Page 1 of Lace 'em Up

One

Kingston

It’s the flash of white on the side of the road that draws my focus.

That glimpse of brightness stands out from the black pavement, damp from the afternoon rain.

It contrasts with the green shooting off in every direction on either side of the winding road—the dry, brown rolling hills of summer transformed into something that’s lush and beautiful and sandwiching me in peaceful oblivion.

Except for that bright white.

Trash maybe—bags or a mattress dumped by some asshole.

Or maybe an animal of some sort?

A dog or a horse or a cow?

It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise, not amongst these small, local farms and isolated plots of land that aren’t found in other parts of the Bay Area. Fences give way, barbed wire breaks, and…

The white object moves again.

Animals get out.

I slow down because, strictly speaking, I’m in violation of my contract by riding my bike. Taking it out like this—well within the speed limit, on a deserted road, the sun going down behind me and the wind in my hair, on my face—is barely cleared for off-season use.

In early November? When the season is just barely underway and an injury would be catastrophic for my game?

If anyone finds out, I’m dead.

It’s just…

Too good of a day.

I need this—one last time—before I put my bike up until the following summer.

That white moves again, and I slow down further. No crashes. No injuries. Nothing to fuck up my life and career and future?—

Except…slowing down means that I have plenty of time to see.

That the white isn’t a plastic bag caught in a bush, waving in the winds.

And it’s not a cow or a horse or a dog.

It’s a person.

A woman in a huge, poofy white dress.

And a veil that glitters with crystals in the setting sun.

A woman with long blond curls hanging down her back?—

A woman…

Whose face I recognize.

I hit the brakes hard—too fucking hard considering the slick road—and nearly skid out. It takes far too much effort to control my bike, to wrestle it back upright, to calmly stop and put the transmission into park when I manage to do so.

I flick down the kickstand, slide one foot off to rest onto the pavement. Then I’m lifting my other leg over the seat, rounding my back tire, and hurrying over to the bride-to-be.

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