Rafael Yglesias - Only Children

“That’s true,” Eric said.

They moved on. Barry was quiet until they were almost at the park. Luke had danced ahead to the corner. Barry whispered in Eric’s ear: “Why did you tell him he might crash into people?”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s why I said it was smoother in the park,” Barry defended himself. “Now he may worry he’ll crash.”

“Dad, Luke knows he may crash. I’m trying to make it clear that’s nothing to worry about.”

“But it is smoother in the park.”

It wasn’t, but Eric let that point pass. Why fight?

When they reached the park, Luke immediately got on his new bike. Eric held it by the underside of the seat. Barry stood ten feet off, half bent over. “Just pedal fast,” he said.

“I’ll hold the bike, Luke,” Eric told him, “until you ask me to let go.”

“Okay,” Luke said, brave and firm and scared.

Eric pushed, keeping his eyes on the little head, aloft on the bike, ready to move on. “Pedal,” Eric prompted.

“Pedal fast,” Barry said.

“I don’t want to,” Luke mumbled.

“Pedal as fast or as slow as you want,” Eric said.

They moved. Luke stayed stiff on the bike, afraid to move, his arms bowed in the air, gripping the handles desperately.

“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” Eric said, huffing and running quickly.

They had passed Barry, who shouted: “Let go of him!”

“Don’t!” Luke begged.

“I won’t until you say I should.”

Eric had to run fast now; it was harder and harder to keep up with his son.

“This is fun,” Luke said. His arms relaxed.

“You can see so many things, can’t you?” Eric said, huffing. They were close to a turn.

“Yes. I’m higher up,” Luke said.

Eric couldn’t stay with Luke. They made the turn onto a downward slope and the bike gained speed. One hand came off the bike, briefly.

“Can I let go, Luke?”

“Sure,” said the happy voice.

But Eric didn’t. He had to run very fast to keep pace with Luke, but he didn’t want to let go, to lose the sight of his son’s open, joyful face.

“Let go, Daddy,” Luke said.

“Okay, I’m gonna let go.”

“Okay,” Luke sang back to him.

“Remember how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” Luke said, impatient now. “Let go!”

Eric opened his hands and watched his son zoom away.

Eric’s soul went with Luke — released, fast into the world, the figure, erect and proud and little, getting smaller and smaller, farther and farther away.

I leave him in your care, world. He is the best I can do. Take care of him.

“I’m doing it, Daddy!” Luke called back. “Should I stop?”

“When you want to, Luke. Only when you want to.”

The bike wobbled. Luke put his feet on the ground and they skidded. The machine began to tilt. Luke planted his feet hard— and he went over, collapsing into a heap with the bike.

Eric and Barry ran to the fallen Luke. He lay still on the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“My foot is trapped,” Luke said. Barry lifted the bike. Luke got up slowly. He looked betrayed. “I hurt my knee,” he said.

Eric rolled up Luke’s pants. There was a broad patch of skin gone, an angry red rectangle.

Luke winced.

“It’s not bleeding. Do you want to try again?”

“No,” Luke said.

“Oh, you should try right away,” Barry said.

“I don’t want to!” Luke said.

“You won’t fall,” Barry said. “You fell because you were going too fast. Just go slower and you won’t fall. It’s because you stopped thinking about being on the bike. You know, it’s a funny thing, but the better you are at bike riding, the more likely you are to fall.”

“What?” Luke said.

Eric knew what his father meant: you get careless.

“Try again and go slower,” Barry insisted. He held the bike for Luke. “Go on, get on.”

Luke obeyed. But he was reluctant this time. Still scared, but not brave, not happy. Eric became a spectator. Barry took over.

Barry pushed Luke slowly, then let go without warning. Luke immediately put his feet down and stopped. Barry asked him not to do that. Luke said Barry shouldn’t let go unless he asked him to. How about I let go after I count to ten? Barry suggested. Luke agreed, but again was reluctant and unhappy. Barry pushed Luke slowly and let go after a count to ten. Luke wobbled on for a bit, then put his feet down and stopped. Barry lectured him: “Don’t worry about falling. If you go slowly, you won’t fall.”

Eric was sweating. His head ached. Watching Luke fall had upset him. Listening to Barry, he was nauseated. He hated the sound of his father’s voice: it was insistent and whiny, obviously fake in its protestations of assurance. Eric wanted to get away, to stop hearing Barry talk.

Luke started up again, but immediately quit once Barry let go. It was obvious Luke could ride the bike, but the fear of falling defeated his ability.

Barry lectured Luke: “If you go slowly and think about it you won’t fall. If you’re careful, you won’t fall. It’s funny,” Barry kept saying, “but the better you become, the more likely you are to fall.”

Eric’s mouth dried up. His head hurt. His skull bones were falling in, battered by Barry’s talk. Stop him, he could hear Nina say. Stop him from talking to Luke.

It’s funny, Barry kept saying. The better you are at something, the more likely you are to fall.

At this point, Luke wouldn’t even allow Barry to let go of the bike.

Eric got to his feet. He charged over to them. “Okay, okay,” he said talking fast, afraid of the rage inside. “Listen to me, Luke.” He talked as if he were giving instructions in a crisis, saving Luke’s life. “The faster you go, the less you think about it, the easier it’ll be. Grandpa’s wrong. He’s totally wrong. The better you are, the less likely you are to fall.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Barry protested.

“Yeah,” Luke said. He laughed, but tears came to his eyes. “I didn’t think it made sense.”

“When you decide to stop, use the hand brakes.”

“I use my feet ’cause I don’t—”

“You shouldn’t use your feet—” Barry started again.

“You don’t want to tip over,” Eric outshouted his father. “I know. I know, but first slow down with the brakes. You won’t tip over until you’re going slow. Then put your feet down. You won’t fall, Luke. Your body knows how to ride the bike. You already did it, remember? Look—” Eric pointed the distance Luke had traveled before the fall. “Look how far you got. You did that all on your own. The better you are, the more you do it, the less likely you are to fall. And if you fall — so what? You get up and go on!” Eric felt as if he were about to cry. It was absurd: why did he feel like bursting into tears? He swallowed them back. “The better you are, the faster you go, the more sure it is that you won’t fall. And if you do—” He paused, held his hand out, offered the finish to Luke.

Luke watched him. His mouth was tight, his blue eyes glowed in the sun. “So what?” Luke said. “I can just get back on and ride, right?”

“Right! Let’s do it.” Eric grabbed the back of the bike. “I’ll let go when you tell me.”

He pushed Luke fast, his heart racing. Eric saw a look of hurt on Barry’s face. Dad didn’t mean any harm, Eric said to himself. Barry just doesn’t know how to teach.

“Let go,” Luke said suddenly.

“Okay!”

Eric let go of the bike and stopped. Luke skimmed away, riding on the world. Eric was between the branches of two trees and the sun was on his head, warming him. He felt a chill shiver through his body. What the hell was all that from Barry? He doesn’t know how to deal with kids. I’ll tell him I was sorry for interrupting his lesson. Probably it would have worked, but Eric had felt too sick to listen.