My First Bike
“God dammit” my mother cursed as she brought the car to a stop on the shoulder of the street. My brother just stirs around while I jump up startled and confused as to where we’re at and more importantly why. “What happened Mom? Why are we here? Where are we going?” I asked rapidly at the exact same moment she was about to lay her head on the steering wheel, startling her as well. She thought I didn’t catch it but I saw her quick motion to wipe the tear that had already run down her cheek. “ What are doing up baby? Oh what am I saying? Wake up your brother please, we have to get to walking. The car has run out of gas.” Her words trailed behind her as she was already headed towards the trunk. The night was a bit chilly so she grabbed a couple old sweaters she had been able to get off a friend of hers before we had taken off. “Where are we going?” I asked again hoping her answer would help the sudden overwhelming feeling of fear that coursed through my body as I look around at the very dark night and take in the sounds of the different night crawlers that were abroad. “ Someplace safe baby!” she said with the most reassuring voice she could make. With that she takes our hands in hers and off we go.
We hadn’t walked very long when we came up to a place with a sign. “Hey look Mom. That sign says church on it.” I said, thankful that God had blessed me with incredible talent. Just a little after I turned two, I had discovered I was able to say the alphabet, put letters together and well read a little bit. My mother was a Mexican national and did not know English and my brother well was very slow, so neither of them would have known what the sign said. With a surge of hope my mom tightens her grip on us and makes a speedy dash towards the front door of the church. It spooked me because all the churches I had seen had pointy rooftops and a cross. This one had neither and well it was a house.
My mom knocked on the door frantically. Her face held an even bigger expression of hope as we heard footsteps heading our way. A young woman opens the door and asks how she can help us. My mom quickly puts us in front of her and says how we are just 3 and 4 years old and that we are cold. She relates the story as to why we’re at her doorstep and if she could please get us somewhere safe. That was the second time I heard her saying those words. For the first time that night I thought of my father and why HE was not around to take us somewhere safe like my mom wanted. I thought that was what he was supposed to do. The woman tells my mom how regretful she is but that that is not a church and that she couldn’t help us but that she was more than glad to take us where they could help us. We waited at the front porch for a few minutes while she retrieved her coat and car keys. I look out the window up at the moon as we’re driving off, never thinking we were going where we ended up.
There were other kids and women in the building. Two women and three children occupied the room where we were going to stay from now on, which I could tell was not going to be pleasant because it looked crowded as it was. “Mom! Why are we here?” I asked with the saddest expression that I could produce. “Its okay baby. We are safe here.” She reassured me. “Where is dad?” the question came completely out of the blue from my brother. My mom looked at him, and then at me and instead of answering she sends us to the bathroom to brush our teeth so we could go to sleep. We had been taught or should I say trained not to further push issues. So we didn’t ask about him again.
I really don’t know how much time had passed since the night we got there but I definitely did not want to be there any more. My brother and I would play in the same boring, ugly playground every single day. All it had was an old squeaky swing set that could topple on top of us at any time and a big hill of dirt. I honestly do not know why but yeah a dirt hill. We always joked about how we would one day jump over the long wooden fence that surrounded the place and escape to a free and happy life. We would secretly share ideas on how to get dad to come take us with him.
I guess God heard our prayers; my dad showed up the next day.
My brother and I were doing the usual, in the playground dreaming away when we both caught a glimpse of something big and yellow pass alongside the fence. We never really saw vehicles, well we never really saw much of anything or anyone for that matter, pass by that driveway, so we got very excited. I beat him to the part of the fence where there was a big hole, so I get to peek through it first. As soon as I got my eye to focus through the small hole I recognize the truck. It was my uncle Joe’s truck. In the bed, standing upright and shining, are two beautiful yellow bikes. One seems to be bigger than the other. I let my brother take a look while I try to think of what my uncle could be doing there and with two bikes in the bed. “DAD!” yelled my brother. I turned to look at him to see if he was lying. His expression was of full happiness. I don’t know if it was because my father was there or because he had put two and two together and realized the bikes were for us. Before I could have any negative thoughts of what’s going on, he took my hand and rushed us inside, screaming for our mother.
She was not in our room, so we head out to the front to see our father where he was already there with the bikes by his side. Instead of hugging us and telling us how much he missed and loves us, like I had dreamed for many nights, he just handed us the bikes and asked for mom. Since we are so young and don’t know any better, we don’t mind and grab hold of our bikes. “Dad. Are you going to teach me how to ride it?” I asked hoping his answer would be yes unlike many times before. “Yes,” he said as he turned to face my mother who had the most astonished look on her face. She quickly reverted to changing it as she catches me studying her face. I suspected she wasn’t too happy to see him. At that very moment my brother says he’ll race me even though I didn’t know how to ride a bike. So I turn to play with him while my dad walked over to my mom and they start talking.
“Look at them. They look so happy. If I go, the bikes go with me,” he told my mother very coldly. My mom turned and saw how happy we looked and how it didn’t seem that we had just spent the four long months in that shelter that we had, doing nothing but moping around. “You’ll break their hearts. “I promise this time it’s going to be different,” he told my mother with the most sincere, fakest smile he could generate. And with that my mom gave in and agreed to go back home with him.
We don’t have much stuff so it didn’t take us long to get everything up on the truck. My brother and I are running back and forth excited and happy that we were finally going home. Being the age that we are we have many, many questions that we start to ask our father when we start getting into the truck. Of course he is ignoring us by now and when we drive off I ask him, “Daddy are you going to show me how to ride MY FIRST BIKE!” Of all he could say he said, “ Just sit there and shut up till we get home and we’ll see!” I turned to look at my mother as she makes the same quick motion she had four months ago and I finally realized what she meant by somewhere safe. L
I know most of you are probably feeling bad for me, but I suggest you don’t. This happened to me a very long time ago and I thank God I am okay now. What I want you to do is take this story and use it as a tool to make someone’s first bike experience unforgettable, but in a positive way, unlike mine. If you don’t know anyone who would be very happy to own a bicycle, I’m sure you can find someone who will. There are many unfortunate men, women and children out there who would love to own a bike. Also if you know anyone who could really use an inspirational story feel free to share this one. I want to thank you for taking the time to read the story and this brief message. See you at my blog soon.
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Good story, I just hope that people learn to break the cycle of the past.