Can you keep on secrets?

Part 1

I only knew two things about Gregory Walker:

I knew he was a pretty cool guy and I knew that was not his real name.

But Gregory knows a lot about me.  He knows my name, he knows my full name, he knows my address, he even knows some of my bank accounts and most importantly, he knows I’m gay.

We’ve been working together for a while, and been friends for more than that. It’s been two years now, and four since I’ve known him, or rather, he had known me.

I recollect knowing his address a long time ago, but since Greg changes apartments so much (for “aesthetics”, he says) I forget to ask him every now and then where he’d move and he doesn’t mention it, so after the third change I resigned the knowing of his address.

I also recollect he fools around much, he is the type of guy for one night stands and occasional get togethers, not the stable keeper give-you-children kind of guy you’d find on nice friend reunions.

Greg was a gentleman though. Even with men, he was always polite and kind of charming. He earned his respect even if his demeanour was that of a very volatile child. But he was very mature.

He liked jokes, and games, and foolishness, yes. But he also knew when to shut up, when to man up, when to arm up, when to suit up, when to behave overall.

And that made him special.

Even for me, a friend, that promised no to “fall in love with him” when we met, because, he did not say he was straight but he just said, and I remember clearly:

- I’m no business for a guy like you, even if I were to love you, eventually you’ll hate me. Been there, mate.

So I just did what any other would do and make “the no-gay-friend promise”. And yes, I hated it. Because Greg was more to me than anyone else was.

And he became even more.

So, this is where it gets funny… Greg had a bike.

Yes, Greg had a bike, that’s the interesting fact.

He rode his bike everywhere, but only carried one helmet, really cool red shiny oblique, striker like helmet with really shaded blinders. Since he only carried one helmet and the bike was ninja styled, there was space for one passenger but he never let anyone on it. Even me, even his really good, maybe only friend. He never rode me home, never offered a ride, never showed up in it at my door to take me away on a random trip. None.

However, he would walk me to the train station or to the bus, along side his bike, then once I was seated and going, I would see him speed past or in the opposite direction at an insanely speed on his bike, red shining helmet blurring.

Maybe I was jealous. Because one day the unexpected happened. And he came to work with a girl seated on his bike, with the red helmet on.

Some people started whispering incessantly and made so orthodox stories about it, but it never went further, since Greg was a pretty straightforward guy and had no issues with anybody. People just did not want to get on his bad side, which was actually awful.

So I was there, getting to work, walking from the bus stop, and I saw it before anybody. The girl, getting of the bike with a cute hop, and then taking off the helmet to se a cascading red hair, almost as red as the helmet, and pale completion. She was wearing a loose black dress, and combat boots up to her knees. The getup was so strange but looked so good on her, that it seemed like an everyday thing.

I stopped dead in my track to stare. Stare. At her rather than to him. He was the same as always, dishelved brown curls all over his face, green goofy tired eyes, crooked pointy nose and perfect teeth. He was wearing all black too, black button down and trousers, and also, boots.  He always wore boots.

The girl combed her hair to get rid of the helmet marks on it and left it on top the bike, while Greg turned it off and got the locks on the tires.

She had a strange look about her, like a reserved beauty that knows she belongs, but doesn't. She was sad, by the way her eyes fell on the street and not on Greg when she finished fixing her hair.

He also was kind of down-ish. The same tired look on his eyes was now kind of idle. When he finished putting on locks and was about to pocket his keys, his hand went up for the girls hair to ruffle it. Done that he just gave her his back and went up the building.

I was still staring. The girl put a hand on the red helmet, sighed, and then turned to the street I was on, and walked towards me.

I stared at her some more, her eyes were still down, and I couldn’t quite make her features. She just walked past me and that was it.

After that I did not turn to follow her way, I just mechanically got into the building and up the floor of our office.

No words were mentioned.

At the end of the day, though, I was kind of hectic… My curiosity was my best flaw ever. I was, very curious but not so persistent. So I inquired, but did not push. But now it was something that made me push.

I asked Greg about the girl.

He said she was a friend that needed a favour, after a difficult situation came up.

I agreed and asked about the situation.

He told me some relative of hers died, and he used to know them.

Then I asked if they were distant relatives or had relatives in common beside those.

He said no, stared at me a little and sighed, then said I was too excited about something.

- Do you want to go to the point, or ask whatever is it bothering that blonde shithead of yours? –

- No, but, I do wanna know about the girl… What’s her name?  -

- Do you like her? She’s no good, mate. Will bring the worst out of you. No good there, find another interest, I beg of you. –

- Okay, but why? What’s so bad about her? Is she a man-eater? –

At this, he kind of thought about it for a second and the shrugged and said “I guess so”.

And that was that. He refused to answer anything else until an hour later, when we were finally going home.

- I want a ride home, I at least know you are living near me now. – I said valiantly.

- What gave you the idea I would agree? –

- Well, you can carry someone, that’s proven. And I can invite you over, I surely have some enchiladas or anything you should like for dinner. – And at this I was kind of blushing, it was strange how I’ve never invited Greg over my now but he always knew where I live.

- Nah mate, thanks but I have to decline. – he said kind of wearily.

- Well, okay. Don’t come over but at least drop me off near? – I pushed.

- What’s with you today? Is it Merritt? …Ah shit. – he said rushing a hand through his curls.

- Is that her name? Is a good name… M-

- Don’t say it!! – he rushed, shutting my mouth in the process with his hand. – Don’t…. Don’t say the name… Ahh… Shit. – He looked annoyed for a minute, then looked at my bewildered eyes, intently. – Do you wanna know? You really wanna know and have a ride? – He was still staring, and I felt so exhilaratingly good and humbled that I bopped my head like an eager child.

He moved away, freeing my mouth of his trap, sweet hand with the smell of cologne. No complains there. Then he stared at his sides, still wearily, kind of thieving. Then an annoyed sigh left his mouth.

- How good are you at keeping secrets? –

- …What? –

- Answer me. –

- Well, heck, Greg, if you don’t know by now… -

- Yeah, I know, but I need to hear it from you. Its important. Words have powers. –

- Okay… Well, I can keep secrets. –

- How well? – he pushed.

- Very well. –

- Very well what? Say it man! –

- I can keep secrets very well, I’m a vault. –

He smirked. He moved a little and put his hand on his helmet and said “So it’s said.”

Then he passed the red thing to me.

I did not know what to do. I held it on my hands, not believing I was even touching the thing. I felt it cold, smooth, but also very light. It was surprisingly light-weighted.

Then I heard his bike run, and I rushed to put the helmet on, and approach him.

- Okay, so this is how it works pal… One ride home, you invite me whatever crazy shit is on that fridge of yours and nothing that happens tonight is said to anyone, anymore, ever… Do you understand? –

- Not even with you? – I asked shyly.

- Well, I’m the secret bearer, Am I not? You can talk it with me, but not anyone else, ‘kay? -

- Roger that – I said, unconvinced why it was so important to not talk about riding a bike, but thought maybe it was some kind of sharks behind the bike or something shady.

After the first minute riding the bike I decided it wasn’t shark-loaners after all, and maybe the greatness of having something for your own.

Maybe the complicity of just being the owner of your life.

But I never imagined it was because of magical reasons…