is, I realize with bittersweet pride, a good teacher. Even for someone so young. He’s patient and thorough, and he insists on trying to teach me, even when I say I’d be happy to sit and watch him ride alone.
He’s a nice boy, I realize is what I’m trying to formulate. He grew up to be such a decent, kind boy.
We must have been riding for an hour. Beside me, Abek has one hand on the bicycle seat and the other on the handlebars, keeping me from tipping over or steering off the road. I can see the muscles in his skinny arm tense so hard they’re quivering. His knuckles have turned white, and he’s panting harder than I am as he works harder and harder to keep up.
“We can stop,” I start to call out.
“No, I have it; I’m not letting you fall.”
“You’re getting tire—”
“Zofia, watch the road.”
But it’s too late. When I turn to look at Abek, my body forgets it is connected to the handlebars, that turning myself will also turn the bicycle. Abek tries to right it again but can’t. For a perilous moment, the bicycle hangs in balance, deciding which way to topple, and then Abek grabs my waist and pulls me toward him so we fall toward the higher ground instead of a ditch.
My knees skid against the grass, but it’s worse for Abek. I’ve landed half on top of him, the heel of my shoe digging into his shin.
“Are you all right?” I ask, rolling to my knees, terrified that I’ve injured him.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he apologizes, scrambling to his feet. “I said I wouldn’t let you fall; I promised.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose,” I assure him, relieved he’s not hurt. “Unless you did do it on purpose because I made you get up so early.”
He shakes his head, mortified. “I promise I didn’t.”
“Abek, I was joking. Of course you didn’t do it on purpose. I had fun.”
“Really?”
“I really had fun. You’re a good teacher.”
He gallantly offers his hand, helping me up, and then we both hear the sound of someone approaching from the stables.
“At least with the horses, they look sort of guilty when they throw you,” the voice calls. I turn my head and see Josef, hands in his pockets. “That bicycle doesn’t care at all.”
He’s wearing the shirt I repaired only a few hours ago, and thinking of this turns my stomach warm. I wonder if I was supposed to do something when I left—leave him a note or wake him again. I don’t know the protocol for leaving a man’s bed in the middle of the night.
“Those horses never look guilty,” I say, feeling for any remaining grass in my hair.
“You’re just not close enough friends with them yet.”
Abek is looking back and forth between us. I’m glad I introduced them yesterday; I wouldn’t know how to now. My friend Josef? My beau? He must have seen us leave together last night.
“The brakes squeak, right?” Josef turns to Abek. “That’s what I heard someone say yesterday.”
“They squeak. And this chain won’t stay on.”
Josef crouches down, and Abek kneels next to him, their heads close together as they examine the chain, hands growing greasy and dark.
“I don’t really know anything about bicycles,” Josef is telling Abek. “But, what if we tried just cleaning the chain? The grease is caked on.”
“I should have tried that before we even rode them,” Abek says.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t have mattered. These bicycles are a mess.”
They look so at ease with each other. I like how Josef talks to Abek, reassuring him that he wasn’t at fault for the malfunctioning bicycles. I like how Abek listens.
Family? My heart asks the question before my brain can stop it. Is this what my future could look like, or some form of it?
“There are some clean rags in a pile in the stables,” Josef tells Abek. “I can work on the chain, and then, if we wanted to try something for the brakes, the trade school building might have a kind of oil that would work. Do you want to go see? It’s the A-frame building behind the dining hall.”
Abek wipes his greasy hands in the grass before disappearing into the stables, returning a few moments later with a couple of soft flannels. “These?” he asks, tossing them over and then setting off in the direction of the building that Josef described, eyeing me quickly to make sure it’s okay.