by Sarah Dessen
They all focused on the screen again, not seeming to notice me as I came closer, picking up the previous day’s receipts. I glanced at the screen: there was a bike going up a ramp, then down the other side.
‘He looks good,’ Maggie said.
‘He looks great,’ Adam told her. ‘I mean, it was his first competition in over a year and he placed second.’
‘Look at that,’ Maggie murmured.
‘No kidding. It’s serious vertical.’ Adam shook his head. ‘I can’t believe Eli just got on the bike after all that time and did that well. It’s crazy.’
I looked at the screen again. The figure on the bike was small, but now I noticed the longer hair sticking out beneath the helmet.
‘Well,’ Maggie said, ‘maybe he didn’t.’
‘Meaning what?’
She didn’t answer at first. Then she said, ‘Just because we didn’t see him riding didn’t mean he wasn’t.’
‘Yeah, but,’ Adam said, ‘to be that good, still, he’d have to have been practicing a lot. Someone would have seen something. Unless he was, like…’
‘… doing it in the middle of the night or something,’ Leah finished for him.
I glanced up. Both she and Maggie were looking at me, straight on. Adam, seeing this, looked at me, then back at them. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘What am I missing?’
‘Did you know about this?’ Leah asked. ‘About Eli competing again?’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
‘You sure about that?’ Maggie said. ‘You two seem to have a lot of secrets.’
‘Yeah,’ I told her. ‘I’m positive.’
They were all still watching me as I picked up my receipts, then went back into the office, shutting the door behind me. I listened as they watched the video again and again, commenting on how impressive Eli looked, how much he had surprised everyone. Especially me. It made me realize how lucky I’d been to get the tiniest glimpse into what was in his head, like pushing a door open just enough for a sliver of light to fall through. At the same time, though, it made it clear how much still remained unexplored, unseen.
Aside from glimpsing the video, I didn’t want to see Eli. In fact, I was so embarrassed about how I’d acted and what I’d said that I took great pains to avoid the bike shop whenever possible. I came and went from Clementine’s by the back door most of the time, claiming that way got me home faster. I wasn’t sure whether Maggie and everyone else believed me, and didn’t really care either. In a couple of weeks, I’d pack up for home, and then from there, Defriese. This part of my life, strange and transitory, was almost over. Thank God.
Later that night, when I took a study break, Heidi had pulled the rocking chair to the sliding glass doors, and had Isby swaddled and asleep in her arms, her phone at her ear.
‘I don’t know,’ she was saying. ‘Whenever we talk, he just sounds so defeated. Like he’s convinced this won’t work no matter what we do. I know, but…’
She was quiet for a moment, and all I could hear was the rocking chair creaking, back and forth, back and forth.
‘I’m scared it’s too late,’ she said finally. ‘Like he’s right, and this is unfixable. I know, I know, you say it’s never too late. But I’m not so sure.’
My phone, which was in my back pocket, suddenly beeped. I pulled it out, checking the screen.
You free for coffee? I’m buying.
I read these words once, twice, three times. Never too late, I thought. Then there was another beep.
Name the place, I’m new here! J.
‘Who’s texting you so late?’ Heidi called out as she came back inside, carrying Isby, her phone in her free hand.
‘Just my ex prom date,’ I told her. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘Really,’ she said. ‘What… oh, my God!’
I jumped, startled, then looked behind me, expecting to see something crashing down or on fire. ‘What?’ I said. ‘What is it?’
‘Prom!’ Heidi shook her head. ‘I can’t believe we didn’t think of it earlier! For the Beach Bash theme. Prom Night. It’s perfect!’ She flipped open her phone, punching in a few numbers. A second later, I heard someone pick up. ‘Prom,’ she announced to them. There was a pause, then, ‘For the theme!
Isn’t it perfect? Well, think about it. People can dress up, and we can do a king and queen, and play cheesy music, and…’
She kept talking, but I headed back upstairs to my room, where my books and notes were waiting. Once I settled onto the bed, though, I found I couldn’t concentrate, so I sat back, breathing in some sea air. Then I saw my laptop on my bedside table. Before I could stop myself, I was booting it up and hitting LiveVid, the video site.
HOPPER BIKES EXHIBITION, I typed in. RANDALLTON. Ten videos popped up. After scrolling through them, I found one tagged STOCK and RAMP, and clicked on it.
It was the same one they’d been watching at Clementine’s: I recognized the helmet and the background. I remembered what I’d seen at the jump park, and even to my untrained eye what Eli was doing was different. There was a grace to it, an effortlessness, that made it clear how hard it really had to be. As he moved across the screen, each time going higher, higher in the air, I felt my heart jump. It was so risky and so scary, and yet at the same time, so beautiful. Maybe the truth was, it shouldn’t be easy to be amazing. Then everything would be. It’s the things you fight for and struggle with before earning that have the greatest worth. When something’s difficult to come by, you’ll do that much more to make sure it’s even harder – if not impossible – to lose.
The next morning, after about a week of awkward phone calls, I finally went to visit my dad at the Condor. I found him in his room with the shades drawn, sporting a desert island–style beard. After opening the door for me, he flopped onto the unmade bed, stretching his arms over his head and closing his eyes.
‘So,’ he said, after emitting a long, loud sigh, ‘tell me. How is my life without me?’
Simultaneously, I resisted the urge to answer this question and to roll my eyes. Instead, I said, ‘Haven’t you and Heidi talked?’
‘Talk.’ He scoffed, flipping a wrist. ‘Oh, we talk. But nothing ever really gets said. The bottom line is, we don’t see eye to eye. I worry we never will.’
The truth was, I didn’t really want to know all the sticky details of their problems. It was enough to know they had them, and that they were Big and Unresolved. But since I was the only one there, I felt I had no choice but to wade in deeper. ‘Is this… is it about the baby?’
He sat up slightly and looked at me. ‘Oh, Auden. Is that what she’s saying?’
‘She isn’t saying anything,’ I told him, pulling open the heavy shades. ‘I’m just asking because I want you guys to work it out, that’s all.’
He watched me, studious, as I walked around his room, picking up coffee cups and fast-food bags. ‘Your concern is intriguing,’ he said finally. ‘Considering I thought you didn’t like Heidi.’
‘What?’ I threw a couple of sticky, ketchup-covered napkins in the overflowing trash can. ‘Of course I do.’
‘So you don’t think she’s some vapid, soulless Barbie doll?’
‘No,’ I said, pushing aside the thought that, okay, this might have once been true. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because that’s what your mother said,’ he replied, his voice heavy. ‘And you two tend to think alike.’
I was in the bathroom as he said this, washing my hands, and hearing it I looked up, then away from my own eyes in the mirror. Maybe this had once been true, as well. ‘Not about everything,’ I said.
‘Oh, but that is what is great about your mother,’ he mused as I looked around for a clean towel to wipe my hands on. ‘You always know what she’s thinking. There’s none of this guessing around, speculating, having to read all the hidden signs and codes. When she was unhappy, I knew it. But Heidi…’
I stepped back into the room, sitting down on the other bed. ‘Heidi what?’
/> He sighed again. ‘She hides everything. Keeps it deep down, and you think everything’s fine, but then one day, out of nowhere, it suddenly explodes in your face. She’s not fine, she’s unhappy. You haven’t been doing enough after all. Oh, and you’re the worst father ever, also.’
I waited a beat or two before asking, ‘Did she actually say that, though?’
‘Of course not!’ he snapped. ‘But in marriage, all is subtext, Auden. The fact of the matter is that in her mind, I have failed her and Thisbe. From day one, apparently.’
‘So you try again,’ I said. ‘And do better.’
He gave me a sad look. ‘It’s not that easy, honey.’
‘What’s the alternative, though? Just staying here, alone?’
‘Well, I don’t know.’ He got off the bed, walking over to the window and sliding his hands in his pockets. ‘I certainly don’t want to make things any worse than I already have. It’s possible they’d be better off without me. Even probable.’
I felt my stomach twist, unexpectedly. ‘I doubt that,’ I said. ‘Heidi loves you.’
‘And I her,’ he said. ‘But sometimes, love isn’t enough.’ The weird thing was that what bothered me most about him saying this was that it was such a lame, throwaway line. He was a great writer: I knew he could do better.
‘I’ve got to go to work,’ I said, picking up my bag from the bed beside me. ‘I just… I wanted to see how you were.’
He walked over to me, pulling me close for a hug. I could feel that beard, itchy and out of place, rubbing my forehead as he murmured, ‘I’m okay. I’ll be okay.’
Outside, I walked to the elevator and hit the button, which did not light up. I hit it again. Nothing. Then I stepped closer, and bashed it with my fist.
I realized – as it finally lit up, and fast – that I was furious. No: heart-pounding, can’t-even-think-straight pissed off. When I got inside the elevator, the doors closed, mirroring my reflection back at me. This time, I looked at myself full-on.
It was the strangest thing, to be suddenly infuriated, like something he’d said, or done, had uncapped a valve within me, long sealed, and suddenly something was shooting out, gushing like a geyser. As I crossed the lobby to the boardwalk, all I could think was that regardless of the performance I’d just witnessed, it didn’t make you noble to step away from something that wasn’t working, even if you thought you were the reason for the malfunction. Especially then. It just made you a quitter. Because if you were the problem, chances were you could also be the solution. The only way to find out was to take another shot.
I was almost to Clementine’s before I realized how fast I was walking, passing people on both sides. When I finally pushed the door open, I was breathing so heavily and so flushed that Maggie jumped, startled, when she saw me.
‘Auden?’ she said. ‘What’s –’
‘I need a favor,’ I told her.
She blinked at me. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
When I told her, I expected her to be confused. Or maybe laugh at me. But she did neither. She just considered it for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I can do that.’
Chapter
FIFTEEN
It was, to say the least, embarrassing.
‘Now, see,’ Maggie said as I got up off the ground, ‘that’s what we don’t want to happen.’
‘Got it.’ I looked down, noting my newly scraped knee, which now matched my other one. ‘I just… it feels so weird.’
‘I bet.’ She sighed. ‘I mean, there’s a reason you’re supposed to learn this when you’re little.’
‘Less self-conscious?’
‘Less distance to fall.’
She reached down, picking up the bike and putting it back into a standing position. Once more, I climbed on, resting my feet flat on the ground. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Try again.’
We were at the clearing by the jump park, bright and early the following morning, and one thing was now clear: I did not know how to ride a bike.
If I had, it would have come back to me, along with the confidence that I did know what to do once I was up on the pedals and rolling forward. Instead, each time I got moving – even at a snail’s pace – I panicked, wobbled, and fell. I’d managed to go about forty yards once, but only because Maggie was holding on to the back of the seat. As soon as she let go, I veered off into some bushes and wiped out once more.
Of course I wanted to quit. I had since the first wreck, which had been over an hour earlier. It was completely humiliating to have to keep picking myself up off the ground and wiping sand and gravel off my knees, not to mention facing Maggie’s cheerful, go-team expression, which was usually paired with a thumbs-up, even after I’d gone down hard. This was just such a simple thing. Little kids did it every day. And yet, I kept failing. And falling.
‘You know,’ she said, after the next crash, which involved full-body contact with a garbage can, yuck, ‘I’m thinking I’m approaching this the wrong way.’
‘It’s not you,’ I told her, picking up the bike again. ‘It’s me. I’m terrible at this.’
‘No, you’re not.’ She smiled at me, which made me feel even more pathetic. ‘Look, riding a bike involves a great deal of faith. I mean, you’re not supposed to be able to be aloft on two skinny rubber tires. It goes against all logic.’
‘Okay,’ I said, picking some gravel off my elbow, ‘now you’re really being condescending.’
‘I’m not.’ She held the bike as I climbed back on and flexed my hands over the bars. ‘But I do think that maybe we could use some reinforcements.’
I looked at her. ‘Oh, no. No way.’
‘Auden. It’s all right.’ She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, flipping it open.
‘Please don’t,’ I said. ‘Leah will laugh me out of town. And Esther… she’ll just feel sorry for me, which would be even worse.’
‘Agreed,’ she replied, punching some keys. ‘But I’m calling the one person you literally cannot make an ass of yourself in front of. It’s guaranteed.’
‘Maggie.’
‘Seriously.’ She hit another button. ‘Trust me.’
At the time, I had no idea who she was talking about. But ten minutes later, when I heard a car door slam in the parking lot behind us and turned my head, it made total sense.
‘This is a 911?’ Adam said as he walked up. ‘You know you only text that when someone is dead or dying. You scared the crap out of me!’
‘Sorry,’ Maggie told him. ‘But I needed you here fast.’
He sighed, then pulled a hand through his curly hair, which, I now noticed, was sticking up on one side. Also, there were sheet crease marks on his face. ‘Fine. So what’s the emergency?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘Auden can’t ride a bike.’
Adam looked at me, and I felt myself flush. ‘Wow,’ he said solemnly. ‘That is serious.’
‘See?’ Maggie said to me. ‘I told you he was the right person to call!’
Adam came closer, checking out both the bike and me on it. ‘All right,’ he said after a moment. ‘So what method of instruction have you been using here?’
Maggie blinked. ‘Method of…’
‘Did you start with the buddy system, and then move on to assisted riding? Or do assisted riding first, with the intention of a slow, incremental build toward independent movement?’
Maggie and I exchanged a look. Then she said, ‘I just kind of put her on and let her go.’
‘Oh, man. That’s the fastest way to make a person hate the bike.’ He gestured for me to get off and roll it toward him, which I did. Then he climbed on. ‘Okay, Auden. Get on the handlebars.’
‘What?’
‘The handlebars. Climb on.’ When I just stood there, clearly doubtful, he said, ‘Look. If you want to learn to ride a bike, you have to want to learn to ride a bike. And the only way to do that is to see how fun it is, once you know what you’re doing. Hop on.’
I shot a look
at Maggie. When she nodded encouragingly, I eased myself up on the handlebars, trying to be graceful about it. ‘Okay,’ Adam said. ‘Now hold on tight. When we get going really fast, you can let go, but only for a second, and only when you really feel ready.’
‘I’m not letting go,’ I told him. ‘Ever.’
‘That’s fine, too.’
Then he started pedaling. Slowly at first, and then a bit faster, so that the wind was blowing back my hair and ruffling my shirt. Once we reached the end of the parking lot, he hung a right and kept going.
‘Wait,’ I said, looking back at Maggie, who was watching us, her hand shielding her eyes. ‘What about…’
‘She’s fine,’ Adam said. ‘We won’t be gone long.’
We were on the main road now, moving swiftly along the shoulder, the occasional car passing us on the left. The sun was fully up now, and the air smelled sweet and salty, all at once. ‘Okay,’ Adam yelled as another car passed us, ‘tell me what you’re feeling.’
‘I’m hoping I don’t fall off the handlebars,’ I told him. ‘What else?’
‘I…’ I said as we bumped off the road, onto the boardwalk, ‘I don’t know.’
‘You have to be feeling something.’
I considered this as we started down the boardwalk, which was mostly empty, save for a few early morning walkers and a bunch of seagulls, which scattered as we approached. ‘It’s like flying,’ I said, watching them rise up. ‘Kind of.’
‘Exactly!’ he said, picking up the pace a bit. ‘The speed, the wind… and the best part is, it’s all you doing it. I mean, it’s me, now. But it will be you. And it will feel just like this. Or even better, actually, because it will be you doing it, all on your own.’
We were really going now, the boards clacking beneath us, and I leaned back farther, letting the wind hit my face straight on. To my right, the ocean was so big and sparkling, and, as we whooshed along, it was a steady blue, blurring past. Despite my worry about falling, and my various embarrassments, I felt a strange sense of exhilaration, and I closed my eyes.