Where the sun rises

Harper forced herself to smile. Just one for the camera, she thought. Just one to send to mom. But as she angled the phone closer, her smile faltered. What was the point? To pretend that she was fine? That today wasn’t the worst day of every year ever since—

That dad wasn’t gone?

Tears welled in Harper’s eyes. She still took the photo, puffy eyes and windswept hair be damned. Drama queen, mom would say. Harper sent it to her anyway and stuffed the phone back into her pocket.

With a heavy sigh, she turned her gaze towards the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The first rays of dawn had just crept over the rugged peaks of the Santa Lucia Range, and the waves glistened like diamonds scattered across a dancing canvas. The Big Sur had always been dad’s favorite place. She wondered if he’d still feel the same way about it now.

The roar of an approaching motorcycle jolted Harper from her thoughts. Her body tensed as the rumble of the engine drew closer, as she was torn between the horror of the past and present. She hated how much of an effect these machines still had on her, even after years of therapy.

Harper leaned against the railing behind her, her grip tightening as the motorcycle emerged around the corner. Its polished frame gleamed in the sun, a stark contrast to its rider clad entirely in black. Her gaze swiftly shifted in the opposite direction, making sure she was clear to cross once the motorcycle had passed.

Something at the rear of her parked car caught her attention. A slender silhouette—a deer cautiously peering out from behind her trunk. Dread coursed through her as the howl of the motorcycle’s engine startled the small creature. In a split second, the animal sprang into the road with a heart-stopping leap.

“Watch out!” she yelled.

Time slowed as the scene unfolded before her eyes. The screeching of tires cutting through the air. The reek of burnt rubber. The deer vanishing into the forest on the other side. The driver fighting for control of his bike. The sickening thud of his body hitting the ground. The motorcycle skidding along the pavement. The deafening silence when everything came to a standstill.

Oh my god.

Harper reached for her phone. Dialed 911 as if in trance. The familiar sound of a call connecting never came. She checked the screen. In the top right corner, small white letters spelled No service. She checked the text to her mom again. Message failed to send.

Fuck.

Panic took her. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not today. Harper’s heart raced. Her chest tightened painfully. She tried to remember her first aid training.

Stay calm.

She took a breath.

Assess the situation. Check for safety.

She forced herself to look at the scene again. Both driver and motorcycle lay motionless in the heart of the lane. A wave of urgency washed over Harper as she envisioned unsuspecting traffic running them over. She sprinted across the road. From her car’s trunk, she grabbed the warning triangle, clumsily unfolding it as she ran up the road to place it ahead of the accident.

What now? Check for responsiveness. 

Harper took a tentative step towards the driver. Her heart pounded in her chest. You can do this. Dad could still be alive if someone had helped. This could be someone else’s dad.

Her pulse quickened with resolve as she rushed to the driver. His gear was badly scratched, in some places torn, exposing streetwear but not skin. There was no blood. No missing leg. Carefully, she opened the visor of his helmet.

A pair of clear blue eyes stared back at her. She almost cried. Relief overwhelmed her, lifting the corners of her mouth into a soft smile.

“Oh, thank god. Are you okay?” she asked.

It sounded dumb out loud. The man’s eyebrows creased slightly, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond.

“Yeah,” the man said slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Thank god. Are you hurt somewhere? Can you move?”

The question made him pause. “I…” His eyes closed for a moment. “I can’t feel my right leg.”

Harper’s eyes dropped to his leg. It looked fine, a little stiff maybe, but otherwise fine. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t see what’s wrong with it. I tried calling 911, but—”

“There’s no service.”

“Yeah.” The relief she had felt just a moment ago dissolved. “How much— Does it hurt a lot?”

“A little.”

A little. She had no idea what to do with that information. She had no idea why she’d asked in the first place. “I will drive back to town. Or a camp. Get you help there.”

The man shifted, his face straining from the effort it took.

“Don’t move,” she said, putting a hand on his chest to hold him in place. “You might make it worse.”

“We need to get off the road.”

“I put up a warning triangle.”

Ignoring her statement, he tried to move again.

“Okay, wait,” she said. “I’ll help you. But please stop moving. Please.”

He stilled. “Fine,” he said.

Harper stepped behind his head, gently grabbing him underneath his shoulders. “Tell me if anything hurts.”

The man grunted.

She had no idea how to pull a 170-pound body across the highway, but somehow, she mustered just enough strength to drag him under the shade of a tree. He winced as she released him.

“Shit,” he said, “that hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. It was your idea, dumbass just didn't have a nice ring to it. “I’m going to try 911 again.”

She pulled her phone out. This time, the call connected. Thank god. Thank god. Thank god. She jumped to her feet in anticipation.

“9-1-1. This is Sue. How can I help you?”

“Hi. My name is Harper Wilson. I’d like to report an accident on State Route 1, north of Limekiln State Park. One person is injured. He can’t feel his leg. I keep losing network, so the call might cut off.”

“Okay, Harper. Are you with the injured person right now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay. I’m sending help your way. Stay on the line with me. I’ll need some additional details. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Yes. A deer jumped on the road. The driver lost control. I was parked on the other side of the road when it happened.”

“So you’re not injured at all, Harper?”

“No.”

“Were any passengers in his vehicle?”

“No, he was on a motorcycle.”

“And the man is conscious you said?”

“Yes. But he’s in pain. He can’t feel his leg.”

“Okay. That’s good to know. Is he bleeding? Do you see any injuries that require immediate attention?”

“No.”

“What is his name?”

“Uh…” Harper looked down at the man and whispered, “What’s your name?”

“Colin.”

“His name is Colin.”

“And how old is he?”

This was starting to feel awkward. Harper looked at Colin again with an apologetic smile. “She wants to know how old you are.”

He frowned. “Twenty-eight.”

“He’s twenty-eight, ma’am.”

“Okay, Harper. You said he was driving a motorcycle. Do you see any smoke or fire?”

“No.”

“Can you try to describe the model for me?”

“Uh… it’s…” She threw a glance at the thing. “Silver?”

Below her, Colin scoffed, which turned into a painful cough half-way through. “It’s a Yamaha FJR1300,” he said between gritted teeth.

Harper rolled her eyes at him before relaying the information to the dispatcher.

“Alright, Harper. I think I have all I need. Help is on the way. I want you to remain in a safe location and keep Colin as comfortable as possible. Do not move him further unless necessary. Don’t remove the helmet unless he’s having trouble breathing. If his condition changes at all, please let me know immediately. You are at a remote spot. Emergency medical services will be arriving­–”

The call cut off. “Hello? Hello?” Harper looked at her phone, then at Colin. “I lost the call. But they’re on the way.”

She lowered her phone and met Colin’s gaze. Something about his expression made her chest constrict with guilt. Crouching down beside him, she quietly said, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

Colin huffed a laugh. Or a sigh of pain. It was hard to tell. “What do you mean?” he said.

“I…” She turned away, not sure how to explain without making this about her. There she was whining to a man who couldn’t feel his leg. “Don’t worry about it. Help is on the way.”

“Did they say how long?”

She shook her head.

“Fuck,” he said. Then he said it again, with more anger. 

“You still can’t feel your leg?”

“No.”

His admission came out quietly. As if he feared saying it any louder would somehow make it more real.

Harper reached for his hand, removed the thick glove, and closed her fingers around his. He stiffened at first, his skin warm, a little calloused. He has nice hands. She gave him a reassuring smile and the tension in his hand eased.

“Should I call someone for you?” she asked. “Family? A friend?”

“No,” he said. “My parents would freak.”

“Okay.”

“How’s my bike?” he said.

“Uh… it’s… damaged?”

“How much?”

She looked at the motorcycle again. “The right side is… I don’t know. It looks not great.”

Colin mumbled something under his breath. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Could you make sure my bike’s picked up and stored somewhere until I can take care of it?”

“Sure. Do you have insurance?”

“Yeah. But it doesn’t cover towing. I’ll pay you back whatever it costs.”

“Okay, sure. I can store it in my garage.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it can be fixed. You'll probably still get a decent price—”

“What do you mean price? I’m not selling it.”

“You’re not?”

Colin let out a surprised laugh. “Of course not.”

“But…” Harper’s pulse quickened. “You can’t ride that… that thing again! It almost killed you.”

“No. A freaking deer almost killed me.”

“How’s that different?” Harper itched to pull her hand from his. “You’d still be dead.”

“It’s very different. Besides, you can’t just stop doing everything you enjoy because it might be dangerous.”

“Why not?”

“Are you... are you crying?” Colin asked.

“No...” But she realized that he was right. She quickly wiped over her eyes with the end of her sleeve. “Fine. It's because of my dad… he died on a motorcycle. On this road, actually. Today’s his birthday. Or was, I guess. I come here every year. It was his favorite place to ride.”

Colin’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing her hand.

God. How pathetic. Now he was comforting her.

“What happened to him?” he asked.

“I shouldn’t burden you with this. You’re the one with the broken leg. I should be comforting you.”

“I don’t need comfort. I need a distraction,” he said. “I’m smiling by the way. Not sure if you can tell.”

Harper chuckled. “I can tell. Your eyes are smiling.”

“My eyes?”

“Yeah… and your cheeks lift. They’re kinda big.”

“Oh ya? You should see my other cheeks then.”

Harper snorted. “You must be feeling better when you’re making jokes like that.”

“Who said I’m making jokes?”

Great. Flirting. I don’t think the first aid training covered that.

“Okay,” Harper said, “let’s talk about my dead dad then.”

The crinkles around Colin’s eyes softened. “I’m listening.”

“He… uh… crashed about an hour north from here. On the way home.” She looked at Colin, whose attention encouraged her to go on. “Some idiot attempted to overtake a truck, misjudged the distance.” Harper let out a soft breath. “He practically ran my dad over. He was dead instantly. At least that’s what they told us.”

“So it wasn’t your dad’s fault,” Colin said.

“No. My dad was a great driver. He did it for fun. Not for his ego. He didn’t try to—”

“Prove something?”

“Exactly.”

“And you think other bikers do?”

“Well, don’t they?”

“Some, sure, but most are damn good drivers. We have to be. Think about it. We’re constantly checking how the bike connects with the road, the sounds of the engine, its limits. We can’t afford to be in daze or check our phones or drink coffee. We’re aware of everything, all the time, just so we can avoid making contact with any of those idiots that ran into your dad. We know we carry the greater risk. We have to anticipate everyone’s moves and react in split seconds. The fact that I’m alive should tell you that.”

“But those idiots exist, Colin. Is that worth it? I had to grow up without my dad. Was that worth it? Is it worth your leg? Your life?”

He looked at her with those intense eyes. “I guess so,” he said after a moment. “I’d rather die having lived a life doing what I enjoy than shy away from something I love.”

Harper smiled.

“What?” Colin said.

“Dad always used to say that he loved exactly three things: me, my mom, and his baby. His baby being—”

“I think I get it.”

She laughed. “It was one of those old guy machines.”

“You mean Harleys?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice. Maybe one day when I'm old and rich, I'll have one too.”

“I’d show it to you, but it’s just a pile of scrap. No one’s touched it since the accident. Mom wanted to pay someone to repair it, but…” Harper shrugged. “I guess she never got around to it.”

“I’d love to see it.”

“You did hear the part about it being a pile of scrap, right?”

Colin chuckled. “I—”

The loud rumbling of something fast cut him off. Harper’s head snapped up. “They sent a freaking chopper?”

“Great,” Colin said, staring up at the sky. “Now I’ll be broke too.”

He said something else, but the helicopter’s rotor blades drowned out his voice. It was so loud, Harper had to let go off Colin's hand to cover her ears.

The helicopter landed, and everything moved so fast. She was asked some questions, then pushed to the back. They took off Colin’s helmet and Harper gasped when she caught a glimpse of the blood on his temple. She wanted to take his hand again, but the paramedics were already lifting him into the back of the helicopter.

“Where are you taking him?” Harper asked, rushing after them.

“San Jose.”

“Can I come with him?” She asked it without knowing what would happen to her car. How to get back. It didn't seem to matter right now.

“That’s not possible, ma’am.”

“Okay.”

“Local police will be at the scene soon. It would be good if you waited for them to arrive. They’ll have some questions for you.”

“Of course.”

The paramedic gave a nod, then turned to climb into the helicopter.

“Wait,” she said, “I need to ask him something.” She didn’t wait for permission and jumped up the back of the helicopter to look inside. “Colin! Colin, how can I reach you? What’s your number?”

“Ma’am, please step away from the aircraft right now.”

Colin’s gaze met hers, but he was barely there. Barely conscious. Did they put him under? Or was he getting worse?

His eyes fell shut before he could answer. The paramedic pulled her aside. "Wait, I..."

"Sorry, ma'am."

She watched the helicopter take off in a daze. Somehow, she managed to deal with the cops. With the rude towing company. With the endless questions. With the fact that she was worried sick about a man she'd just met.

That same night, she sent a text to the number she’d discovered in the papers stored in Colin's motorcycle.

Harper: Hey, this is Harper. I hope this is your number. I have your motorcycle. It’s not as bad as we thought. Totally fixable Frank said...

Harper: Frank’s my neighbor btw. he's a mechanic

Harper: I really hope you’re okay

Six agonizing days later, her phone finally pinged.

Colin: Hi! Yes, it’s me. I’m okay. Sort of. Got out of surgery yesterday. Leg hurts like hell but they say I’ll be fine

Colin: Thank you for taking care of my bike! I realize now that that was probably a lot to ask from a stranger

Harper: Don’t worry. I’m happy to do it

Colin: Thank you

Colin: :)

Harper: :)

Harper: Take me for a ride sometime?

Harper’s heart thrashed inside her chest as she watched Colin's three dots pop in and out. One minute passed. Then two. She was ready to make up an excuse when he finally texted back.

Colin: This is Harper, right?? The woman who saved my life?

Harper: Haha very funny

Harper: (you're welcome btw)

Harper: And maybe you inspired me. I thought a lot about what you said. And maybe this could be a way for me to be closer to my dad. Find out why he loved it so much...

Harper: Is that stupid?

Colin: No

Colin: I think it's brave

Colin: I’d be happy to take you, Harper