“Facts,” Sebastian acknowledged.
“It’s fine to follow the seasons when you’re in your twenties, but if you want”—Abby hesitated—“kids, or a family, or a house, or any of that, it doesn’t work.”
Sebastian asked if it would be possible to earn enough money during the summer months to support herself during the year. Abby said that it was not. He asked if she’d be willing to take less-fulfilling work—dog-walking or office temping—to support herself in the nonsummer months.
“That’s fine for now. But, again, if I decide I want kids, it won’t work.”
Sebastian pedaled in silence for a moment. “What about doing something with cycling and girls?” he asked. “Like, a program just for girls. You could teach them to ride if they didn’t know how, and lead rides, and take them on trips.”
“I’d have to see what kind of programs are out there. Make sure there’s not something like this already.” It was a good idea. But the thought of building something from the ground up, figuring out what kind of permits and insurance she’d need, and if she’d have to work with a bike shop or an existing organization, and where she’d find other adults to help, and how she’d recruit the riders all left her feeling overwhelmed, crushed, and exhausted before she’d even begun.
“But you’d be great!” he said when Abby told him that. “And it could work. You could stay in one place, in Philly, or wherever.” Abby wondered if wherever meant Brooklyn, but didn’t ask. “It’d be everything you love. Biking, and…” He waved his hand. “Girl stuff. All of the feminist whatever.”
Abby raised her eyebrows. “？‘The feminist whatever’？”
“You could lead trips when it’s warm enough and have classes when it’s not. You could ask bike shops to volunteer or donate stuff.”
“I could.” Abby’s mind was turning as she wondered how it would work and whom she could ask. “Maybe. Maybe there’s a niche.” After a minute, she said, “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You took me seriously,” Abby said. “That’s important.”
“Any time,” Sebastian had said.
Abby leaned over her handlebars.
“How about you?” she asked. She made her voice mock-serious and asked, “Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“I don’t know. I like my job. But I think I’d like… I don’t know. Kids. A house. A family. Not this minute, but maybe someday,” he said as Lincoln put on a burst of speed to join them.
“I think you’d be a good father,” Abby was saying.
Abby was 90 percent positive that she’d heard Lincoln cough the word bullshit under his breath. Sebastian, meanwhile, was looking flattered. “Oh, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “You can teach your kids all about being prepared, and asking for help when they need it.”
“Hey, I got that flat changed. Eventually.”
“Mister I-don’t-need-your-tire-irons.”
“I wasn’t that bad!” Sebastian protested.
“You were,” said Ted, coasting past.
“Sorry, but it’s true,” said Sue, trailing behind Ted.
“Oh, and you can also model good behavior about listening to your leaders, and following directions and staying safe,” said Abby.
Sebastian smoothed out his vest. He’d kept his promise and had put it on for the past two mornings, without complaint. Without too much complaint, at least. The things we do for love, he’d said, as he’d pulled it on that morning. But he’d only been teasing. Of course.
“If I start a group, maybe I’ll invite you to come and teach kids how to handle it if they almost crash into a truck. We’ll call it Seething Hotly 101.”
“Seething hotly?” Sebastian repeated.
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you don’t know that’s what you were doing.” She switched into a lower gear as the path rose in a gentle hill, and felt her spine stiffen as she spotted Eileen, who’d been riding with Carol Landon.
“Hello, ladies!” Abby called, her voice hearty and cheerful-sounding. “Everything okay?”
“Lovely,” said Eileen with a tight-lipped smile. Abby’s skin prickled, and she felt a drop of sweat slide from the back of her neck to the small of her back. Did her mother know what was going on with Sebastian? Had she seen something? Figured it out somehow?