Bike Ride

"What do you want to do today?" I shouted from the bathroom.

The steam leaked out as I opened the shower door and wrapped a towel around me. I stood still for a moment with my eyes closed, listening to the gentle hum of the morning and enjoying the tingle of the cool air against my still-wet skin. I still had to dry my hair and get dressed, but I was eager to start our day and hurried to get ready. Work worries and arguments had been the theme of the last few months since the virus, and it had all put a strain on our relationship. Ever since life had returned to normal and we had begun working from the office again, we hardly saw each other. And I missed you. I couldn't remember the last time we had spent the whole day together and the excitement filled my heart with joy.

“Let’s go for a bike ride?” I heard your muffled suggestion from another room.

Perhaps you were in the kitchen? The bathroom door was cracked open and I thought I could see your shadow resting on the hallway tiles.

A bike ride was a great idea! Nothing better to do on a sunny spring day than spend it riding around the country paths not too far from home. A peacock often roamed around the gardens of a farmhouse and I was excited by the prospect of seeing it.

I had always loved animals and nature. You, not so much. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the animals but you were too sensitive and avoided the prospect of hurt by not looking for emotional attachments in fluffy creatures that might die and abandon you. So, I wasn’t exactly surprised when you didn’t respond to my childlike and enthusiastic ramblings about the peacock (and the farm kittens, and the chickens, and the horses). Selective hearing and choosing not to answer were your speciality.

A little later, with water and snacks in our backpacks, we got the bikes from the garage and headed out. We were lucky to live just a 10-minute ride before the apartment buildings gave way to green fields and farmland. It is something quite enchanting, this balance on the edge of the rural, in the middle of what felt like 2 different worlds. And, even though things were normal again, I still preferred the wide open spaces that the country offered. The prospect of wandering around a crowded city centre sent my anxious mind into overdrive. And I know you felt the same, too.

I let you ride behind me as we cycled lazily along the country path, soaking up the beauty of our surroundings – green fields filled with corn and wheat and hope of better days. I saw some chickens clucking and pecking at each other at the bottom of a driveway, and was wondering if the peacock would be up ahead, when, lying on the path in front of me, I saw a cat. Its fur was mangled and soaked with blood, but its body was still twitching and moving so I knew it wasn’t dead.

I stopped sharply in front of the cat, dropping my bike so I could help, my vet instincts taking over.

“Come here and give me your pullover,” I called over to you, emotion creeping into my voice, “we need to take her to the clinic, she might make it if we hurry.”

Right at that moment, someone passed by in the opposite direction. They looked puzzled at what I was doing, kneeling in the middle of the path, alone but for an almost-dead cat under the wheels of my bike.