Last week was my 16th birthday, which usually coincided with the last day of school before summer vacation and also my last day in whichever obscure town we happened to be hiding out in that year. By “we”, I mean me and my grandmother, but you shouldn’t confuse her with those sweet little old ladies that bake cookies and read you comforting bedtime stories. Nope, my grams was a six foot, 250 pound outlaw biker with bright auburn hair, spiked boots, and a leather jacket that had Big Red stitched from the back of one shoulder to the other.
“Hi Grams,” I mumbled, as I climbed onto the back of her 1984 Harley Davidson Softail while my classmates both jeered and cowered at the sight of this colossal matriarch parked amidst the soccer moms in minivans at the edge of the Lakelands High schoolyard. I had gotten used to being the outcast, spending my lunch hours alone in the library chewing on the red meat sandwiches and beef jerky that Grams packed for me every day. The other girls were always either on a fad diet or pretending to be vegans to impress their jock boyfriends. I hardly noticed their looks of disdain anymore.
For as long as I could remember, Grams and I had been on our own; she was my only friend. She taught me how to shoot a crossbow with no more than a single arrow to claim my target. According to her mantra, you only had one chance at life, so you had better make it count or else suffer the consequences. Her tough demeanor and resilient spirit were all that I had ever witnessed, and I couldn’t help but be curious sometimes about her past. Did she ever fall in love? Did she ever attend her prom? And then I’d snap out of this delusion and return to sharpening her axe for her mysterious midnight walks into the woods. We were always on the run, never staying in one place too long. I never understood what we were running away from, or where we were going, until that fateful day.
“Alright, Crimson, get your helmet on. You know the drill,” grunted Grams as I took my last glimpse at the red brick building and secretly envied the cheerleaders rehearsing their tumbles for the last football game of the season. For once, it would have been nice to stay and have a sweet 16 party like every other girl in Bobcaygeon, Ontario, but we only had a few hours to clean out our rental cottage and wipe away all traces of our existence before riding into the starry night to our next home (if that’s what you can call our makeshift, temporary camps).
“Where are we headed this time?” I asked reluctantly. I had known for many years that it was pointless to insist if we could stay a bit longer so I could enjoy a normal childhood with normal friends. Grams wasn’t exactly the negotiating type, but she did try within her means to show me the best kept secrets of nature’s beauty when other parents were busy engrossed in their technologies. My favourite memory was staring in awe at the green sky of the Great White North after a spontaneous 20-kilometre hike that Grams led us on to make sure I witnessed this rare phenomenon for my 13th birthday.
“The Great Wolf Lodge, your final destination,” she replied as she hitched on the rusty cargo cart with the last of our belongings to her Harley.
“What do you mean my final destination?” I asked in vain, knowing full well that one did not argue with Grams, especially before she had her dinner. Was she going to abandon me? How would I survive on my own? My head was clouded with anxieties, but I dared not push my luck for fear of being left in the middle of nowhere.
Grams handed me a crinkled piece of paper from her pocket. “I’ve been tracking her scent for 16 years – finally cornered her at a small town just 50 kilometres north of here,” said Grams. The paper was a most wanted sign from the Global Gazette for a red-haired fugitive last seen in 2001 outside of Banff after the disappearance of seven guests at the park’s most popular hotel resort. What did all this have to do with me?
I stuffed the paper carefully in my coat pocket and covered my face with a large woolen scarf, for the next 2 hours would feel like the longest journey of all of my adventures with Grams. I knew my fate would change, and I was torn between wanting to find out a life’s worth of secrets that were kept from me and holding onto the only relationship I had ever known.
We walked into the most luxurious, five-star lodge that I had ever seen with a fireplace that lit up the lobby. My eyes locked with the red-haired woman behind the front counter, and for the first time in a very long time a warmth came over my body. “I was hoping you’d bring her home to me one day, Mum,” she said to Grams, with a grin that revealed a set of sharp, pearly teeth.
Before I knew it, Grams was climbing aboard her bike again. I ran after her to ask her to stay with us. She handed me a small leather jacket and said, “Has your name on it. I was holding onto it until you were ready to join the pack. Make every aim count.” And just like that, she was off into the darkness. “What a big heart you have, Grams,” I said to myself. I put on the jacket and closed the door to the lodge. Little Red, I liked the sound of that.
The End
Image Credit: Naruki Studio
