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.
‘See?’ Adam said, his voice somehow finding my ears. ‘This is a good thing.’
I opened my eyes, intending to respond to this. To tell him he was right, that I understood now, and how grateful I was that he’d given me this chance, and this ride. But just as my vision cleared, I realized we were passing the bike shop, and turned my head, looking at it. The front door was open, and in the second we blew by it I could see the back lights were on and someone was standing at the counter. Someone holding a plastic coffee cup. Maybe we were going so fast that Eli didn’t even see, or if he did, had no way of knowing it was me. But regardless, for one instant, I decided to let go for real, and held up my hands anyway.
For the next week, Maggie and I practiced almost every morning. It was a ritual: I picked up two coffees at Beach Beans, then met her at the jump park clearing. At first, on Adam’s advice, we incorporated what he called ‘assisted riding’, i.e., me pedaling with her holding on to the back of the seat. Then we worked up to her letting go for small increments, while still running behind, so I didn’t topple over. Now, we were increasing those periods, bit by bit, while I continued to work on my balance and pedaling. It wasn’t perfect – I’d had a couple of wipeouts, and still sported scabs on both knees – but it was much better than that first day.
More and more lately, I’d been realizing that my life had again shifted, almost reversing itself. I now stayed home at night, studying and sleeping, and was out in the early morning and afternoon, almost like a normal person. Unlike a normal person, though, I was still spending most of my time alone. If I wasn’t at work or practicing with Maggie, I was at home, avoiding texts from Jason – which were still coming, although not with such regularity, thank God – and phone calls from my parents.
I knew they both had to be wondering what was going on, as I hadn’t talked to either of them in ages, ignoring their calls and subsequent messages. I knew this was childish, and for some reason this actually made it okay to me. Like it was another part of my unfinished quest, making up for lost time. Really, though, some part of me was worried that if I did speak to either of them – even for a moment, one word – whatever I’d barely tapped into that day leaving the Condor would spill out like a big wave, engulfing us all.
The only family member I was talking to was Hollis, but even our contact was sporadic at best, if only because he was so caught up in his new life with Laura. If my dad’s relationship was falling apart, and my mom’s, as usual, never really even starting, Hollis was still bucking convention and his own history. Weird enough that he was still madly in love, long after he usually had lost interest and moved on. Now, he’d done something else shocking.
‘Hollis West.’
Even though I had dialed his number and so knew this was my brother, I was still taken aback by his professional tone. ‘Hollis?’
‘Aud! Hey! Hold on, let me just step outside.’
There were some muffled noises, followed by the sound of a door shutting. Then he was back. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘We’re just on a break from this meeting.’
‘You and Laura?’
‘No. Me and the rest of the personal finance specialists.’
‘Who?’
He cleared his throat. ‘My coworkers. I’m at Main Mutual now, didn’t Mom tell you?’
Vaguely, I remembered my mother saying something about a bank. ‘I guess,’ I said. ‘How long have you been there?’
‘Three weeks or so,’ he said. ‘It’s gone fast, though. I’m really clicking here.’
‘So,’ I said slowly, ‘you like it?’
‘Totally!’ I heard a horn beep. ‘Turns out I’m really good at customer relations. I guess all that bullshitting around Europe did train me for something after all.’
‘You relate to customers?’
‘Apparently.’ He laughed. ‘I got hired on as a teller, but after a week they moved me to the customer service desk. So I handle all the account changes, and safety-deposit applications, stuff like that.’
I was trying to picture Hollis behind a desk at a bank, or anywhere. But all I could see was that shot of him grinning in his backpack in front of the Taj Mahal. This was the best of times?
‘So, Aud,’ he said. ‘I’ve only got a few minutes before I go back in. What’s up down there? How’s Dad and Heidi and my other sister?’
I hesitated, knowing I should tell him about my father moving out. He had a right to know. But for some reason, I didn’t want to be the one to tell him. It was like my dad trailing off another sentence, leaving me to do his dirty work. So instead I said, ‘Everything’s all right. How’s Mom?’
He sighed. ‘Oh, you know. Crabby as always. Apparently I have disappointed her beyond belief by turning my back on my independent spirit and joining the bourgeoisie.’
‘I bet.’
‘And she misses you.’
Honestly, hearing this shocked me almost as much as hearing his new job title. ‘Mom doesn’t miss anyone,’ I said. ‘She’s completely self-sustaining.’
‘Not true.’ He paused for a second. ‘Look, Aud. I know you guys have had your issues this summer, but you should really try to talk to her. She’s still having all this drama with Finn, and…’
‘Finn?’
‘The graduate student. Car sleeper? I told you about him, right?’
I thought of those black-framed glasses. ‘Yeah. I think so.’
‘You know the drill. He’s in love with her, she won’t commit, blah blah blah. Usually they scare off easy, but this one, he’s tenacious. He is not giving up. It’s kicking up all her issues.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Sounds intense.’
‘Everything is, where she’s concerned,’ he replied. ‘Look, Aud, I gotta get back inside for this brainstorming session. But seriously. Give her another shot.’
‘Hollis. I don’t…’
‘At least consider it, then. For me?’
I didn’t feel like I owed Hollis all that much, to be honest. So I suppose it said something about his people skills that I still heard myself say, ‘All right. I’ll think about it.’
‘Thank you. And hey, call me later, all right? I want to hear what else is going on.’
I assured him that I would, and then he was gone, back into his meeting. And I kept my word, and did think about talking to my mom. I decided against it. But I did consider it.
Then it was back to the same old, same old. I tried to steer clear of Heidi, who had thrown herself full throttle into planning the Beach Bash. Ignored my parents’ messages. Read another chapter, did another set of study questions. Turned off the light when I felt my eyes get heavy and then lay there in the dark, never believing that sleep would come until the exact moment when it did. The only time I let my mind go to anything other than school and work, actually, was when I was on the bike. And then, I thought only of Eli.
Since that day we’d blown past him on the boardwalk, I’d seen him a handful of times. He was passing by the front windows of Clementine’s as I took stuff out of the register, or standing in front of the shop, showing a bike to a prospective customer. It was easy to tell myself that we were only not talking because we were so busy with other things, and I could almost believe that. But then I’d remember what I’d said to him about slacking off, and the look on his face just before he’d walked away from me, and I knew otherwise. This was my choice, my decision. He was the closest thing I’d ever had to something, or someone, that mattered. But in the end, close didn’t count. You were either in, or you weren’t.
What I thought about most, though, when I was on the bike, was my quest. At the time, it had seemed like a silly little game, something to pass the time, but now, I was understanding it was so much more than that. Night after night, task after task, he’d helped me to return to my past and make some things – if not everything – right. Eli had given me all these second chances, presented like a gift. In the end, though, I was one short. Still, as I pedaled around the jump park lot, Maggie either holding on or right behind me, I wished I could just show him this one thing. I knew it wouldn’t make up for everything else. But for some reason, I wanted him to know anyway.
So in the mornings, I practiced my riding, slowly gaining speed and confidence. At night, I sat in front of my laptop, searching for clips on LiveVid of him in one competition after another. Watching him move across the screen, so quick and sure, it hardly seemed like they could be related, my fledgling efforts and his complete skill and mastery. But at their core, they were the same thing. Each was about propelling yourself forward, into whatever lies ahead, one turn of the wheel at a time.
First, there was squealing. Then, giggling. But it wasn’t until I heard the music start up that I put down my pen and went to investigate.
It was ten fifteen, and I was doing what I always did in the evenings, these days: getting ready to do some school-work. After finishing up the books at Clementine’s, I’d grabbed a sandwich from Beach Beans, which I ate alone in the kitchen, savoring the fact that I had the house to myself. Once I was settled and ten minutes into World Economic Theory and Practices, though, I suddenly had company. The loud kind.
I went halfway down the stairs, then peered into the kitchen to see a crowd. Heidi, in shorts and a black tank top, was piling plastic bags on the kitchen table as Isby, strapped in her stroller, watched. A blonde Heidi’s age was popping a beer as another girl, a brunette, dumped some tortilla chips into a bowl. Maggie, Leah, and Esther were all seated around the table, more plastic bags piled up in front of them.
There’s a certain sound that can only be made by a group of women. It’s not just chatter, or even conversation, but almost a melody of words and exhalations. I’d spent a lot of my life listening to it from just this kind of distance, but still, it never failed to make me acutely aware of every bit of the space between me and its source. At the same time, though, this was where I preferred to be, which was why it was so unsettling when Heidi looked up and spotted me.
‘Auden,’ she called out as someone turned up the music, which sounded like salsa, fast with a lot of horns. ‘Hey. Come join us!’
Before I could react, everyone had turned and looked at me, making a fast retreat not just awkward but impossible. ‘Um,’ I said. ‘I –’
‘This is Isabel,’ she continued, pointing at the blonde, who nodded at me. Then she gestured to the brunette. ‘And this is Morgan. My oldest friends in Colby. Guys, this is Auden, Robert’s daughter.’
‘So nice to finally meet you!’ Morgan said. ‘Heidi just raves about you. Raves!’
‘Did you get my messages?’ Heidi asked as she lifted Isby out of her stroller. ‘I tried to let you know we were coming, but your mailbox was full.’
‘Wow,’ Leah said, raising her eyebrows. ‘Someone’s popular.’
‘Actually,’ I said as Esther upended a bag onto the table, spilling out a pile of little picture frames, ‘I’m making a bunch of calls right now.’
‘Oh. Well, when you’re done, then.’ Heidi reached over, taking the beer that Isabel was offering her as Morgan put the chips on the table. ‘We’ll be here, I’m sure. We’ve got at least three hundred favors to make.’
‘Three hundred?’ Leah said. She narrowed her eyes at Maggie. ‘You said…’
‘I said it would be fun, and it will be,’ Maggie replied. ‘What else were you going to do tonight, anyway?’
‘A lot of things! It’s Ladies’ Night at Tallyho.’
‘No, no, no to Tallyho,’ Esther said, picking up a picture frame.
‘Amen to that,’ Isabel agreed. ‘That place gives me the skeevies.’
Back in my room, I picked up my pen again and tried to immerse myself in the politics of global currency. After a few bursts of laughter from downstairs, I got up and shut the door. I could still hear the music through the floor, though, the beat insistent and distracting. Finally, I picked up my phone, flipping it open and dialing into my mailbox.
Heidi was right: it was full, mostly with old messages from my parents I’d never gotten around to really listening to. I worked my way through them, one by one, my eyes on the dark ocean outside.
‘Auden, hello, it’s your mother. I’ll try you again later, I suppose.’
Delete.
‘Hi, honey, it’s your dad. Just taking a break from doing some revisions, thought I’d give you a call. I’ll be here in the room all day if you want to call or drop by. I’ll keep an eye out for you.’
Delete.
‘Auden, this is your mother. Your brother is now working at a bank. I hope you are adequately horrified. Goodbye.’
Delete.
‘Hi, Auden, Dad here again. Wondering if you might want to meet at the Last Chance, I’m getting a little sick of room service. Give me a call, okay?’
Delete.
‘Auden. I am getting tired of your voice mail. I will not be calling again until I hear from you.’
Delete.
‘Honey, Dad again. I guess I’ll call the house number, maybe you’re not answering this one anymore?’
Delete.
They just went on and on, endlessly, and yet I felt nothing as I kept hitting the same button, erasing them. Until I got to this one.
‘Oh, Auden. You are clearly avoiding me.’ There was a sigh, as familiar to me as my own face. Then, though, she said, ‘I suppose this is what I deserve? As always, I seem to be especially adept at alienating the few people I actually want to talk to. I don’t know why that is. Maybe you’ve figured it out, in your summer of transformation? I wonder…’
I pulled the phone away, looking down at it. This message was from two days ago, at around five P.M. Where had I been, when she’d left it? Probably alone as well, in the office at Clementine’s, here in my room, or somewhere in between.
I thought of my mother, sitting at her kitchen table, with Hollis off working at a bank, and me, for all she knew, riding in a car with boys while wearing a pink bikini. How different we had to be from what she had expected, or planned, all those days when, like Heidi, she rocked us and carried us and cared for us. It was so easy to disown what you couldn’t recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.
Now, as there was another round of laughter from downstairs, I hit number one on my speed dial, and waited.
‘Hello?’
‘Mom, it’s me.’
A pause. Then, ‘Auden. How are you?’
‘I’m okay,’ I said. It felt strange, talking to her after all this time. ‘How are you?’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I suppose I am okay, also.’
My mother was not the touchy-feely type. Never had been. But there was something in her voice, in that message, that gave me the courage to say what I did next.
‘Mom? Can I ask you something?’
I could hear her hesitate before she said, ‘Yes. Of course.’
‘When you and Dad decided to split up, was that… did you do it right away? Or did you, like, try and work it out for a long time first?’
I don’t know what she’d been expecting me to ask. But based on the long silence that followed, it wasn’t this. Finally she said, ‘We tried very hard to stay together. The divorce was not a decision we made lightly, if that’s what you’re asking. Is that what you’re asking?’
‘I don’t know.’ I looked down at my book, my pad lined up beside it. ‘I guess… forget it. I’m sorry.’
‘No, no, it’s all right.’ Her voice was closer to the phone now, filling my ear. ‘Auden, what’s going on? Why are you thinking about this now?’
I was embarrassed, suddenly, to realize that I had a lump in my throat. God, what was wrong with me? I swallowed, then said, ‘It’s just… Dad and Heidi are having problems.’
‘Problems,’ she repeated. ‘What kind of problems?’
From downstairs, I heard another round of laughter. I said, ‘He moved out a couple of weeks ago.’
She exhaled slowly, the kind of sound someone makes as they watch a baseball fly over a fence, way, way gone. ‘Oh, my. I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Are you?’
I said this without really realizing it, and instantly regretted how surprised I sounded. Her tone was a bit sharper as she said, ‘Well, of course. One never likes to see a marriage in trouble, especially when a child is involved.’
And just like that, I was crying. The tears just came, filling my eyes and spilling over, and I sucked in a breath in an attempt to maintain my composure.
‘Auden? Are you all right?’
I looked out my window at the ocean again, so steady and vast, seemingly never changing and yet always in flux. ‘I guess I just wish,’ I said, my voice wavering, ‘that I’d done some things differently.’
‘Ah,’ she said. Like she understood totally, even with so little given. Subtext, indeed. ‘Don’t we all.’
Maybe with normal mothers and daughters, it was more straightforward. They had the kind of back-and-forth that left no ambiguity or question, saying exactly what they meant, when they meant it. But my mom and I weren’t normal, so this – stilted and vague as it might be – was the closest we’d come to each other in ages. It was like reaching out for someone’s hand, then missing their fingers, or even their arm, and hitting their shoulder instead. But no matter. You hang on tight anyway.
For a moment, we just sat there on the line, neither of us saying anything. Finally I said, ‘I should go. My friends are downstairs.’
‘Of course.’ She coughed. ‘Call me tomorrow, though?’
‘Yes. Absolutely.’
‘All right. Good night, Auden.’
‘Good night.’
I closed my phone, then put it on the bed, on top of my textbook, and walked over to the door. As I went down the hallway and then the stairs, I could hear that same familiar melody, playing louder than ever.
‘… just don’t understand why suddenly we’re all acting like prom night was so great,’ Isabel was saying.
‘Because it was,’ Morgan replied.
‘For some of you.’
‘Exactly,’ Esther said. ‘Some of us got stuck with drunk dates who never made it out of the parking lot.’
Morgan snorted. Isabel said, ‘Shut up.’
‘Personally,’ Heidi was saying, ‘I think prom is one of those high school things that you either really loved or really hated. Like high school itself.’
‘I loved high school,’ Maggie said.
‘Of course you did,’ Leah told her. ‘You dated the hottest guy, you had the best grades, and everyone loved you.’
‘You never wanted everyone to love you,’ Esther said to Leah.
‘I wouldn’t have minded if somebody did, though,’ she replied.
‘My high school boyfriend broke my heart, remember,’ Maggie told her.
‘Mine, too!’ Morgan sighed. ‘God, that sucked.’
‘He was a tool,’ Isabel told her. ‘Way too much hair gel.’
Now Esther snorted. Leah said, ‘Shut up.’
‘See, though,’ Heidi said, ‘this is why this is such a good theme! People who loved prom can relive the experience. People who hated it get another shot. Everyone wins.’
‘Except the losers stuck doing three hundred favors,’ Leah grumbled. Then she looked up and saw me. ‘Hey. You decide to come be a loser, too?’
I swallowed, aware of Heidi looking at me, noticing my red eyes, her expression suddenly concerned. ‘You bet,’ I said.
Maggie scooted over in her chair, making a space for me, and I sat down beside her. ‘So,’ Isabel said. ‘Auden. Prom love or prom hate?’
‘Prom hate,’ I replied. ‘I got stood up.’
There was a round of gasps. ‘You what?’ Morgan said. ‘That’s terrible!’
‘And,’ Leah added, ‘the guy is down here now and won’t stop texting her.’
‘You know what you should do,’ Morgan said. ‘You should ask him to the Beach Bash, and then stand him up.’
‘Morgan.’ Isabel raised her eyebrows. ‘Listen to you, going all vigilante!’
‘I think,’ Heidi said, ‘that you should find someone you really want to go with, and do it right. That’s my opinion.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I think it’s a little late for that.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Leah told me. ‘It’s Ladies’ Night at Tallyho.’
I smiled. ‘No, no, no to Tallyho.’
‘That’s my girl!’ Maggie beamed, then bumped me with her shoulder.
Everyone laughed, and just like that, the conversation shifted, jumping to another topic. It was fast and furious, the talking, the emotion, the back-and-forth and forth-and-back. I realized that if I tried to focus on it too much, I got overwhelmed. So I just decided to relax into it, bumpy and crazy as it might be, and try for once to just go along for the ride.