The Bike

It happened. All her attempts to discreetly distract her daughter from her bike had failed. When Maggie walked in the kitchen for dinner that night, face full of pride, Anna knew that her daughter’s determination had paid off. She had learned to ride her bike.

Damn 7 year olds.

Maggie’s father had bought the bike. Anna had bought Maggie dolls, legos, books but her father swooped in and bought her a bike on one of his weekends. And oh how she loved her new bike. Anna in a last attempt to remain relevant in her one tracked minded daughter’s head, had even bought her a scooter. The bikes natural competitor. The scooter had been tossed away when Maggie discovered there was no challenge, the bike was a game, there was a reward.

She had covered her daughter with every pad she could buy. Elbow pads, knee pads, even hand pads! Sure she justified it quickly to herself at the store as putting safety first with her child. But, how could she learn with all that gear?

It’s just a bike. She’ll get over it. No, she doesn’t need to get over it. Who cares? So her father and her bike together.

        Anna had never learned. Anna’s older sister, Margot, was 6 years her senior and at the time that Anna took interest in bikes, her sister was over them. Her sister had fell in love with roller blades and going to the rolling rink was a very trendy activity. That had been one of their favorite past times together. Then, after a certain age, bikes are no longer part of life really, or at least they’re easy to avoid. Mike didn’t even know she couldn’t bike, she just always claimed she didn’t like it.

Anna called her sister now, to get a second opinion.

“Get over it. You can’t do everything with Maggie. Are you also planning on being next to her when she takes her first sip of alcohol prom night in Kyle’s basement?” said Margot.

“Wait, who the hell is Kyle?”

“It’s not about Kyle! Anna, it’s about the fact that Maggie’s going to do things without you. Stop focusing on the things you can’t do with her and focus on what you can. Take her the zoo or something. This is childish.” said Margot, sighing so heavily Anna had to move the phone away from her ear. Margo was older and had always found Anna stubbornness, childish.

“Right, yes, of course. You’re right.”

Anna bought a bike the following day. The bike shop was small, intimate. The moment she walked in, a tanned, stocky man doubled stepped to approach her.

“Ah, a new bike? That’s what I like to see!”

Well you’re a bikes salesman so yes, this is what you like to see. Anna laughed politely and pictured the salesman about to fall off a cliff, someone coming to rescuing him and him responding “Ah, I’m getting saved. That’s what I like to see!”

“Let me guess, a trail rider? I usually have an eye for these things!”

Anna quickly figured out that buying a bike as adult means that you are an expert. Why else would a grown woman come into a sporting goods store for a bike? Because she’s a biker, of course. An avid cyclist!

Anna left with a Women’s 28 inch Huffy Savannah. It was mint green and conveniently small enough to rest in the back of her car. It glared at her the whole way home. The bike knew it was a scam, a charade. Anna glared right back, as if to will the bike to f**k off.  Adult sized bikes aren’t equipped with training wheels, Anna loathed the implication. Adults can learn new things! People are supposed to grow! I’m f*****g growing!

By the time she got home, it was already dark outside. She set the bike in the living room. It took up so much space. She busied herself for the rest of the night, but after hours of walking past it, she opened a beer and sat in the couch, facing the bike. It was a stand off.  She was gearing up a great battle. After vowing to have an early wake up for her first attempt in the morning, she went to bed.

Maggie returned home the following morning, earlier than expected and noticed the bike before Anna could move it from the living room. Maggie looked at her mother.

“Mommy, can you ride a bike?”

“Oh Maggie of course, of course mommy can,” Anna said, laughing. She felt the lie slip out unnaturally, robotically. Of all the little white lies she had told her daughter, this one felt off. Santa is real, if you eat more than one cookie in a sitting your teeth with fall out, I can ride a bike. Maggie quickly got very excited and began to spout off all the places they could ride too, starting with the ice cream shop and ending with the moon.

“I can’t,” Anna said, words stumbling, “I can’t ride a bike.” Her lie had not held up, not even for 5 minutes. The room was silent as Anna awaited her daughter’s disappointment.

“Let’s go play puzzle then,” said Maggie, unfazed.

Anna returned the bike that afternoon and as she handed it to the salesman, she didn’t imagine anyone falling off a cliff.