Bike Ride

Riding a bike has always been a type of therapy for me. When I was young and my parents were arguing at home, I’d sneak out and go for a bike ride. When my best friend Avery and I would get into an argument, I’d ride my bike around the block until I came up with a way to fix it. When my tenth grade boyfriend broke up with me for some girl he met at another school, I rode my bike for hours until Mom drove up and made me get in the truck to go home.

The cool spring air blowing through my hair, the sun setting over the lake, and nothing to disturb the quiet except for the birds chirping. My dad never liked me riding my bike alone. “Tate,” he’d say. “One day you’re going to go out by yourself and never come back. Hell, that may be a blessing.” He mumbled the last part. I don’t know if he meant for me to hear it, but it hurt either way. That just made me want to leave more. Maybe part of me hoped I wouldn’t come back.

I pull myself from that thought. My eyes are on the lake instead of the rocky road that I’m riding on. I finally look at the road when I’m thrown off my bike and fly through the air. I land hard on the gravel, my knees making contact first. I feel a strong stinging sensation as my body comes to a rolling stop. I groan as I pull myself into a sitting position and immediately regret all of my life decisions. My eyes settle on the cut on my knee that’s currently causing blood to run down my shin.

Nausea builds as I quickly realize that I won’t be able to ride my bike all the way back home - let alone walk. Then I curse myself as I remember that I wanted to go “offline” for this ride and left my phone at home so I can’t even call Avery to pick me up.

I look around and notice a lake house not far down the gravel road. My body wants to keep laying here and sit with my pain forever, but I know that’s not feasible so I slowly pull myself to my feet. I limp to my bike, which is laying a couple feet away from me, and use it to hold my weight as I begin walking to the closest house.

I try to kick my kickstand on my bike down, but fail and my bike falls over. A loud, involuntary sigh comes out as I look up at the sky. Why? I ask no one in particular. I use the handrail of the stairs to pull myself up, trying to avoid putting weight on my knee which is bleeding a bit less now. I stop at the top of the stairs to take in the large beach house that I’m about to invade. Pristine, white brick with perfectly preened rose bushes in the flowerbeds. Too perfect.

The sound of the door slowly being pulled open makes me jump. I grab the closest column to steady myself. A woman is peeking her head out of the door, her bleach blonde hair laying on her shoulders with beautiful curls. Her bright blue eyes are staring widely at me… Oh. I look insane. Her eyes aren’t just on me, but my bloody leg.

”Hey,” I put on my best smile, ignoring the throb of my knee. “I, well, had a bike wreck as you clearly have seen. I don’t have my phone or a way to get home, so I was wondering if I could maybe borrow a phone.” She stares silently at me. “My name is Tate, by the way.” I mumble.

She finally snaps out of her shock and lets out a small laugh. “Of course. Here, come in and have a seat.” She walks over to me and lays my arm over her shoulder to help me walk in. I’m led to the kitchen and she pulls a chair up to the counter for me to sit. “Let me grab my phone and some first aid stuff.” She begins to walk away, but stops in the doorway and turns back to me. “I’m Sara, by the way.” Then she smiles and walks out of view.

While Sara is gone, I take in my surroundings. Large refrigerator with a screen the size of the door. Beautiful beach and lake themed art hanging on the, you guessed it, pristine white walls. No clutter on the counters. Everything is so clean and pretty. My eyes land on my leg. The blood has reached my pink running shoes and stained the edges. The opposite of clean. The opposite of pretty. We definitely lead different lives.

”You let a random person with a bloody leg into the house?” I hear a man’s voice ask. I can hear him chuckle at the situation Sara has found herself in.

”She seemed nice!” Sara defends her actions. “You know I can’t fight the nurse's urge to help.”

I hear him laughing as she struts back into the kitchen. “Alright!” Sara says cheerfully as she sets everything on the counter next to me. “Let me get you patched up. I hate that your cute running shoes got blood on them!”

I can’t help but smile at her cheeriness. “Yeah,” I laugh. “I just bought these last week, too. I was trying to motivate myself to go running, but clearly it’s better that I stay indoors or else this will happen.” I point to my leg as she giggles.

”Definitely not a great situation to find yourself in, but at least it happened in front of a nurse and doctor’s house! Perfect place for it to happen.” She jokes. Of course this perfect home, with its perfect rose bushes, and its perfect kitchen is owned by a nurse and doctor.

“Hey, babe.” The man calls from another room somewhere in the house. “Where’s the hair cutting scissors?”

”In the bathroom closet!” Sara calls back. She puts on a pair of gloves and wets a small rag under the faucet. Once it’s to her liking, she comes back to me and begins wiping the blood off my leg. “So Tate, are you from around here?”

”Yep, born and raised.” I tell her. “How about you?”

Sara pulls an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit. “This may sting a bit.” She says as she begins wiping the surprisingly small wound. “Sorry, and no. I lived in Riverton, but was born in North Carolina. We moved here when I was in middle school.”

”Babe, I can’t find the scissors.” The man yells again, sounding more annoyed now.

Sara rolls her eyes and laughs. “I swear, you’d think he’s blind. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

She disappears around the corner again. Next to me, Sara’s phone dings. Look, I’m not normally a nosey person…but when I catch a glimpse of my tenth grade boyfriend who broke my heart kissing Sara’s cheek on her lock screen - my heart drops to my ass. Is she in a wedding dress in this picture?! No freaking way.

”Are you sure you don’t need to get your eyes checked?” Sara glances behind her as walks in the room.

His laugh echoes down the hallway. He’s walking into the room when his eyes land on me. Chase Miller, the boy who broke my heart in tenth grade after breaking up with me for some girl from another school. That girl is Sara, who is nursing my leg after I crashed my bike.

”Well, you crashed at a good spot.” He smiles at his joke as Sara shoots him a look. Chase walks over to the cabinet as Sara places a bandage on my knee. I notice him glance at me a few times as he fiddles around the kitchen.

”Okay, Tate.” Sara begins. When Chase hears my name, he stops what he’s doing at the sink for a brief moment. I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t hyper aware of his every move currently. “Here’s my phone. I’m going to put this stuff away.”

Well, Tate. This is your life now. Stuck in your ex’s home with his him and his wife. I grab Sara’s phone, which she left unlocked on the counter, and begin typing Avery’s phone number.

”Tate.” Chase’s voice makes me jump. Hearing him say my name makes my stomach turn.

I grew up with him always calling my name as I raced him to the dock. Last one to jump in the lake has to do the dishes! I yelled back at him as I threw my shirt onto the ground.

”That sounds so familiar.” He adds.

A memory of us hiding in his dad’s workshop closet, trying to have a moment to ourselves. Talking about life. Talking about what we want to do when we finally leave this small town. His hands interlocked in mine. His lips against my…

”Have we met before?” Chase pulls me out of the memory.

”Oh, uh-“ I choke out.

I’m never going for a bike ride ever again.