She looked down.
The child waited.
The Biker Leader chose carefully.
“Adults get stupid.”
The boy frowned.
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
His mother gave the Leader a grateful look.
The child clearly wanted more.
The Biker Leader added:
“Your dad and I had a fight.”
“Bad one?”
“Yes.”
“Who won?”
The Older Biker coughed.
The Leader looked toward him.
“Don’t.”
The boy smiled.
“You lost?”
The Biker Leader leaned back.
“Depends who tells it.”
The mother asked:
“What happened?”
The Leader looked at her.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
He studied her face.
Then began.
Their father had been difficult.
Not violent.
Not cruel in obvious ways.
Rigid.
A man who believed sons were supposed to follow paths already chosen.
The older son, the future Biker Leader, rebelled first.
Motorcycles.
Mechanic work.
Long hair.
Wrong friends.
Leaving home at nineteen.
The younger brother remained.
He was sixteen when the older brother left.
For years, they stayed close anyway.
Letters.
Phone calls.
Visits.
Then their mother became sick.
Cancer.
Fast.
The younger brother became primary caregiver.
The older brother returned when he could.
Not enough.
Never enough.
Their mother died.
Grief turned everyone mean.
Their father accused the older son of abandoning the family.
The younger brother defended him at first.
Then one night, after too much whiskey and too little sleep, brothers fought.
Words.
Then fists.
The older brother said the sentence that ruined everything.
If you want to spend your whole life becoming him, stay.
The younger brother answered:
At least I stayed for Mom.
That sentence landed exactly where intended.
The older brother left.
He expected apology.
The younger brother expected apology.
Neither called.
Weeks became months.
Their father died two years later.
By then, the younger brother had disappeared.
Address changed.
Phone disconnected.
The older brother asked around.
No answer.
He told himself his brother wanted distance.
Then pride did the rest.
The boy listened.
“That’s dumb.”
The Biker Leader nodded.
“Very.”
“You could have just called.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad could have called.”
“Yes.”
The boy ate another bite of pancake.
“Adults are stupid.”
The Biker Leader nodded.
“Frequently.”
His mother almost smiled.
Then she said:
“He did call.”
The Biker Leader froze.
“When?”
“Years ago.”