Along for the Ride Page 31

  Everything’s all right, I thought now, as I bumped over the curb and onto the street. There was no traffic in the neighborhood, and I thought of all those mornings with Maggie, feeling her hand on the back of my seat, her footsteps slapping the pavement as she raced to keep up before giving me one last push – Go! – and I was on my own.

  I just kept riding, shooting under streetlights and past mailboxes, the tires whizzing against the pavement. As I turned out of the neighborhood, I had the road to myself, all the way to the single stoplight where it ended at the beach.

  It was the light I focused on, solid green, up ahead of me, as I pedaled faster, the fastest yet, my hair blowing back, the spokes of the tires humming. I’d never gone so fast before, and it occurred to me that I should probably be scared, but I wasn’t. On the other side of the light I could see the ocean, big and dark and vast, and I pictured myself hitting the sand and just keeping going, over the dunes and into the waves, the current the only thing strong enough to stop me. I was so immersed in this image, which was amazingly clear in my head, that I didn’t see two things until I was right up on them: the banged-up Toyota truck sitting at the stoplight, and the curb right across from it.

  I saw the truck first. Suddenly, it was just there, although I was positive there had been no traffic when I’d looked only seconds earlier. And maybe it was a good thing that I hardly had time to process that it was, in fact, Eli’s truck. Because the next second, the curb presented itself, and it needed my full attention.

  I was already zooming past Eli when I realized I had to make a decision: try to brake and turn and hope my crash was a small one, or keep going and try to jump the curb. If anyone else had been in that truck, I probably would have taken the first option. But it wasn’t anyone else, and I knew – even in those dwindling seconds, when I could feel every bit of my blood rushing through my ears – that this was probably the best way to explain to him what I’d tried to that morning at the shop. So I jumped.

  It wasn’t like what I’d seen Maggie do that night at the park. Or the tons of bike videos I’d watched over the last few weeks. But it didn’t matter. For me, the feeling of rising up suddenly, suddenly being airborne – the tires spinning into nothing – was amazing. It was like a dream. Or maybe, like waking up from one.

  It only lasted a few seconds, and then I was coming down hard, the bike hitting the pavement with a bang beneath me, even as it kept moving forward. I felt the shock all the way from my fingertips to my elbows as I tried to control the handlebars, hanging on for dear life as the tires skidded, trying to fall over sideways. This was the point where I’d always given into the crash, squeezing my eyes shut as the garbage can or bushes came closer, closer, closer. But now, I kept them wide open and just held on, and after a spray of sand, I was somehow back upright, and moving on.

  My hands were shaking as I carefully eased on my brake, feeling my pulse thudding in my temple. It was all so clear to me – the fast approach, spotting the curb, and launching up, up, up – and yet at the same time, I could not believe I’d actually done it. In fact, it didn’t even seem real until I circled around, still shaking, and saw Eli, who at some point had pulled over to the curb and gotten out of his truck and was now just standing there, staring at me.

  ‘Holy crap,’ he said finally. ‘That was awesome.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  He nodded. ‘And here I thought you couldn’t ride a bike.’

  I smiled, then pedaled back toward him. It was only as I got closer that I noticed he was not in his usual jeans and T-shirt or hoodie, but wearing nice black pants, some vintage-looking shiny dress shoes, and a long-sleeved white shirt, untucked. ‘I couldn’t,’ I said, coming to a stop beside him. ‘Maggie taught me.’

  ‘How to jump, too?’

  ‘Um, no,’ I said, feeling myself flush. ‘I kind of winged that part, actually.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘You couldn’t tell?’

  He looked at me for a moment. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I could.’

  ‘What gave me away? The look of pure terror on my face?’

  ‘Nope.’ He leaned back on his heels. ‘In fact, you didn’t look scared at all.’

  ‘How did I look?’

  ‘Ready,’ he replied.

  I considered this as I looked down at my bike. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I think I was, actually.’

  Maybe this should have felt strange, especially after all that had happened. But it didn’t. Perhaps because it was nighttime, when things that might have felt odd in daylight instead seemed just right. Like riding a bike in a prom dress and crossing paths with only one person, and it’s the only person you want to see.

  If it was light out, I would have questioned more, second-guessed, started to overthink. But now, it seemed natural to turn to Eli and say, ‘You were right, you know.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Me,’ I said. ‘How I always quit if I don’t get something right the first time. It’s been a big mistake.’

  ‘So you believe in second chances now,’ he said, clarifying.

  ‘I believe,’ I said, ‘in however many you might need to get it right.’

  Eli slid his hands back in his pockets. ‘I’m believing in that, too, actually. Especially today.’

  ‘Really.’

  He nodded, then gestured to his truck behind him. ‘So… you know how I said no to you earlier. When you asked about the prom.’

  I felt my face flush. ‘I think I remember that, yeah.’

  ‘I had this competition, in Roardale. I’ve actually been back competing for a few weeks now.’

  ‘I know.’

  He looked surprised, which I had to admit I kind of liked, as it was so rare. ‘How?’

  ‘I’ve been kind of keeping up with the standings,’ I said. ‘Online. So how’d you do?’

  ‘I won.’

  I smiled. ‘That’s great. So I guess you’re back riding for real, now?’

  ‘Nope. I’m done.’

  ‘You’re quitting again?’

  ‘Retiring,’ he corrected me. ‘As of today.’

  ‘Why?’

  He leaned back on his heels, looking down the dark street. ‘I was planning to last year. You know, because I’d gotten into the U, and wanted to go to school. But then…’

  I waited. Because with Eli, he was never trying to get you to finish for him. He always knew where he was going, even if it took a little while to get there.

  ‘… Abe died,’ he said. ‘And everything just stopped. But it wasn’t how I wanted to go out, just dropping off the map like that.’

  ‘You wanted to go out on top,’ I said.

  ‘Or at least try to.’ He reached up, pulling a hand through his hair. ‘So I’m sorry, about today. I wish I’d explained better why I said no.’

  ‘I understand,’ I told him. ‘It was just something you had to do.’

  He looked at me, his eyes so dark. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Exactly.’

  A car was driving up to the light now, its headlights moving across us. They paused, their turn signal ticking, before moving past. Then Eli looked me up and down, taking in my dress and my flip-flops. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To the prom,’ I told him. ‘You?’

  ‘Same. Better late than never, right?’ he said. ‘Want a ride?’

  I shook my head. He raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth to respond, but before he could I reached out, taking his hand, and pulled him closer to me. Then I stood on tiptoes, bringing my lips to his. The kiss was slow and sweet, and while it was happening, I had that image again of us so small, standing in the middle of Colby, under that stoplight, as the entire town and world turned around us. And in that moment, if only for that moment, we were right where we were supposed to be.

  I smiled at him as I stepped back, then up on my pedals again. He turned slowly in a circle, watching me as I slowly rode around him, once, twice, three times, like casting a spell.

  ‘So y
ou don’t want me to take you,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘But I’ll meet you there.’

  Chapter

  NINETEEN

  The coffee in the Defriese cafeteria was good, but not great. It was covered by my meal plan, though, and the cups were bottomless. So I’d learned to like it just fine.

  I fit a travel lid onto my jumbo cup, then pushed out onto the quad, pulling my backpack over my shoulder with my free hand. Now that it was October it was getting colder, a chill to the air that made a warm drink that much more necessary. I climbed onto my bike, balancing my cup with one hand as I carefully rode back across the empty campus to my dorm, a light drizzle starting to fall just as I pulled up at the rack outside. By the time I got to my room, I could hear the rain pinging off the windows.

  ‘Hey,’ Maggie said, peering down at me from the top of our loft as I came in, shaking off my windbreaker. ‘I thought you’d already taken off.’

  ‘Not yet,’ I told her. ‘I had a couple of last things to do.’

  She yawned, leaning back on her bed. ‘Oh, your phone was ringing,’ she said. ‘A couple of times, actually.’

  I sat down on my bed, putting my coffee down on the milk crate I used as a bedside table. In addition to my alarm clock, it also held a stack of books and the contents of Heidi’s latest care package: two bath bombs, a lip gloss, and a brand-new pair of Pink Slingback jeans. I hadn’t had use for any of them yet, but still, I appreciated the gesture.

  Also on my table was my THE BEST OF TIMES picture frame Hollis had given me, all those months ago. I’d forgotten about it until the day I was packing to leave for school, when I realized that I finally had something I could actually put in it. But I couldn’t decide if I should use a shot from the prom, or one of the several I’d taken with Maggie, Esther, and Leah in our last days in Colby. Maybe, I thought, I should use the one of me with Hollis and Laura, the day they officially announced their engagement. I had so many choices that in the end, I just chose to leave it empty until I was absolutely sure. Because maybe, the best of times were yet to come. You never knew.

  There was one picture I did like to keep close at hand, but it wasn’t of me. Instead, I preferred Isby’s face to be the first one I saw when I rolled over in the morning. I’d been surprised by how hard it had been to leave her at the end of the summer. My last day, we’d sat together for over an hour, her asleep on my shoulder as we rocked in the chair in her room. Her warm skin, damp weight, that smell of milk and baby: I could still remember it so easily, as well as all the things I’d whispered in her ear about her, and me, and this world of girls and boys we were both just one small part of. Someday, she’d be able to tell me everything she knew, too. I couldn’t wait.

  In the meantime, I had one other thing to remind me of her. I’d seen it at the local Park Mart during one of my first trips out after coming to school, and without even thinking I’d tossed it into my cart. I was lucky to have Maggie as a roommate for an endless number of reasons. But the fact that she could tolerate the sound of waves once in a while – especially fake ones – was at the top of the list.

  Now, I picked up my phone, scrolling though my missed calls. Sure enough, there were two. One from my mom, who called regularly, presumably to discuss my studies, although we usually got onto other topics pretty quickly these days. Like Laura and Hollis’s wedding, which was making her insane – although she was trying to keep an open mind, she swore – or her slowly growing relationship with Finn, the graduate student with the black-rimmed glasses. He was sweet and funny, and adored my mother. How she felt about him was harder to say. Although I’d been working with her, so that when she was ready to talk about it, she’d be able to.

  The second message was from my dad. He was back at home with Heidi, giving it another shot, a decision he’d made the night of the prom, when he elected not to catch his flight but come over to watch Isby instead. Something about finding my mother walking the floor, soothing her, struck a chord with him, the very image able to convey all the things that I hadn’t been able to. He’d sent my mom back to her hotel and sat with Isby until late that night, when Heidi arrived home, shoes in hand, all abuzz from the Beach Bash. While the baby slept, they talked. And talked.

  He didn’t come home right away. It was a slow process, with a lot of negotiations, and things had changed. Heidi was back at the store part-time, and my dad had dropped to teaching only one course, so they could each work but still have time with the baby. The days neither of them could be home, Isby stayed with either Karen, Eli’s mom – who always liked a bit of baby time – or one of a few Weymar coeds who loved the extra perk of free clothes from Clementine’s. My dad was still trying to sell his novel, but in the meantime, he’d started a new book, one that was about the ‘dark underbelly of parenthood and suburbia’. He only had time to write late at night, but despite the less than nine hours, it seemed to suit him. Plus, he was always up for a chat if I was pulling an all-nighter as well.

  I slid my phone into my pocket, then picked up my bag and coffee. ‘I’m out of here,’ I said to Maggie.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘Oh, wait, I won’t, actually. I’m going to Colby.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s the grand reopening, remember? Oh, I meant to tell you, Adam sent a T-shirt for you. It’s over on your bureau.’

  I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten. Especially since whenever Adam had come to visit – at least every other weekend – it was all he could talk about. He’d taken over managing the shop in the fall, juggling it with his part-time class schedule at Weymar, and he was completely excited about how Clyde was letting him make changes, get in new stock, really spruce the place up. New signs, new specials, new everything. There had been one holdover from the previous manager though, one last thing he needed to do, which I saw when I picked up the shirt, unfolding it.

  ‘Abe’s Bikes,’ I read off the front. ‘It does have a nice ring to it.’

  ‘Don’t you think?’ she replied, sticking her head over the edge to look down at me again. ‘God, but Adam’s a nervous wreck. He’s freaking out that everything has to be perfect, and of course things keep going wrong. I’m afraid he’s going to have a nervous breakdown if anything else screws up.’

  ‘Nah,’ I said. ‘But if it does, just tell him I said to get back on the bike.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’ll understand.’

  I waved at her, then pulled my bag over my shoulder as I made my way down the hallway, then the stairs, to my car. It was just after five, and the sun was going down. By the time I got off the interstate two hours later and pulled into the parking lot of Ray’s, it had already been dark for a while.

  I cut the engine, then sat there for a second, looking in at the bright lights and shiny tables. Ray’s was no Washroom, but the waitresses were nice, and you could sit as long as you wanted. Which was a good thing, when it was late and you had no other options, the way I had been when I’d first discovered it. Now, I had plenty, but one big reason to be here just the same.

  I found him at table four, our favorite, the one in the corner by the window. Mug in his hand, slice of pie, half-eaten, by his elbow, totally immersed in the textbook in front of him. This semester he was taking an insane number of hours at the U, playing catch-up for the year he’d missed, and it had been tough for him at first, going back to school. Kind of new, definitely scary. But luckily, I knew all about inside things like this, and was more than happy to help him on his quest, one paper and test at a time.

  I bent down, kissing his forehead, and he looked up at me and smiled. Then I slid in opposite him as the waitress approached, filling the mug beside me. As I picked it up, it was warm in my hands, and I felt his hand move onto my knee. Morning would come before we knew it. It always did. But we still had the night, and for now, we were together, so I just closed my eyes and drank it all in.

  Writing a book is never easy, and sometimes you need a little help.
For this novel and so many others, I am incredibly lucky to have had the wisdom and guidance of Leigh Feldman and Regina Hayes. Barbara Sheldon, Janet Marks, and my parents, Alan and Cynthia Dessen, provided the moral support any crazy writer needs, especially postpartum. And, as always, I am thankful for my husband, Jay, for making me laugh, helping me remember, and teaching me more than I ever needed to know about bicycles.

  Finally, I’d like to recognize my own world of girls, my babysitters, without whom I would never have had the time to write this book: Aleksandra Marcotte, Claudia Shapiro, Virginia Melvin, Ida Donner, Krysta Lindley, and Lauren Caccese. Thank you for taking such good care of us.