It was winter and this was a wet one that came with very strong winds. The major highway was cleared of the most recent storm and the temperature moderated. The guys in shorts and hoodies were out again, never failing to amaze Pale. The drive through the woods between her cottage and the graveled road was still littered with small branches that peppered the air with their evergreen blood. The witch knew it was disrespectful to leave them there, and promised to gather them before night. From her door Pale watched as Jacque pulled up her leathers and buckled the silver helmet in place.
"How did I miss this?" Thinking aloud the image of Raven brought him to her.
"You were preoccupied," Raven answered. There was always that part of their relationship that made privacy blur, unless she screened her thoughts specifically, the silver-haired birdman would always meddle.
"Preoccupied was I. Well, that's probably true." So many things interested the octogenarian it was a full time every time life. But now she was looking at the young woman who had cut and styled her cowlicks and that was a measure of intimacy that would count. Jacque was climbing onto the seat of what looked to be a vintage motorbike. A YAMAHA, with a sidecar.
"The motorbike is a 1980 Yamaha XS 850 and Dnepr sidecar," the birdman loved black flying things. He kept track of them and was also very good at Google. "I'm looking at a photo of just such a Yamaha on this Smartphone. Someone has a not-so-secret passion for vintage, and speed." Over the years what Pale once mistook for a verbally conservative Raven had stepped more firmly into verbosity. Along with being naturally nosey the pair had indeed created quite the fiesta of a life.
The sidecar and bike were matte black. The helmet mercurial silver, shiny lettered with her logo. Pale wondered whether the twins rode alongside. Maternal instincts wished the answer was no.
The wooden tool box must have been tucked into the sidecar, and was a great place to carry groceries. The practical checklists ticked off, Pale watched and waved from the front door then ran her hand through her nearly shorn hair pausing to feel the swirls Raven said, "I love the new look. Perhaps you're getting ready to join me now. Flight." The possibility existed.
Potholes slowed Jacque down, there were lots of potholes so she eased through the ones that were too big to drive around. Once out of the woods she stopped and made sure the ferry traffic had run its course before entering the highway. The low winter sun was making a late afternoon showing turning the clouds over the Olympics a tangerine and pink neon. Like some kind of Neo-European handbag the purse like shape opened and closed as the wind played with sky and Jacque's imagination.
Holiday shoppers had landed on Salish. The market parking lot was full, but space enough for a motorbike gave Jacque just enough room to angle safely at the edge. She locked the ignition, pulled the key and helmet off, but carried the helmet into the market. Avocados and toilet paper. "Hey Jacque," her friend Maddy was checking. "Hey yourself." Maddy was her mother's age and the only cashier who liked to function in the slow lane. The store was busy, the tiny aisles bustled with tourists oogling at the amazing choices stocked in a market one-eighth the size of a Whole Foods. Salish was an eclectic and wisely diverse community. Earth, the market was aptly named. Organic, local, funky lay the base for the business. Decades of experience with service helped keep the inventory lively. The avocados, organic were on sale. Jacque squeezed the palm-sized leather shapes and found four to her liking and put them in her helmet. Single rolls of toilet paper, two would fit in the helmet. She put them on top of the fruit. Resisting her temptation to add-on, she thought about the rent. But at the check stand a bag of fired Plantain chips beckoned and she tossed them on top of the single rolls.
"I love those things. Addictive you know!" Maddy was also one of Jacque's clients. "I'm gonna need a little trim. How about next Wednesday, my day off?"
"Morning, or afternoon?"
"Morning's better."
"Elevenish?"
"Perfect. Eight dollars and sixty-nine centavos." With her change in hand, Jacque pocketed the coins and blew her friend a kiss. "She you Wednesday morning."
The sky was already darkening. The colored purse gone, Jacque emptied her helmet into the unzipped sidecar arranged her purchases into a canvas bag and tore open the plantains. She hadn't had lunch, not a good thing for someone with diabetes. Her habits were usually a lot more disciplined, but sometimes she lost herself. "Not often little sister." She knew the voice, and nodded. "Not often." The crunch and the taste of salty fried banana calmed the hunger and raised her blood sugar just enough to level her. A small handful did the trick. Okay? "Okay."
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