Cycling to Asylum Read online

Daddy had said we’d play a game when we got home. But now Mommy says no. She says Daddy has to take a nap instead. I was hoping Daddy would argue but instead he asks if I want to nap with him. I’m too old for taking naps but Mommy says she’ll lay down with us and tell a story. That settles it. I lay down between Mommy and Daddy, at least to listen to the story.

  Mommy tells us about the Bicycling Family. There’s something different about it, though. Like it’s more real or something. Daddy’s smiling, with me snuggled next to him. His eyes keep closing and opening again. He looks less bad lying down, just tired. I’m almost falling asleep too when I hear Mommy ask me something.

  “What’d you say?” I ask.

  “Do you think you’d like to go on a real Bicycling Family adventure?”

  “For real?”

  “Yes, for real.”

  “Where to?”

  “Well, first you’ll visit Grandma and Grandpa and then we’ll take the train to Siri’s camp. When we’re all together, we’ll continue north.”

  “Where exactly?”

  “Daddy will have to show you on the map. He’s in charge of the route.”

  “Like Ocean in the Bicycling Family.” I look at Daddy. His eyes are open, watching me.

  “Yes, like Ocean,” Daddy says. “Do you want me to show you on a map, Simon?”

  “Yes, please!”

  “OK, but not now,” Mommy says. “Daddy needs to sleep. We’ll talk about it more later.”

  “Are we really for real going to go?” I ask.

  “Do you want to, Simon? Do you like this idea?” Daddy asks me.

  “Oh yes, oh yes!” It’s like a dream come true.

  Daddy smiles a big smile and suddenly he doesn’t look so hurt anymore. “Good. Then I guess that’s settled.”

  Daddy turns on his side carefully, putting his arm around me. Even though I didn’t mean to, I end up falling asleep too. When I wake up, Mommy’s on the other side of me. She puts her fingers to her lips and makes a motion to follow her. We go into the kitchen.

  “Do you want to help me make some cookies for Daddy?” she asks.

  “Yes! Can I lick the batter?”

  “Sure, if you really help, you can.”

  Daddy comes out of the bedroom as the cookies are coming out of the oven. He’s not wearing a shirt so I look to see if there are any broken parts of him showing. He looks pretty normal. Even though he’s skinnier, he still has his muscles and stuff. He rubs his tummy.

  “You sure you slept enough, Laek? You know what the doctor said.”

  “How can I sleep with those delicious smells floating into the bedroom?”

  “Well, if you want any of these cookies that Simon and I made, put a shirt on. You could catch a chill that way.”

  “Janie, it’s gotta be ninety degrees in this apartment, especially with the oven on.”

  Mommy just looks at him so he goes back into the bedroom and comes out wearing his old red Occupy t-shirt. If it were me, I would even put on a sweater if it meant Mommy wouldn’t let me have cookies otherwise.

  Daddy and I each have four cookies and a huge glass of milk.

  “You have a milk mustache, Simon,” he tells me.

  “You have a real mustache, Daddy.”

  “That reminds me, Laek. I need to give you a haircut and a shave. Are you ready?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  During the haircut, I get bored. “I thought we were going to play a game,” I say.

  “We are. We’re playing barbershop,” Mommy says.

  “You and Daddy are maybe. I’m not playing anything. I want a haircut like Daddy’s.”

  “OK, monsieur,” Mommy says to me. “You’re next.”

  “Missyer?”

  “It’s French, Simon,” Daddy says. “That’s what they speak in Quebec.”

  “But what does it mean?”

  “Mister, or sir. It’s like señor in Spanish.”

  After Mommy cuts my hair, me and Daddy look at ourselves in the mirror. We look alike. He looks younger than before and I look older. And he looks less messed-up than before too.

  “Ready for a game?’ Daddy asks me.

  “Yes!”

  “What’ll it be? Geography? Prism? Class War? Chess? Analogue?”

  “Scrabble!” I tell him.

  After Scrabble, we eat dinner and watch a screen show about animals of the north. I’m so happy that Daddy is finally home and now there’s our adventure to think about.

  “Hey, when are we leaving on our bike trip, Daddy?”

  “In two weeks.”

  I wonder if this will be enough time for me to find and kill that cop. Probably not. I guess I can do it when we get back. It’s not like it’s an emergency or anything, with Daddy finally getting better. Yeah, it can wait till we get back.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Laek

  “Get your sorry ass over here and taste this chili,” I say to Philip as soon as he walks into the apartment. I’m wearing a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, an apron over it. Nothing like bubbling tomato sauce to make it look like there’s been a massacre in the kitchen.

  Philip comes over. I shove the spoon into his mouth.

  “Whoa, hot!”

  “I blew on it.”

  “Not that kind of hot—spicy.”

  “You like it?”

  “Sure. I love food with a kick. Speaking of which, I brought you two something.”

  “Something recycled?” Janie asks, taking the scratched, thick-glassed bottle from him.

  “You could say that. It’s home brew. Is it OK for …?” He indicates me with his chin, speaking directly to Janie like I can’t be trusted to decide for myself.

  “For fuck’s sake, I can have a little drink. Look at you two mother hens.” I stir the chili and add more dried red chili pepper when they’re not looking.

  Janie takes three small glasses down from the shelf. Philip pours about an inch of clear liquid with a slight yellow tint into each of them. I down mine.

  “What is it, urine?” I say.

  Janie chokes, holding in a laugh.

  “Well, I’ll just bring it back home if you don’t like it,” Philip says.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I grab the bottle and refill our glasses.

  “Nice haircut.” Philip musses my hair.

  Janie answers. “Thanks, Philip, I cut it myself.”

  “Oh yeah? A woman of many talents.”

  “It makes me look about twelve years old,” I complain.

  “An innocent look is not the worst thing when you’re trying to cross a national border.” Philip punctuates this statement by swallowing down his second glass like medicine. The conversation stops dead in its tracks.

  “Listen, I can finish up in the kitchen while you two hang out,” Janie offers. “Why don’t you go into the bedroom where you can have some privacy?”

  “What are we eating?” Philip asks, lifting up pot lids.

  “Aside from Laek’s chili, there’ll be collards, rice and peas, sweet potato soup, even homemade cornbread.”

  “That sounds amazing.” Phil sneaks another taste of chili. “Whoa! Still adding spices?”

  I pick up the spoon and mix some more.

  “Gimme that.” Janie takes the spoon out of my hand. Reaches around my waist to untie the apron. I kiss her while her hands are busy, trying to undo the knot.

  “Why did you knot this instead of tying it in a bow?”

  “So I could mess with you while you were busy with the knot.” I try to bite her.

  She turns me around and gets it untied. Then smacks me on the ass with it.

  “Go. Out of the kitchen.”

  I walk into the bedroom. Philip follows me. I close the door behind him.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna stand. All those weeks laid up in bed …”

  “I’ll stand too, then.”

  Philip leans against the wall by the bedroom door. I walk to the window on the opposite wall. “T
hanks for visiting me in the hospital. I know it wasn’t much fun. But it made a big difference. I felt like I was going crazy in there sometimes.”

  “No problem. But how are you doing now?”

  “Good. Fine. I mean, I’m still sore, but getting better every day.”

  “How about the other stuff? Anxiety? Um, depression?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Insomnia? Panic attacks?”

  “How about rage? Like if you don’t stop asking me these questions, I’ll strangle you.”

  “Sorry. Just checking.”

  “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I’ll admit I still get nightmares, but I’m fine.”

  “OK, good.”

  “So Phil, I guess you’ve been in touch with Erin.”

  “She asks about you all the time.”

  “What do you tell her?”

  “That it’s been a hard recovery but that you’re doing better now. Of course she wonders why you don’t call and why she can’t see you.”

  “How much does she know about what happened?” I ask.

  “Enough to tell me that she wouldn’t bring Chris. But of course, Chris tried to help.”

  “I know, but somehow that only complicates things. Especially since I didn’t … I couldn’t take his warning. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Erin might understand if you gave her a chance.”

  “She might, but I still couldn’t tell her about our plans.”

  “No, I can see that,” Philip concedes.

  “I don’t want to have to hide things from her. I don’t have the strength right now. It’s just about killing me that I can’t say good-bye to my friends. You’re the only one who knows. You and Janie’s friend Magda. I guess you’ll have to stand in for everyone. Think you can handle that?”

  “Sure. The thing that’s hard to handle …” Philip chews on his lip, looks down. “Just the thought of going back to school in the fall without you there. Listen, Laek, I need to tell you …”

  “No you don’t. You don’t need to tell me anything.”

  “I think I do. Really.”

  “You don’t. Trust me.” I walk towards him.

  “But …”

  “How’s this,” I say. “A bet. If I can show you I understand, you have to promise to come to Montreal with Kyla. But if I’m wrong, then I have to come back to New York and visit you.”

  “Come back to New York? Are you crazy? How could you even consider that! I mean …”

  I push him hard against the wall. Start kissing him. I keep it going for a good, long while, sliding my hands under his shirt and pulling him in close. It’s not until he’s shaking so badly that I feel sorry for him that I finally let go. I reach over and trace his upper lip with my index finger.

  “I win,” I say, smiling triumphantly.

  “Yeah.” His face seems flushed and he’s breathing hard. I think he’s still trembling. “Yeah, you absolutely win. But listen, Laek, do me a favor. Don’t talk right now. Maybe … uh … go over there, to the other side of the room. I need to sit down for a few minutes.”

  “Whatever you say.” I walk to the bed, but can’t keep myself from laughing. The look on his face! I haven’t had this much fun in a while. And I don’t think I’ve ever won a bet so easily.

  “Please, Laek. Shh! Have pity.”

  “OK, OK.” I pick up Janie’s screen. Open up the French learning program she loaded for me. Put the earpiece in. I’ve already reached a conversational level of French from the studying I did in the hospital. Right now, I don’t have the head for thinking about words or grammar. I close my eyes. Absorb the sound and rhythm of the language, the regional accent. The rises and falls remind me of mountains. The smooth liaisons of streams. It makes me think of our bike trip to Quebec. The thought is bittersweet.

  After about five minutes have passed, I look over at Philip. He’s sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. He seems calmer and his face has returned to its normal color.

  “Can I come back now?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  I sit down beside him on the floor. He turns to me.

  “I’ll find a way to come to Montreal even if I have to kidnap my own child.”

  “There must be another way to come over with Kyla. You’ll think of something. Ask Janie to help if there’s legal stuff.”

  “Janie?”

  “Yeah, Janie. You remember her. My partner? The lawyer? The one who said, ‘Why don’t you guys go into the bedroom where you can have some privacy?’ That Janie.”

  “Yes, understood. Absolutely.”

  “Listen, don’t worry about all that right now. Just be here with me.”

  “OK.” Phil puts his arm around my shoulder. I lean into him and he tries to pull me closer. I change position so I’m sitting with my back in front of him. He wraps the hand that was resting on my shoulder gently around my chest.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No. Hold me tighter.”

  He pulls me in closer as I lean back against him. I’m struggling to take my own advice. To not think about anything but the present moment. But my mind is flying backwards, remembering the night of the prom. I see myself standing under the night sky, leaning against Philip, and later, talking with him and Erin with my arms around their shoulders. Then I see Al and relive the whole stream of violent events that led up to and then flowed from that night.

  “Tighter,” I say. I’m thinking of next fall now. Of my school and Philip and Erin and all my other friends, going about their lives without me. What will I be doing? A refugee, maybe in hiding. No job, an uncertain future. How can I be dragging my family into this, uprooting them from their home? And Siri, at camp, innocent of everything that’s happened this summer.

  “Tighter. As tight as you can and don’t let go.”

  He wraps both of his arms around me, enfolding me in his strong embrace. I’m conscious of his fingers on the bare skin of my shoulders, his forearm across my chest, my back snug against him. I close my eyes, fixing myself firmly to these physical sensations, past and future slipping away from my thoughts. I relax into that one continuous present moment: now, and now, and now. Nothing exists but the tightness of his grip, the warmth of him against my back. We stay this way, without moving or talking, for a timeless interval ….

  Janie calls us to supper. Philip presses his face gently against mine. Then releases me. We stand. Time starts moving forward again. I can tell from the bleak look on his face that Philip feels as I do. Yeah, this was good-bye. The rest of the evening will be a drawn-out process of moving away from each other. I feel the sadness expand up into my throat, but I don’t cry.

  I don’t cry at supper either, as I watch Philip swallow his favorite foods like they were broken glass. And I don’t cry after he’s washed and dried every single one of our dishes, pots and pans. Even when I see him biting his lower lip like he does when he’s upset, looking desolate as he searches the kitchen for something else he can wash, just to prolong his time with us. I don’t even cry at the door when we cling to each other and I feel his hot, silent tears and the way he’s trembling, not with pleasure this time but with pain.

  It’s when my face is pressed to the window glass, watching Philip disappear around the corner, that Janie starts crying, and this is what finally makes me let loose my own tears. I cry so long and so hard that I have to lie down on my side, holding my ribs against the racking pain. But it’s nothing to the pain in my heart.

  *

  In the morning, I do a quick survey of my physical and mental state. Like I’ve done every morning since the day in the hospital when I decided I wanted to live. My ribs aren’t any worse, despite my long crying jag. I feel rested. I’m not particularly anxious or depressed. I slip out of Janie’s arms and out of bed. Recover her with the sheet. I stand by the window in the living room. The sun is rising.

  I feel a cautious optimism this morning. I carefully let myself think of the friends we’re leaving. Re
member different moments with each of them. Some of this makes me smile.

  As the sun begins to light the streets of Brooklyn, I’m thinking of the kids. My heart lifts when I remember Simon’s excitement in the bicycling adventure we’ve planned, Siri’s pride and pleasure when she learned we’ll all be there for the end-of-summer game at her camp. I can see a sunny path stretched out before us, our bikes rolling down it, our shadows weaving and playing with each other. And Janie at my side, full of life and love, beautiful and clever and good.

  Then I think about leaving Philip, like a tongue searching out a sore tooth. What comes to mind is his solidity and strength. The calm determination on his face when he made his promise. The depth of his love and courage. Whatever ends up happening, it will be alright somehow. I find I actually believe this.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Janie

  Our last night in Brooklyn, I’m prowling from room to room, checking that everything’s in order and reviewing our plans for the umpteenth time. Our bags are all packed—two overstuffed panniers for each of us, mostly containing clothes, with the extra pair of sandals, multi-purpose jacket, and rain gear on top. The sleeping bags I just bought, expensive but worth it for their lightness and durability, can be fastened to our racks. Despite his injury, Laek will carry the heaviest load—both tents as well as an assortment of tools, bike parts, and other items, in case of a breakdown on the road. As for me, I carry what’s needed to prevent human breakdown—first-aid supplies, including emergency medication for Laek, extra sun block, snacks, chocolate, and energy drinks to supplement our water bottles. And my ukelele.

  We’ll take the train to Albany where Simon’s waiting for us, visiting with my parents, and from there, another train to Siri’s camp. For once, I’m grateful that Mom and Dad have a big car, able to take Simon’s bike, four of the stuffed panniers, and all the kids’ extra clothes. Simon didn’t even notice I’d emptied their drawers, excited by the trip, but bored by laundry and packing. My parents will have to make a few trips to collect the rest of our things and store them in their house. Later, if all goes well, they’ll gradually bring them across the border.

  Much will have to be left, of course. Hopefully, some of the larger items of furniture can be sold. Magda agreed to handle this. I’ve written out detailed instructions to both her and my parents, with real pen on paper, like in some cloak-and-dagger drama. I find myself talking and writing in thinly disguised code and euphemisms, referring to our “grand adventure,” the “delivery of packages,” “crossing the line,” “green mountain country” and, of course, “New Metropolis.” I feel cool and calculating, clear-headed and methodical, and deeply superstitious, all at once.