among the questions i wanted to ask him
how do you atone for your bike sins? you know, the times when you make mistakes, too eager, too careless, too selfish. i switched lanes hastily, as i made my way into center city, didn't signal -- they honked and i hunched down lower. i missed the turn down 23rd to the south street bridge, my mind elsewhere when i realized and stopped short in the intersection, the woman in the passenger seat behind me (a wife, i imagined) sticking her hand out, frightened, as if it would change anything. and the time i blindly followed another biker through a red light, but too slowly. i caught a glimpse of their faces as they slammed the brakes. what the fuck, i imagined they said, what the fuck is her problem.
i had wanted to ask him these questions, during what became the last time we would see each other on such circumstances -- those of affection, sweetness, stupid optimism, wasn't it all? we always believe until we can't.
he said that he had fallen for me before we ever really met, for this apologetic, nervous smile i had, a look he had memorized from the films i made about my dreams. who was it that he had fallen for? the truth was, i knew the answer --
i would just have to be extra polite to cars.
"everyone's mad all the time," he once told me, as an explanation for why he was so conscientious on his bike, on the road. he answered my questions and i dutifully wrote his responses down, waiting to see what would stay with me.
yesterday, i let a car go ahead of me even though it was my turn and i smiled, apologetically. i was working to atone for my bike sins, i thought, and i thought of him, and the stoplight i once ran, the first time we biked the south street bridge together, and how after i ran it, i realized my mistake -- but it was a crosswalk for only pedestrians and no one was crossing the street, i swear -- and turned around to meet his eyes and smiled, apologetically, nervously. he just laughed though i didn't know he already knew that look on me, could already recognize it, and he kept pedaling behind me, like: no harm done.
i had wanted to ask him these questions, during what became the last time we would see each other on such circumstances -- those of affection, sweetness, stupid optimism, wasn't it all? we always believe until we can't.
he said that he had fallen for me before we ever really met, for this apologetic, nervous smile i had, a look he had memorized from the films i made about my dreams. who was it that he had fallen for? the truth was, i knew the answer --
i would just have to be extra polite to cars.
"everyone's mad all the time," he once told me, as an explanation for why he was so conscientious on his bike, on the road. he answered my questions and i dutifully wrote his responses down, waiting to see what would stay with me.
yesterday, i let a car go ahead of me even though it was my turn and i smiled, apologetically. i was working to atone for my bike sins, i thought, and i thought of him, and the stoplight i once ran, the first time we biked the south street bridge together, and how after i ran it, i realized my mistake -- but it was a crosswalk for only pedestrians and no one was crossing the street, i swear -- and turned around to meet his eyes and smiled, apologetically, nervously. he just laughed though i didn't know he already knew that look on me, could already recognize it, and he kept pedaling behind me, like: no harm done.