Seven Year Switch Part 11

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU BROUGHT AN AKIRA FOR ME TO ride," I said. I turned sideways in the red pickup to get a better look at the red metallic bikes behind us. Their eerie eyelike handlebars peered back at me. "I just hope I don't get any scratches on it or anything. I have to warn you, I haven't been on a bike in practically forever."

Billy put on the blinker, then took a right. "You know what they say about riding a bike." He glanced over at me. "You'll be fine," he said. "And don't worry, it's a rental, so you and your Akira are both fully insured for damages."

"Great." I took another quick look behind me. The bed of the truck had a bike rack running the width of it. It looked like it could hold a whole row of bikes.

"So," I said. "Is this the truck you use for moving bikes to and from the rental kiosks?"

"One of them. We used to use trailer hitch racks, but the bikes are more protected in the bed of a truck, and I think it's actually easier to just lift the bike up and roll it into the rack, so we're definitely moving in this direction."

We were zigzagging down tree-lined back roads. I thought we were heading away from the ocean, but other than that, I had no idea where we were going. It was kind of nice not to have to be in charge for a change.

I rolled down the window and took a deep breath of spring air. It was a perfect May day-crisp air, blue skies, flowers bursting into bloom.

"It's great to see you so relaxed," Billy said.

I turned and smiled at him. Once I got past agonizing over T-s.h.i.+rt choices, and forgot about the sink camped out on the floor in the middle of my kitchen, I did feel surprisingly relaxed.

Billy was wearing jeans and sneakers and a forest green short-sleeve knit s.h.i.+rt with an actual collar. What kind of guy wore bike shorts to business meetings but not bike rides?

Billy looked over at me. "What are you grinning about?"

"I was just wondering why you're so dressed up today."

"Thanks for noticing," he said. "I don't get this dressed up for just anyone."

A little laugh slipped out before I had time to think about whether he was kidding or not.

"You think I'm kidding, huh?"

"Sorry," I said.

He drove past a ball field, put on the blinker, and took a right onto a dead-end street. "I'm the one who should be sorry, I guess, but I'm warning you, this is as good as it gets. I gave all my ties to my wife's new husband."

"Did you really?"

"Well, metaphorically I did. In reality, he's got enough of his own to last a lifetime. And if he runs out, he's got my ex to buy him a new one every Valentine's Day."

"Where are we anyway?" I asked. Billy had pulled the truck into a wooded parking lot.

He put the truck into park and turned off the engine. "You always do that, by the way."

I put one hand on the door handle. "What?"

He took the key out of the ignition. It was attached to a big key ring filled with keys of all shapes and sizes. He spun it around his finger, then clipped it onto his belt loop. This might have made some guys look like a custodian, but on Billy, the outdoorsy carabiner-clip thing worked.

His racc.o.o.n eyes looked at mine again. "Well, you're the cultural expert, but it just seems to me that whenever someone tells you a little something about his life, the custom is that the other person responds in kind."

"Sorry," I said. "It's been a while." I pulled the lever to open my door.

"Whoa. Come on, one thing."

I clicked the door shut. "Okay, my ex-husband hated ties, too."

Billy reached for his sungla.s.ses. "Perfect," he said. "I feel like I know you better already."

"Wise guy," I said. I opened the truck and jumped out.

Billy opened the back of the truck and climbed up. He lifted the bikes down to me, then handed me the helmets. Finally, he lowered a backpack and swung himself over the side of the truck like a cowboy at a rodeo, not that I'd ever been to one. I walked around and closed the gate at the back of the truck.

I managed to kick up the kickstand and stand astride my Akira without embarra.s.sing myself.

"Wait," Billy said. "Here, sit on the seat. I just want to make sure it doesn't need to be adjusted."

I stood on my tiptoes and straddled the seat.

"Okay, now put one foot on the pedal." He put one hand lightly on my right knee.

I felt such a spark that I was surprised my right leg didn't kick out the way it does when the doctor checks your reflexes at a physical. I tried my best to stay calm and not tip the bike over.

"Now straighten out your leg as far as it can go," he said. His hair had a clean, unfussy smell, and up close you could really see the streaks of gray mixed in with the medium-brown strands. "Perfect. When your leg is fully extended, you should have just a slight bend in your knee."

I felt ridiculously disappointed when he finally let go. He handed me a helmet and strapped on his own. Then he reached down and laced his arms through the backpack. Finally, he pushed up the kickstand on his own bike.

"I'm a Libra," I said. "I'm right-handed. My favorite color is blue. I'm an only child, and both my parents are dead. Now can I ask where we are?"

Billy grinned. "See, I knew you could do it. It's the back entrance to the state park. Almost n.o.body knows it's here. We thought about trying to put in a bicycle kiosk, but we didn't want to ruin the secret. It's got twenty-three miles of trails, all without pa.s.sing a single car, so it's a great place to ride. And sorry about your parents."

"Thanks. We don't have to ride all twenty-three miles, do we?" My legs were tired just thinking about it.

"Relax. We'll just do a nice, easy little loop."

"Perhaps you'd care to define that before I fully commit?"

"Too late." Billy swung his leg over his bike expertly. I watched him glide across the parking lot to the start of the trail.

I unstraddled my bike and walked it across the parking lot after him. If Billy noticed I wasn't actually riding yet, he was gracious enough not to point it out.

He gestured toward the trail with one hand. "Ladies first."

I had a bit of a wobbly start, but once I got going I was fine. The trail was nice and wide, smoothly paved and relatively flat.

Billy rode up beside me. "Isn't this great?" he yelled.

I nodded, and he pulled ahead.

It was gorgeous. Leafy trees and vines were flowering on both sides, and beneath them, I could pick out ferns among vast quant.i.ties of unidentifiable green things. Once I thought I saw a lady's slipper, something I'd only seen in photographs, blooming right at the edge of the trail.

The air smelled fresh and green, and it was laced with the sharper, resinous smell of pine. Occasional huge boulders broke up the foliage like pieces of sculpture. I could hear birds calling out to one another even through my helmet, and when we pa.s.sed a little stream, I caught sight of a couple of deer standing there drinking. They looked at me like I was no big deal.

It didn't take long to start noticing the muscles in my thighs, but it was a good feeling, like discovering body parts I'd forgotten all about. Billy kept to an easy pace, occasionally looking back at me to make sure I was still behind him. As soon as I got my balance, I was even comfortable taking one hand off the handlebar long enough to give him a quick thumbs-up.

Once you factor out sharing the road with cars-smelling their fumes, hearing their noise, and knowing any minute might be your last if one of them miscalculates and takes you out-bike riding is amazingly peaceful. I felt like I could ride forever, just following Billy, not thinking at all, taking a right or a left when he did. Just being.

I wasn't even that tired when Billy made a right turn signal and pulled over. But as soon as I saw it, I knew why we'd stopped. At the side of the trail, there was a drop-off to a pond flanked by three little benches.

"Aww," I said as I fumbled with my kickstand.

Billy was already taking off his helmet. "Time for lunch," he said.

I looked around. "They serve food here?"

He laughed. "They do if you're with me."

We made our way down and sat on the middle bench. Billy took off his sungla.s.ses and looped them onto the front of his s.h.i.+rt. He unzipped the backpack.

I burst out laughing.

"Be careful," he said. "We sell these at our flags.h.i.+p store."

Velcroed to the inside of the front flap of the dark green backpack was a small round wooden cutting board. Behind that were two plastic plates. Directly across from those were neat little compartments holding knives, forks, spoons and a corkscrew in place. At either end of those, a green-and-white-striped cloth dinner napkin sat jauntily in an acrylic winegla.s.s.

Billy raised an eyebrow. "It's our picnic backpack for two. It's called The Datenic."

"Catchy," I said.

"Thank you," he said.

He unzipped another compartment and pulled out a small baguette and a triangle of Brie, and placed them between us on the bench. Next, he removed two bottles of water.

He handed me one. "I guess wine would have been more impressive, but I never drink and ride."

"This is impressive enough," I said. "And the bike I'm riding is probably much safer this way."

He raised his eyebrow again. "I factored that in."

We grinned at each other until I finally looked away. "It's so beautiful here," I said.

When I looked at him again, he was holding up his water bottle in my direction. "To new beginnings," he said.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just tapped my water bottle to his.

He turned and reached for the backpack. The ripping sound of Velcro completely cracked me up.

"Sorry," I said. I reached for one of the cloth napkins and dabbed at my eyes.

He held the little wooden cutting board as if he were going to throw it at me. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Sorry," I said again. "I really am sorry. It's a beautiful backpack. What's it called again?"

Billy shook his head. "Cute," he said.

I picked up the triangle of cheese and started peeling back the foil. He started breaking off hunks of bread.

We chewed for a while in silence. A couple of ducks floated by on the pond in front of us, and beyond them I could see a lily pad with a single pink flower in bloom.

"I can't believe how much I'm eating," I said. "This is the best bread and cheese I've ever had in my entire life."

Billy finished chewing and reached for his water. "Bike riding will do that for you. So, why is it that your ex isn't in the picture as far as your daughter goes?"

A cloud stopped in front of the sun. "Does that look like rain?" I asked.

Billy shook his head.

I took a deep breath. "Actually, he's back in the picture. At least he says he wants to be. He just saw her on Sunday for the first time in seven years."

"Whoa, that's a big deal."

He broke off another hunk of bread and handed it to me, then another for himself.

I nibbled at it and waited for the sun to come out again.

"How did it go?" Billy asked.

Maybe this bike ride wasn't such a good idea after all. Lives were so complicated, how could you ever explain yours to another person? Where would you start? What parts would you leave in and out? And even if you managed to find the energy to dredge it all up and lay it out between you, what was the guarantee that the person you were telling wouldn't turn out to be worse than the person you were talking about?

I sighed. "You mean besides the awkward part?"

"Seven years, it's gonna be awkward. How did he and your daughter do together?"

"Like two peas in a pod," I said. "They've been on the phone every night since then."

"That's good, right? I mean, is there any reason he shouldn't be around her?"

My eyes filled up and I blinked back the tears. "What if he abandons her again?"

Billy draped an arm across the back of the bench and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "I'll take him out."

"Thanks," I said. "That's really macho of you."

"I'm a macho kind of guy. Listen, the thing to hang on to is that there's going to be a lot of s.h.i.+t to go through, but once you get to the other side, the best is yet to come."

I turned to look at him. "How do you know that?" A tear escaped and trickled down my cheek.

Billy wiped it away. And then he kissed me.