Spin

Gail’s mother gripped the sides of the recliner as if they were handlebars on a ten-speed.

“Teal’s son loves the class,” she said. “He says it’s a great burn.”

“You and Teal talk about great burns?”

“Don’t be smart,” her mother scolded. “Teal’s son met his last girlfriend in the class. A psychologist. They were in love until they broke up.”

“What happened?”

“You know professional women. No time. Too busy. Want too much.”

Gail did not appreciate the comment. She was forty-one and held a high position at a human resources firm. Many times she had gone on dates with men who seemed to lose interest in her after she spoke about her work or learned about her success.

She crouched her eyebrows with annoyance.

“Spare me. I’m a professional woman and all I want is a man who can walk and talk at the same time.”

“You should be more picky. But pick right. Like your father.”

“Dad met you where? At a bar?”

“Why so nasty today? I’m trying to help you get burned and meet a man.”

Her mother clumsily pushed out of the chair. She straightened up with random snaps from both knees.

“Anyway, I have to get ready.”

“Where are you going?”

“The senior center. A nurse is coming to give free cholesterol screenings, and then we’re having strawberry shortcake and coffee.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It passes the time.”

Her mother looked hard at Gail.

“Do me one favor and call Teal’s son. His number is on the envelope on the table. His name is Ryan. I’d try to match you, but Teal said he’s not interested in settling down. He’s a playboy. But maybe you’ll meet someone else. Keep your eyes open. Miracles do happen.”

Gail thought for a moment to chastise her mother for the subtle put-down, but decided it best to let the matter drop, hoping, in some way, that she was right.

Ryan sounded like a long-time smoker, his voice phlegmy, deep, and raspy. Gail figured he was sitting at the kitchen table as they spoke, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other, ashes dripping on a Formica table, the tips of his fingers yellow-stained, the whole place smelling stale, acrid, cancerous.

“My mom said you might call. Glad to hear from you. Excuse me a second.”

Gail waited as Ryan ripped out a series of coughs.

“Swallowed wrong,” he finally said.

“I can call back.”

“I’m fine. Anyway, class is 7:00 p.m. on Thursdays. The teacher is good. Her name is Pauline. She plays mostly house music. Most people are in their late thirties, early forties. Pretty balanced.”

Ryan coughed again. Gail wondered how he could ever get through a class. She imagined him clutching his chest over the bike, his body shaking in spasms, a cigarette pack rolled under his t-shirt.

“Is the class hard?” she asked. “I haven’t worked out in a while. “

“You’ll be fine,” Ryan half-choked in response. “My mother says you have a nice shape. You shouldn’t have a problem.”

Gail blushed.

“Hello.”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Does it cost anything?”

“Are you a member of the YMCA?”

“No.”

“Then it’s ten dollars. But I have a guest pass you can use. If you want to come and try it out, I’ll put your name at the desk.”

“Okay,” Gail said, “thanks.”

“No problem,” Ryan said, slipping into another coughing jag.

Ryan didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. He smelled like cigarette smoke buried in aftershave. He was short and thin with straggly gray hair and close-set green eyes that stared down his long nose. His face was shiny and newly shorn.

“A few of us usually go for a fruit smoothie after class,” he said. “You should join us. It’s a good way to replenish.”

Gail searched the room for a bike in the back, out of sight. She was already regretting coming to the class.

“Oh, I probably can’t,” she said. “I have some work to do tonight.”

“Here, take the bike next to me.” Ryan said, coughing into his palm. “You have water. Good. Now strap in and warm up a bit. But go easy today. Maybe I’m giving you too much advice. Just have fun.”

Gail climbed on the bike, adjusted the seat, and began peddling in slow arcs. She hadn’t exercised much since she broke up with Gavin, her last serious relationship. Gavin was an advertising salesman who played in a blues band. They used to ride together in a local park on the weekends. But that was nearly five years ago.

People streamed into the room amid happy chatter and puffed and pulled and arranged themselves on the bikes. Gail’s eyes darted around the room—at the hands of the men and the bodies of the women. All the ladies looked younger and in better shape than her; all the men had wedding rings, except Ryan.

Pauline, the instructor, walked in and clapped her hands twice. She was round as a beach ball and wore a one-piece pink Lycra sweat suit. Her hair was bound up in a bun and she had heavy black eyeliner and purple lipstick.

“Anyone new to the class?” she asked.

Ryan pointed at Gail.

“Over here.”

Gail blushed and lowered her head. When she looked up, Pauline was standing beside her bike, gripping the handlebars.

“Know how to ride a bike?”

“Yes.”

“This is the same, but you aren’t going anywhere. You can still get hurt, though. People make that mistake all the time. They think because the bike isn’t moving they don’t have to be safe. They get on wrong. Or get off wrong. And break their ankles. Twist their knees. Wrench their backs. Do you know how to stop fast?”

Gail shook her head.

Pauline pointed at the pedals.

“Pull up on that knob below the handlebars. Tighten those straps up. And raise the seat a little. Are you more comfortable?”

“I think so,” Gail said.

“Don’t worry,” Pauline said. “It’ll be over in an hour.”

Gail’s mother was in bed. She looked whiter than the painted walls in her apartment.

“How do you feel?”

“Horrible. I was throwing up all night.”

Gail pulled open the blinds. It was a sunny morning. No clouds. A blue sky. She placed her palm flat against the windowpane. The glass was still cool but warming in the morning light.

“You probably ate too much cake.”

“Ah. I only had a little. The strawberries weren’t much, anyway.” Her mother raised her right hand out of the sheets and pinched her ring and index fingers together. “Tiny. Like peanuts.”

“Does your stomach still hurt?”

“Nothing left in it to hurt. I just feel tired. I’m an old lady. What do you expect?”

Gail went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, rinsed and then filled a dusty glass sitting on the sink. Next to her, rows of pill bottles filled a portable tray. Inside the bathtub was a special railing so her mother could lower and raise herself into the water. She had always taken baths. Never showers. It was the best memory of Gail’s childhood. The sound of her mother running a bath as Gail lay in bed. The soft gurgle floating through the wall. The light splashing. Her mother humming. Then, always later, a kiss good night. Her mother’s hair wrapped in a towel. Her body in a terry cloth bathrobe. Her face warm and clean and smelling like soap. Clean and safe and warm. She hadn’t felt that in a long time.

Gail came back into the room and placed the glass on her mother’s night table.

“Drink that when you get a chance,” she said. “You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Teal told me you went to the bicycle thing.”

“Spin class.”

“Well?”

“It was okay.”

“Did you get burned?”

“I sweated like a pig.”

“How did you like Ryan?”

“He’s fine. Friendly.”

Her mother struggled for the water and pressed the glass to her lips. She swallowed in sips and then rested it back on the table.

“A playboy. That’s what Teal says. Says he has women calling him all the time. A real ladies’ man.”

“Yeah,” Gail said. “I can see that.”

“You’re coming to class tonight, right?”

Gail was at work. She stared at a spreadsheet on her computer screen, wondering how she would make it to the end of the day without falling asleep. She had Ryan on the speaker, his voice reverberating in her little cubicle. She heard her boss’s voice coming near, snatched the phone, and held it to her ear.

“I’m a little tired.”

“I’m beat too,” Ryan said. “I went out last night after work. Stayed way too late.” He coughed three times, each deeper and longer than the next. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Partying. I’m forty-four. I should be married and tucking in kids by now.”

Her cell phone buzzed. It was her mother.

“Okay,” she suddenly said to Ryan. “I’ll go to Spin tonight.”

“Great. Why don’t …”

“Sorry,” she interrupted him, reaching over to click off the speaker. “I have to take another call.”

Gail’s legs burned. They were standing up for two counts, sitting for two. Up and down. Up and down. The song was ending. Pauline yelled out. “Finish strong. Don’t give up.” Up and down. Up and down. Her sweat poured out in a straight line under the bike. She focused on it. Watched it pool and roll towards Ryan’s bike. “Everyone sit back down. Take the tension off. Coast. Flush out your legs. Drink some water.”

Gail continued to ride hard. The burn seared. She gritted her teeth.

“Everyone slow down. Bring your bike to a stop.”

Ryan caught Pauline’s eye and they both looked over at Gail.

“Hey,” he said, “we’re done.”

“Sorry,” Gail said. She slowed her legs and then got off the bike and joined the class in stretching. Coated in sweat, Ryan handed her a towel.

“I always bring an extra,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Hey,” he coughed. “I heard your mother wasn’t feeling well, how is she?”

Gail scrunched her eyebrows.

“Better, I hope. She called me right after I spoke with you.”

Ryan removed his headband and pushed back his hair. “Yeah. These old ladies are tough. They don’t sit around feeling sorry for themselves. They’re something. My mother can hardly see three feet in front of her, but she has an opinion about any woman I date. She said my last girlfriend was too busty. Can you believe that? Cracked me up.”

Gail nodded. She thought about her mother. Lying in bed. The pill tray in the bathroom. The railing in the bathtub.

“I tell you. They get around. Next week they are going on a bus trip to a casino and then to see a concert. I think Tony Bennett. They have a better social life than I do.” He coughed hard. “But they stick together. My mom. Your mom. The other ladies. They’re like a gang. They look out for each other.”

Gail smiled. The room was empty except for Pauline, who gathered up her microphone headset and cassettes. The sweat began to chill on her skin.

Ryan put his hand on her shoulder.

“Would you like to come with us tonight?” he asked. “To get a shake.”

“No, I can’t,” she said, moving away from his touch. “I’m going to see my mother. See how she is.”

Ryan’s eyes dropped and he stifled a cough with a fist.

“That’s nice. I should see my mother more.”

“But maybe next time,” Gail said. “I mean, getting a shake.”

“Sure,” Ryan returned. “Whatever you decide.”

In the locker room, Gail showered quickly, changed, and was out the door when she ran into Ryan and a few others from the class mingling in front of the building.

“Take care,” Ryan said. “Hope your mom is feeling better.”

Gail smiled and waved. “Thanks.”

She began walking away from the group and pulled out her cell to check messages. There was one. It was from her mother. She was at the hospital. Something had happened to Teal. Gail listened until the end and then began to walk to where Ryan was still talking with the group. He saw her eyes and stopped. And then he began walking toward her.