Induction

One day my dad finally decided I was old enough to graduate from my tiny street and took me on a ride to the center of town. I knew the ride was a test to see if I could handle the great outdoors. Everything was going great until I hit a sandy patch on the sidewalk. The rear tire fishtailed and I landed on my ass. Let’s just say we walked the bikes back home, and I spent a few more months on the street. I had my revenge, though. By the time I hit high school, their trepidation was all but gone.

My mom owned a retail store and it didn’t open until ten in the morning, so she enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in. That plan didn’t work out when I woke up constantly late and missed the bus. My only option was to ride Big Bird, the name I bestowed on my ugly ten-speed, to school. Like I suspected, that bike became a topic of much ridicule over my freshman year. So as a tribute, I forgot it at school on the last day and didn’t say anything for a couple weeks. After I felt enough time had passed for someone to steal it, I told my parents. It wasn’t a far stretch, considering my forgetfulness was almost as bad as my clumsiness. And that was the last time I had been on a bike.

“Florida in October is awesome,” I exclaimed, pulling myself from the memory. The temperature was in the mid-eighties and there was no humidity. I grabbed my sunglasses and hopped on the bike.

The first few minutes were precarious, but after we turned off the street it became easier to navigate. The bike Jake picked for me looked nothing like Big Bird. It reminded me more of Pee-Wee Herman. Cherry red with long handlebars. He had affixed a cute little bell close enough to ring without having to move my hands. I bet he didn’t realize how smart this actually was. I could just imagine the catastrophic spill I would take were I to attempt riding with one hand.

Jake rode circles around me, literally.

“Stop doing that, dork. You’re gonna make me dizzy. And if I fall, you’re carrying my ass home.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “Don’t be such a chicken.”

The sun felt good on my shoulders and the ride did wonders to alleviate the constant state of stress nursing school kept me in. I had to reposition my butt a few times since the seat kept giving me an atomic wedgie.

The beach packed in the tourists like sardines. The challenge became finding enough open space to stretch out the towels and not be on top of our neighbors. Jake carried the cooler to the sand and opened it to reveal a six-pack of Labatt Blue and some sandwiches.

“Well, didn’t you just go all out? You sly dog.” Leaning over, I gave him a quick peck.

The chicken salad and beer went down easy, and I thought about my marriage. I had kissed my share of frogs before finding Jake, and it didn’t take long to realize he was a keeper. He was one of those men who subscribed to the happy wife, happy life theory. After a short stint in the army he attended Villanova University in Philadelphia and earned his degree in computer programming. His career was now in full swing, and he had the luxury of working from home, which made special afternoons like this easy to accommodate.

Dusting sandwich crumbs from my hands I stripped down to my bathing suit and held my hand out to Jake.

“Come on; let’s go for a swim.”

“I’ll follow you. I want to admire the view.” Giving my ass a little pat, he let out an admiring whistle. I slapped him playfully and ran to the shore, dipping my foot in. The water temperature was in the seventies. Growing up in New England, it was damn near a miracle for the water to hit seventy degrees there. Now, having acclimated to Florida weather, my teeth chattered any time my pool went below eighty-five. The cold water shocked my system when it hit my inner thighs and I turned back to Jake.

“Come on slow poke, the water’s nice and warm.” I let out a giggle as I said it, knowing he’d believe me and run into the water to catch up. What can I say? Misery loves company.

I broke into laughter as Jake ran to the water and dove in head-first.

He came up for air yelling, “Holy shit! You’re gonna pay for that!” And so began the fight to dunk me. Which, of course, he won. We warmed up by walking hand-in-hand up the beach. Further up the shore we saw an ambulance drive onto the sand.

“The day is never complete until a snowbird passes out on the beach. Cape Coral, Florida. Home of the geriatric population of the world,” I griped.

“It looks pretty bad,” Jake mused. A crowd had gathered around the commotion.

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