“It’s going well. Except…” Abby paused to yawn enormously, stretching her arms over her head, feeling how glad her body was to be prone and not upright, leaning over the handlebars. “My mother’s here. She showed up at the bike shop this morning. I almost had a heart attack.”
“Ah,” said Mark. Abby knew that “ah.” Her heart sank.
“You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, right?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
Mark paused. Abby felt her anger gathering. “She really wants to spend time with you. That’s what she told me, and I believed her. She seemed very sincere.”
“So you…” Abby’s brain was fizzing. “You told her about the trip? You got her a bike?”
“Lizzie helped with that part.” Mark paused. “Your mother told me that she’d taken a trip with Marni, right before she got married, and that she went somewhere with Simon after he finished college, and that she never took a trip with you.”
“She never took a trip with me because every place she wanted to take me was some version of a fat farm.” Over the years, Eileen had pitched these trips with words like “wellness retreat” or “mindful reset,” “detox” or “cleanse.” Five days doing yoga in Tulum! A spa week at Canyon Ranch in Arizona! A hiking trip in Ireland! All of Eileen’s proposals had two things in common: lots of physical activity and healthy （translation: low-fat, low-carb, low-calorie） meals. Her last offer, Abby recalled, had involved a spa in California that was famous for its coffee colonics.
“Is she being awful?” Mark asked.
Abby took a deep breath, preparing to list Eileen’s depredations. She called up the picture of her mother, riding alongside her. That had been… not awful. Not good, but at least, not awful. When they’d stopped for lunch and, then, at dinner, Eileen hadn’t said a single word about anything on Abby’s plate. Abby could feel her mother’s scrutiny and judgment, but maybe that was her own interpretation, seeing what she expected to see, after all those bad years. She’s trying, Abby realized. I should be grateful.
“No,” she finally said. “She isn’t being awful. I was just surprised.” She adjusted the pillows. “And it’s stressful enough, leading my first ride, without having my mom watching everything I do. And having to watch out for her. There’s a big difference between riding a stationary bike and riding in the real world.”
“I know.” Mark’s voice was gentle. “I’m sorry if this is causing you trouble. That was the last thing I’d ever want. But, like I said, she seemed sincere. And she was very persistent.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Please don’t be mad at me,” Mark said. “Or Lizzie.” He lowered his voice. “I sent you a little treat. It should be waiting at your next hotel.”
“Oh, that was nice of you.”
“Am I forgiven?” he asked.
“Depends on how good of a treat you sent,” Abby said.
“So tell me who else is on the ride, besides Eileen?”
Abby took him through the roster: Lily and Morgan; the Presser family, the fancy Landons, the four old folks, all of whom had ridden their bikes across the country—twice, in Ted’s case. At dinner, Ted had showed pictures of himself dipping his bike’s rear wheel in the Pacific Ocean in Oregon and his front wheel in the Atlantic in Virginia. “And there’s a couple of guys about our age, but I’ve barely seen them. They’re just grinding out the miles, going as fast as they can.” Abby found herself hurrying through Sebastian and Lincoln. She didn’t want to think too hard about why.
“Well, that’s no fun.” When Abby yawned again, Mark said, “Get some rest, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He paused. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” Abby said, and tried not to dwell on what she wasn’t saying.
Sebastian
Day Two: Mount Kisco to Poughkeepsie Sixty-one miles
The alarm went off at six thirty the next morning. Sebastian groaned as he worked his way upright. His legs ached and his back felt stiff. Nothing that wouldn’t disappear once he started moving around, he thought, and rubbed his face, checking to make sure Lincoln was still in bed before heading toward the shower. “Be a dear and make me a cup of coffee?” he called. Lincoln’s hand emerged from underneath the covers to give him the finger.
When Sebastian stepped out of the bathroom, freshly shaved, with a towel around his waist, a cup of coffee was waiting for him, just as he knew one would be. The Universe loved him, and Lincoln did, too. Lincoln was sitting up in bed with his back against the headboard, peering at his phone. When he looked at Sebastian, his eyes, behind his glasses, were wide enough to show whites all the way around the iris.