Memories...

I'm not sure why, but I didn't learn how to ride a bike until I was nine. I had a scooter, roller skates, and managed just fine. But when I was nine I was forced to conquer a bike. Everyone else was doing it.

We had a couple rickety Schwinn's, too big for me, that I learned on. Battling black widows in the shed to pull them out was definitely not a motivator. But I learned.

From 9-12 I rode, fell down, rode and fell down more. As a 12th birthday present I got a ten-speed. Granted, I knew nothing of all the different "speeds" you could go other than peddle, pump, and slide. It became a joke, my falling down. This was also when wearing a helmet was a rarity and made you a sissy, even to adults.

So, one spring day I was riding home from school, just after a crosswalk and back on the sidewalk that I fell. Hard. For no apparent reason to my knowledge. I fell off the bike, into the street and slid along the blacktop into traffic. My arms were pinned underneath me, dragging my wrists across the blacktop. When I was no longer moving I noticed people were stopped in their cars staring at me. I stood, picked up the bike and started limping home. Halfway I decided it was too painful to walk so slowly and rode the rest of the way.

I took stock of the damage. Huge gash in the left knee with pebbles sticking out. Both of my wrists looked like someone had put out a cigar in exactly the same place. Above my right temple, road rash. (Hair still refuses to grow there.) Another big gash through my right eyebrow. (No hair there either.) And a big right shoulder burn.

Clothes came off and bubbled bath ensued. I was sitting there in the tub, as I liked to do in childhood, contemplating why I was such a bad biker. The bathroom door flew open and my neighbor (babysitter and surrogate grandma) looked me over. This sounds odd but to her I was still a baby.

"What the hell happened to you!" She yelled in her British voice.

"I fell off my bike. Again."

"You need to stop riding that fucking thing."

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Alright. Well, come over after you're cleaned up and I'll make you a ginger ale."

I threw the bike in the dumpster. My sister later retrieved it, brought it to college and had it stolen. I told her I was glad it would hurt the thief.




This weekend I went to Newport with Work Guy. We have been quite the trip buddies and having a good time. However, this was weird. On the way to his parents I mildly suggest we drive by the ocean. Last time we were there we just stayed around the harbor and I love the waves. He looked at me like I didn't comprehend.

"Umm, the beach is way over there.."

"No, I just meant when we get closer to your dad's. Maybe we could just drive by." I mean, I know the area. My sister went to school at UCI and I would drive over to the beach all the time.

"Oh, yeah maybe we can get close enough." Where was the guy who used to always go way out of his way. Now a 5 minute detour was improbable. He made more excuses. When did he start to find me stupid?


First night we get in and he is busy with his family and stays away from me. If I go outside, he goes in and such. Here we were in the kitchen as his step-mom is preparing steak and worrying over what I will eat and he walks away to leave me stuttering "I can have salad!"

I was really trying. I went to the store with her to get chicken, talked to everyone and was feeling pretty solid in my effort to be social. He was just moving around. I don't need to be anxious or uncomfortable. Then, as I'm eating, after everyone else is done, he asks if it's "ok to go out on the boat with his dad." I stared up at him and said mockingly "No, you cannot leave me." Why was he asking for permission in front of all these people? I didn't want to be left alone to make small talk but I have no choice.


It was strained and weird. Something is going on with us. I think he has tired of my novelty quirks and just wants me to be comfortable with whatever he wants to do.

In the morning, after graciously telling his step-mom I don't eat Canadian bacon, I suggested we get kayaks and paddle around. Work Guy looks at me like I'm a lunatic. He does not want to do that.

After some coffee, we went for a walk on the beach. In the parking lot I called my sister to coordinate our schedules. I had to see her while I was there. I've seen more of his family than my own. She was suggesting we stay with her, I said Work Guy is allergic to cats. He gave me a dirty look, very uncommon and serious, and told me he has allergy medicine. Then she suggested seeing Harry Potter. I told Work Guy and he looked like he would rather be dipped in tar. He's never seen a Harry Potter or read the books nor does he enjoy such works. Unlike me. The novelty girl.

I told Meghan he didn't like it. He gave me another scathing look. I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I would rather be completely alone in this world than have to endure another look. Meghan suggested we ride the train up to LA, to avoid all the traffic. Work Guy doesn't like trains, we can drive. If I had any money and wasn't worried about losing my house, I would take a fucking train to LA, spend the remainder of the weekend with my sister and fly home to live out the rest of my life as a spinster.



On the way to the beach Work Guy talked to his uncle about going to the OC Fair that night. Apparently we would ride bikes there. He knows about my disability with bikes. But I reminded him again.


"It will be fine. We'll figure it out."

A little while later he brings up the bikes again. Dude. I suggested we rent bikes and see how it goes before attempting to ride one to opening day at the fair. Again, he says we'll figure something out.

After a silent walk on the beach where I felt peacefully alone, we headed back to the house to take the boat out on the harbor. On the boat I tried to talk about my renewed interest in writing. I love California, have always wanted to live there and maybe if I can sell a book and make a little money I can make that happen. Normally when we have these discussions they get involved with how's and whys. He seemed too tired to talk about my pipe dreams. So we talked about his. Lapsed into silence and further attempts to talk.

We pulled in to a restaurant for lunch and I asked why it was so awkward. Is he sick of me? He had the same fears, was acting the same way as me because of the tension. We laughed it off, hugged kissed and things felt a little better. After packing up and heading to his uncle's house, he brought up the bikes again. I was really going to have to do this....

I was given a rusty beach cruiser and assured I would be fine. "It's just like riding a bike." Ha. I got on and went forward. I can see why Californians are all about the outdoors. It's cool outside even in the summer and everywhere you ride it's beautiful. I started to feel pretty good about myself. Maybe I should get a bike at home. Use it to go to the market, down the canal with Kelly or Ange...

Up ahead the aunt and uncle turn at a street with heavy traffic. Very little room to turn. Could I make it? I became so nervous I hit the breaks, tried to hop off and slid. My left hand had a small gash and my hip hurt. But more so, I felt like a fucking fool. The tears welled up and made me even more ashamed. Work Guy pulled up next to me and I stared after the family members, praying they wouldn't turn around. I smiled and tried to stop the tears. I could make it. I could keep going. It will be all right. They came back and I laughed it off. Just the traffic made me nervous. Turns out it was like 3 miles to the fair, through traffic. Work Guy said we should just go back and get the car. I ruined everything and looked like an ass all because I am a 29 year old defect who can't ride a bike.

Peddling back I cried. The family stayed ahead, probably because it was obvious I was being a cry baby. Work Guy apologized. I wanted him to stop talking to me. If he didn't shut up I wouldn't be able to stop and the family would think I was even more pathetic. All I could think was, I told him I didn't want to ride a bike. No that I couldn't ride a bike, and he pressured me to do it. He didn't want to kayak or go to the beach or ride a train or see Harry Potter and he has bad allergies. I didn't pressure him.

Everyone joked after I cleaned up my hand and we drove to the fair. I told my last bike accident story to the aunt and she was aghast they made me get on a bike. I was such a problem. No beef or pork, no bikes. I was determined to be good natured and enjoy the fair. My hip was going to have a hell of a bruise.

I may hate bikes but I love roller coasters. The faster the ride, the better. Apparently that is a no, no with Work Guy. I went on 2 with the aunt and 1 with Work Guy. We walked around. He apologized more, but refused to be put out of his comfort zone to go on a ride. He won me a stuffed dog instead, which was very nice. I left it at the uncle's house.

I was determined to put this bike accident behind me, forgive Work Guy and move forward. The next morning I woke up early and jumped in the shower. We were supposed to be doing breakfast with his uncle and two little kids before meeting up with the rest of the family at the beach. As I was soaping up I felt proud of myself for getting out of bed at a decent hour and being prepared for whatever today was throwing at me.

Work Guy came into the bathroom and asked how long I was going to take. How long?! I have been in the shower exactly 5 minutes! Well, the kids are hungry and his uncle can't stall them for long... Why am I even here? Obviously I am in the way. If he wanted a weekend with his family then he should have said so and I would stay home. I like my home. No one ever makes me feel like I don't belong there.

"Just go to breakfast then."

"Well, I mean we can wait for a while.."

"I just got in the shower. I won't be ready for a while. It's fine."

"We'll bring you something back." Oh great. I hope its steak and eggs or a sausage sandwich.

A few minutes later he comes back to tell me that his uncle gave the kids some raisins to hold them off. I was feeling more and more anxious by the minute. Now I was allowed to go if I hurried. And I was still in the shower. Tears came. I told him again just to go. I wasn't going to be the bitchy girlfriend who made young children starve so she could apply makeup. Besides, they have to be starving if he's coming into the bathroom while I am soaking wet to tell me. How hard is it to say "Uncle, she just got in the shower. Feed the kids now and we'll pick something up on the way to the beach." Or something. When is it right to just leave your girlfriend at some foreign house while you go off?

I cried for a while and finished my shower. Makeup wasn't easy with tears. At least the family dog loved me. Two hours later they returned. Work Guy gave me a coffee and a turkey bacon and egg sandwich that I ate in pieces while tearfully telling him I felt left out. What was he supposed to do? The kids were hungry. I am a bad person for putting myself above little children with rumbling tummies. How can I justify how bad it made me feel? So I cried again, and the awkwardness returned.

We went to the beach and I was on little kid patrol. Ah, I was here for my uterus. The fact that I won't allow little kids to drown and want them to have a good time makes me a perfect companion. While I got sand shoved into my hand wound and dirty harbor water soaked into me all for following around a toddler, Work Guy stayed clean on the beach and looked down his nose at me. There was no "You're so great with my cousins." or "Thank you for pitching in while my aunt's away." No, it was expected because I am a girl and while I may not wake up completely showered and made up and can therefore be left behind if the occasion calls for it, I must also babysit.

We stopped on the way to my sister's house to grab food. It was awkward and I received the bored look. I thought to myself silently that I was one day away from going home. I love my sister, and was excited to see her. In our family we take what others like/need into account. I knew she was cleaning fiendishly to help reduce the cat hair for Work Guy's comfort. She wouldn't force him to go see Harry Potter. In fact they went out of their ways to make him feel at home. My brother-in-law pouring Guinness expertly every time Work Guy went dry.

We went back to AZ the next day. All was quiet. I was happy to get home and be alone. A bruise the size of my hand formed on my hip and under my knee. My hand got infected from all the sand. Work Guy never asked if I was ok.