It's all about the bike - Jenny 56

 

[For a quick guide go here: Quick guide.]

[There's some back story here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and read more recent Jenny episodes maybe this one.]

[Other back story through in-links.]

“I know you find this hard to believe, but it’s just a bike. It’s not a massive sign of badness in the universe or people not liking you or your inability to form lasting relationships…”

“What?!!”

“It’s just a bike. Two wheels, chain, gears, pedal it, go fast, have fun.”

“So you don’t want it then?”

Claire sighed. It had been ages since she’d seen Jenny and she didn’t particularly want to see her now - at least not like this. She’d like to see her as they were both storming it through the countryside, neck and neck haring down the side of some country hill, daring each other to go faster in the face of a possible oncoming juggernaut. Or there again she could help her with that ridiculously stupidly blocked drain she tackled this morning.

“I’m not saying that,” she said. “I’m saying it’s yours and you should ride it.”

“Don’t want to,” said Jenny.

“Then sell it,” she Claire. “For money. And buy the bike you like. Or anything you like.”

“Couldn’t sell it,” said Jenny. “I tried. I even got a buyer but I told them not to bother. I don’t want the money. That’s why I wanted to give it away. Done and dusted, and don’t need to think about it again.”

There was a pause. Claire picked up the helmet that was lying to the side of the garage floor. She threw it at Jenny who instinctively caught it.

“Get on the bike and get real,” she said. “It’ll make you feel better. A lot better.”

“I don’t need to feel better,” said Jenny. “I’m perfectly fine. And as someone who’s perfectly fine I want you to have the bike. Or at least take it away.”

Jenny knew her logic was flawed. Even as she stood there encouraging Claire to take the bike away she realised she’d still see it if she (ever) went on a bike trip with the club. Claire had been skeptical about using it, arguing that something this high spec really wasn’t her style. It was a little wasted on her, she said, whereas she knew Jenny has history. Given the right circumstances and the right opposition this piece of kit would be stretched to the limit by its rider.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” said Claire. “We all are.”

“We?” wondered Jenny.

“The bike club.”

“Right, well, word gets around, doesn’t it?”

“Someone saw Izzy last weekend,” said Claire. “Before the Sunday ride. Are you OK? Do you need anything?”

“I need you to take the bike away.”

Jenny felt close to tears, but equally didn’t want to show it. She had hoped the transaction would be over by now, but who was she kidding? Izzy had left abruptly, leaving all kinds of things for her to deal with. Multiple small bombs she’d stumble across to remind her of what she’d lost, together with the uphill task of resetting her life and either plugging the gaps or skating over the spaces Izzy had left. It wasn’t easy. No day was easy.

Claire rolled the bike onto the bike treadmill in the garage and mounted the seat. In a few minutes she was ploughing away at the pedals, watching the speedometer tick upwards and feeling the flow of the slick pedal system. Jenny heard the whistle through the wheels and the click has the gears moved up and Claire went faster.

“Alright,” she said. “Alright.”

She didn’t go far. She didn’t really need to go far. Between the need to do more things around the house, wait for the kids to come home there was barely an hour for her to escape, but that’s what she did. Claire set the pace initially but it wasn’t long before Jenny’s enthusiasm kicked in and she pulled away. Claire peeled off and headed back into town as Jenny went further and faster.

Back in the garage she looked at the bike. It was a fantastic machine, but she still had reservations about it. Without really thinking her eyes alighted on a range of spray paint cans arranged on one of the shelves, left overs from her and Helen’s artistic escapades. She took one of them, a deep shade of blue, and carefully sprayed the handle bars and down the main part of the bike frame. It was a rough job and the paint dripped haphazardly, but she’d made her point. The market value of the bike had just decreased, and the value for Jenny had risen.

This kids came home and decompressed in front of their screens and in their rooms. Jenny made tea and tidied as she went. At the usual time they sat down and ate together.

“You’re looking happy, mum,” said Peter.

“Thank you,” said Jenny. And deep inside she thought she was.