Little Yellow Mountain Bike

“Oh, look!” Beth exclaimed.  “Someone forgot his adorable little toy bike!”  Beth was our Yoga instructor and I disliked her a great deal. From her rancid breath to the fact that she had no sense of personal boundaries, I found nearly everything about her offensive. We’d walked to the park that morning rather than doing yoga and I’d made friends with a park bench and sat down. One of the other residents joined me. The sun was out and it was a beautiful summer morning.

I balanced the tiny bike between two bench boards so it wouldn’t topple over.  The woman sitting next to me warned Beth as she approached, “Don’t ask if you can see her little bike.   Jennifer won’t share.”  This was true.  Several women had already asked about the tiny bike and I wouldn’t let anyone hold it.

Beth ignored the woman and leaned over to get a closer look.  As she did, I snatched the bike right out from under her nose and put it back in my jacket pocket.  She looked up, startled, and leaned back.  A handful of women watched. “Told you,” my bench partner said, knowingly.”  I tried not to grin.

“Oh, it’s so cute and little,” Beth sang.  “It looks so well made.  Can I see it?”  She asked me. 

“No.”  I answered

“No?  Why not?”  She asked.

“Because.” 

“Is it yours?”  She countered.

“No.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  I was enjoying this.  She made it so easy.

“Why can’t I see it?”

“Because.”

“Because why?

“Because I said so.”

Dumb Bitch, I thought. Something about that exchange felt so cathartic.  Without another word, I walked over to the women on the swing set to mark the end of the conversation.

~ ~ ~

The above is an excerpt from my memoir, SATURATION.

Published by Jennifer

I've finally found my happy place in sobriety. Yay! Go Me!

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