Something triggered Wallace’s motion sensor doorbell and caused him to jump in the middle of heating up his microwave dinner. For a moment, he thought it was Edgar, but then the realization that it could never be him set in and he ran outside in anger. Someone must be playing pranks on him.
It was a bike. Wallace glared at it.
The neighborhood kids across the street stared while passing whispers. He ignored them and tried to push the bike away, but the gears were locked. Must have been one of those fancy electric bikes that people rented because apparently, people didn’t like owning anymore. Too many things to take care of.
He picked it up, staggering with shock at how heavy it was, and moved it to the sidewalk in four waddles. The kids continued to stare as he put the contraption down.
“What are you looking at?” he yelled, throwing his hands up. The kids scattered.
It wasn’t until they were gone, that he stopped and stared at his door. He’d gotten mad again.
That’s how it was now. Edgar had smoothed down Wallace’s spiky bits, as their daughter liked to joke. With him gone, Wallace was nothing but fury.
While Wallace was working in the garden the next morning, the bike came barreling down the hill with speed that reminded him of the times Edgar would run—legs pumping with his head tilted back in laughter.
Wallace just barely noticed it—his peripheral wasn’t what it used to be—as he weeded. But when he did, he dove out of the way, cracking his back in the process. It didn’t matter though, the bike stopped before him and twisted its handles.
Wallace stared, daring it to move again. When nothing happened, he walked into the middle of the road and tried to see beyond the hill. If someone had pushed it, they were long gone now.
He shuffled back to his garden. He didn’t want visitors, bike or human.
“Go away,” Wallace yelled.
In response, the bike toppled over, handles knocking over the cage holding Edgar’s tomatoes.
Wallace brought the problem up with the HOA.
“People keep leaving bikes around without permission,” he said. “It’s become a major issue.”
The four people in attendance nodded, but Wallace knew they were just biding their time, waiting for him to die too.
One of the four—a tall man who always wore suits—glanced at the others and stood up with a sigh. He put his hand on Wallace’s shoulder in a way that was supposed to be comforting. It wasn’t.
“Mr. Grates, I realize you’re going through a lot right now. You must be lonely if you’ve come all the way here to complain about… bikes.”
“Electric bikes,” Wallace corrected.
“Mm,” the man mused. “Yes. Bikes that are good for the environment.”
“Bikes are already good for the environment!”
The man looked between Wallace and the other three people. Then he patted Wallace’s shoulder a little too hard.
“You know what, we’ll look into it. Thank you for bringing this up to us,” the man said with a tight smile.
On the walk back to his house, Wallace tried to stop himself from thinking about Edgar. Normally, when they went to HOA meetings, Edgar would write him notes as though they were kids in class. He was always good at making Wallace feel young.
The trees rustled in the wind, but devoid of the extra jacket Edgar always had, Wallace shivered. He was never good at remembering to think ahead.
That’s when he noticed the small hum of electricity behind him.
Knowing what it was, Wallace tried to not turn around, tried to ignore it. But then the bike sped up until it was right next to him, teetering on the edge of the sidewalk, obstructing the golden-caked windows of happy families living their lives, with each other, full of community and love.
“Go away,” he mumbled, not sure if he wanted to be alone or not.
The bike kept moving at the same pace as him, pedals rotating against the obnoxious green metal.
“Leave,” he said, stopping. It stopped too, tilted its handlebars just in the way Edgar used to tilt his head.
Wallace took a quick breath to stop the tears. All he had to do was get home, get inside, and then he could grieve.
He ran down the hill, leaving the bike at the top. As he did, images of his life barreled into his consciousness. Edgar and him meeting for the first time in college in the bicycling club. Edgar proposing. Wallace pulling a ring out of his pocket too. Dancing around the kitchen while they made a homemade meal. Going on hikes, or just watching a movie. Every day was a spectacular adventure with Edgar.
When was the last time Wallace made his life an adventure? The last time he had more than a microwave meal, did more than just work in his garden?
Wallace stopped and put his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. The world spun, but his mind felt clearer than it had since Edgar’s death.
He stood up and turned around to see the bike at the top of the hill, as though it was waiting for him to be ready.
“Well,” Wallace said. “Come on then.”
The handlebars swerved back and forth and the bike zoomed forward. It stopped right in front of him with a tire squeal. Wallace found himself laughing suddenly, as though a bubble had popped in his soul.
“I’m not as young as you think,” he said, grabbing the handlebars. “You’ll have to go easy on me. It’s been a while…”
The bike stayed steady as Wallace carefully got on. Then, as soon as his feet were secured on the pedals, it took off.
The houses zoomed behind them, and Wallace smiled, crying in the wind. He could feel Edgar, in his heart, laughing along with him.
About the author:
Camden Rose is a queer author who loves seeking out magic beneath the everyday world. She can often be found at the ocean’s edge taking notes on the local mermaid population. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her spouse, black cats, and collection of books and board games. You can find her online at www.camdenscorner.com.
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