The Bike
June 4, 2011 § 2 Comments
Her daughter looks just like her.
I nodded because it’s true but mostly because I didn’t want to talk to anyone yet. The tears that built up from the service were still just behind the eyes. I promised myself, when I got up this morning, that I wouldn’t cry in front of everyone, especially the kids. They’ve already lived through so many tears as their mother slowly died of cancer. She would have been strong for them. I’ll be strong for them.
When Tom called a few weeks ago with the news that Anna’s time was nearly up, I packed my suitcase and left. Tom said he needed me. The kids needed me. Anna needed me. Sitting in the plane and then the rental car, the needs, their needs began to weigh heavy on me already. I don’t know what I was going to walk into. I just knew that it would be sadness beyond comprehension.
It was a hard two weeks.
All but a few hours each night were spent at the hospital. Tom and I took turns with the kids while the other spent the night with Anna. I feel guilty for that time with her, taking it away from Tom and the kids. He knew that I needed the time. Anna needed the time, the comfort of an old friend. We relived some of our crazier moments. Danced around all of our pains. Laughed. Cried. Sat in silence. We confessed and forgave. We relieved every moment we shared together. We were young again. We were free again.
Yes, her daughter looks just like her.
This is really the first time any of us have been in the house for any period of time. Several of the neighbors came in to clean it and get is ready for the get together after the funeral. One less thing to worry about for Tom. It still smells of her presence. It looks like she should walk in the door laughing and saying, Gosh, people, why the long faces? We want that but it isn’t going to happen. When will it cease to feel like her home? When will the kids forget her voice, her face?
People are beginning to fill the house. Not ready to help host this gathering, I wander further from the crowds to the kitchen where the neighbors bustle around like bees getting the food finished up. I keep wandering for a bit of solitude, finding it in laundry room.
Solitude.
What I really want is time with my friend. A little time to catch up on the moments that we missed in each other’s life. We didn’t have much of that the last few years. It grew less and less and we grew older and more responsible. With her kids growing up and my career taking off, there was less and less time for each other. The rain is falling again. The drops hitting the window break me out of my emotional tail spin. Unwilling to give up my daydream of a little more time, I turn to stare out the water-stained window.
I laugh at what I see. Up leaning on the tree is an old rusted bike. Looking at the bike, the color is no longer obvious but the moment I see the bike I know exactly what bike it is, resting on the tree. Blue. The blue of the fall sky, the sky that never ends. That was the color of that rusted old bike.
.
Anna, wait up.
Anna’s laughter wafts behind her like her hair on the breeze she creates. Always laughing, that’s Anna. She has our two coke bottles in her back pockets.
Don’t be such a poke, Kid. We don’t have all week to get there, she shouts over her shoulder.
Standing up, she peddles hard, dust flying out from her tire. Its one of those summer afternoons where the sun beats down oppressively. Just this ride has worked up a sweat. We’re headed for the lake. She took off from the station before I was even outside. She gets so jealous when I flirt with the check-out boy. He’s a cutie and he’d flirt back with her too if she stopped long enough to say something to him.
What are we gonna do when we get there? We didn’t bring suits.
Laughing again. God, KId! Who needs suits?
What? No! I can’t. I can’t do that.
What an old biddy. Yes you can. That is the whole point of this summer. It’s time for us to grow up.
What does skinny dipping have to do with growing up? I don’t see any connection.
Laughing. Ah, Kid. I sure do love you but we’re doing this. As she says this, she slides a flask out of her front pocket. Liquid courage, she shouts and winks.
We are at the lake. It looks like glass in the still air. A reflection of the sun. It looks hot, not refreshing at all but Anna doesn’t budge. She pulls her tee-shirt over her head. She’s not even wearing a bra. Unzipping her cut-offs, she’s out of her shorts and underwear in seconds. She takes off to water. A few steps in and she dives with a whoop.
I’m still standing, fully clothed, next to the bikes.
Come on, old biddy! Get in here. The water is so perfect.
Annie, I really don’t think I –
Shut up and get in here!
I look around the shore to see if there is anyone around, anyone watching. Not a soul. This is as good a time as any to strip down but I am still not that brave. Annie, I’m not like you. I’m not brave.
Laughing. True, but you are a complete fool who does everything her best pal tells her to do. Her best pal is telling her to stop being a chicken, strip down, get in the water. And while you’re at it, bring the bottles to the water so they stay cool.
She disappears under the water again. I can’t stay here. I can’t let her have all the fun. As quickly as I can, I start stripping. My clothes leave a marked trail from the bikes to the water and I run in as quickly as possible, screaming the whole way.
Laughing.
This is incredible, I shout as loud as I can.
Anna surfaces right night to me, puts her forehead on mine and says, I told you.
We tire quickly and are still feeling bold so we grab our cokes, flask, and lay in the grass letting the sun dry the droplets of water from our skin. To our boldness! toasts Anna.
To growing up!
We took a swig of coke and then two out of the flask. Whiskey. Yuck, Anna why did you grab this.
Whiskey and coke. They’re supposed to go together.
I think literally. You know, in the same sip, I say as I take the flask and dump a load of it into my bottle. I take a swig and try not to make a face that resembles something like disgust.
Better?
Shut up.
Laughing.
Do you think, Kid, that you will ever leave this place?
Heck yeah. First chance I get. I don’t want to stick around in this hole. You’re coming with me.
I don’t think I’ll ever leave. I don’t know what I’d do if I left. I’d just get lost for a while and come back a failure. I don’t what that to happen. If I’m going to stay here, I want it to be my choice not my default.
I wouldn’t let you fail. I’d kick your butt every chance I got, keep you in line.
Ah, Kid, you’d be too busy weighing choices and going with that. You’d be working to become something great. And I’d just wave from the crowd watching your parade. Nah, I’ll be married. Having kids and I can’t wait for that. It’s all I want, Kid. Nothing grand, I know, but perfect. Just perfect. I have to pee.
We swim more. Drink more. Talk more. Less serious this time though. Laughing.
.
Anna was my courage, my confidence. She would do anything for the sake of doing it. I, on the other hand, had to have ridiculously good reason for everything I did and it was always calculated. We all figured that she would travel the world. Blowing us away with her experiences and her stories. True to her word, she never left town. Not even for college. She got married and had her family. I asked her about that, about why she went that route. She shrugged and said, That is just how it played out, Kid. I don’t regret it. Not one bit.
I believed her. She was happy. Her eyes sparkled with it. She lived it. She kept that bike. That summer was huge for us. We did a lot of growing up. My mom died that summer. She had sex for the first time. Life began changing us instead of us changing life.
We had always agreed that summer was what did it. Seeing that bike out in the yard, we both would say it was the bike that was the catalyst. But neither of us have ever spoken about the bikes. Just the fact that she kept it this long, in a place she can see it every time she looks out her kitchen and laundry windows, says she believes this too.
The bike. I want her back, if for only a moment. Without even grabbing a jacket, I walk out to the bike. The rain is cold and unforgiving as it quickly soaks my clothing through to the skin. I just want to take the bike for a quick spin around the block, just to hang on, to remember for a little bit longer.
I pull forward on the bike so that it is upright. Yanking up, the bike doesn’t budge. Yanking. Yanking. Yanking. Nothing. The grasses have grown around the tires, like chains to the earth, keeping the bike firm in its own grave. Keeping it rooted in the past. Yanking. Still nothing.
Dropping to my knees, I pull at the grass around the tires. Hoping to free it, to revive it some how even though I can see that this bike is no longer meant for ridding. It’s chain is rusted in place. The peddles no longer revolve, creating motion. The rubber of the tires is hard and and there is no air in the tubes, if there are tubes left inside.
I pull at the grasses any way. I pull. Yank. Tug. The grasses don’t give up their keep.
With each tug, the tears drop more. The anguish I feel, the desolation, the loss, I am those things.
I cry.
I sob.
I wail,
kneeling at the wheels of the bike.
The Reflection Pool 
Oh, Kari,this is beautiful! I love your transitions between present and past, and the imagery is wonderful. You say it needs a little something–I think it just needs to be published!!
That is way too sad for me! How about something a little more light and happy. You know happy ending stuff.