The doctor told me getting in shape would 'improve sperm flow'. So here I am, after choking down a shitty green smoothie, pedaling uphill on my rusty old bike. I didn't trust how the bike rocked and whined under my weight. It felt like the thing might give out before I did. The shorts didn't help, they were riding up my ass and the built-in padding only made it look like I had a potato in the back. Erica demanded I wear a helmet. The only one we had was her highschool one. Decorated pink with purple butterflies and most of the shiny stones gone. I'm sure the cars driving by were getting a kick out of seeing me. This shirt I got was too tight, it made me look fat. Didn't Erica say something about how beer makes men look pregnant? Note to self: lay off the beer. God, I hope nobody from the office sees me like this. Huffing and puffing like the elderly big bad wolf trying to make it to the top. Everything burned, but I kept reminding myself; this is for Erica.
As I slowly worked up the hill, sweat in my eyes, I could smell fresh cut grass. Was it really only a handful of years ago I was riding around town on this bike with Charlie in the baby carrier? He squealed every time we turned, the sun flashing off his tiny sunglasses. Hard to believe my brother is already twenty-three. Holding down a job at the local drive-through. He still crashes here sometimes, drinking my beers, watching tv. We retell the same old stories- like the time I fell asleep on the couch watching him and he sucked on my big toe. Because baby logic. The same baby logic that Erica and I would be dealing with once we had our own kid. Erica always dreamed of a family. Sure she enjoys her job selling that makeup stuff but her heart was always with kids. And damnit if I wasn't going to give it to her.
As I made it to the top I remembered gravity. Thank God for that gift! All I had to do was let go and it would be all down hill from here. As I sped down the hill, the wind and bugs stung my face. I let go of the handle bars waving gently. I closed my eyes and pretended I was at home on the couch with Erica, her feet on my lap, the tv playing one of those terrible love shows she loved. I thought: this is what I'm doing it for- her laugh, the way she falls asleep halfway through a show. Our someday kid snoring in the next room. I didn't see the four way stop. I didn't see the light turn red. I definitely didn't see the woman in her mini van. Arguing with her kids. Yelling at them to quit fighting and share whatever new toy had their interest. When she hit me I joined the collection of dead bugs on the grill of her car.