my face shield on my helmet would fog up from my hot breath, and I'd have to wipe away the condensation before continuing on. Yes, I could have taken off the helmet, for it wasn't like I needed it anyhow.

But, back in California, my friends and I used to race down the streets. The streets of California were much better for riding than those of Seattle, but no matter. Anyhow, one night, a friend of mine that I'd had since kindergarten decided that he wasn't going to wear his helmet for whatever the reason. Probably thought he was "too cool" to have such safety features. The rest of us thought that was all fine and dandy, so we didn't wear ours. As you may have figured out by this time, things didn't go all fine and dandy.

On our usual riding route, construction had taken place. Cool, we thought, more obstacles to jump over. So we jumped right over the signs and guardrails.

When that specific friend of mine jumped over a guardrail, his front tire landed in cooling asphalt that still had the texture of gravel. The tire couldn't get enough grip to complete the jump. His back tire spun out from underneath him, causing the entire bike to go sideways. It skidded up against a brick building before coming to a rest. By this time, his skull was cracked and brain damage was inevitable.

The doctors later said that if he had been wearing his helmet, he might have survived. His parents were forced to pull the plug on his life support and let him die, knowing that his vegetable condition would never change.

So, because of that freak incident, I always wear my helmet. I'm not going to start talking all safety patrol officer here because I'm not. Really, the situation with the bike helmet and I is no different than Mom being gun-shy. That's all there is to it.

Arriving at Logan's penthouse, I sighed with relief upon seeing that Mom's bike wasn't out in front. Had that been so, I would've insanely started to freak.

But, I headed on up anyhow, knowing that Mom might have walked if she thought that that would work.

When I got to Logan's door, I knocked, attempting to be polite while hanging onto the last shred of sanity I had, even though I had already noticed that it was unlocked.

"Who is it?" he called from behind the door as his heavy footsteps padded across the wooden floor.

"Alanza."

The door swung open, and there he stood, clutching the door with his worn fingers. His hair was wet, like he had just got out of the shower, and he wore a pair of flannel pajama pants and long sleeved flannel shirt to match.

Seeing my perplexed look at his clothing, he grinned, embarrassed. "Sorry 'bout this. I-I just got out of the shower."

"I see."

"Here, come on in. You don't need to go waiting out in the doorway," he offered, opening the door all the way as he stepped back. Despite being able to walk, his feet were still foreign objects to him. It was obvious that this was a man who hadn't walked in a long time.

"So, what brings you here?" he asked me, stepping out of the living room and into what was probably his bedroom. "I'm going to get dressed, so please make yourself comfortable."

I sank slowly down onto the couch that I laid on after giving him blood only a day or two before. Wow. Time sure traveled fast.

"Have you seen Mom?" I called back to him.

"Max?"
"Yes."

"No. Why? I thought she was sick."

I immediately felt my face burn, knowing that I was going to have to lie to him-again-about Mom. "She thought she needed some fresh air. Apparently, the fever was causing her to go a little delusional."

"Is she ok?"

"Should be. But I still need to find her," I explained.

"Sorry, Alanza, I haven't seen her."

I rose to my feet and brushed off my pants. "Well, sorry to bother you from your…er… shower. I have to keep moving."

Logan came out of his bedroom, dressed in black slacks and a red button-up shirt. He was still finishing buttoning it when I had reached the door ready to leave. "Alanza?" he called from behind me.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning back around to face him.

"Tell Max I hope she feels better."

I smiled, although I was lying through my teeth the entire time. "I'll make sure to do that."

"Thanks."

Leaving the apartment, I wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad that Mom wasn't at Logan's penthouse. Sure, it was one male that I didn't have to worry about anymore. But, there were still another hundred to go that she could be with. And, I had to keep on praying that one of those males weren't Dad.