Training Wheels

• Kelly Du, Grade 11, Canley Vale High School
• Short Story
• 2021

Finalist in the 'The Write Note 2021' competition

I keep forgetting...that training wheels all come off eventually.
Ring, ring! The bike behind me calls, shouting at me to move. I remain halted. He would usually grab my arm to pull me out of the way. Ring, ring! They become more urgent. As I turn around, the imminent collision melts into the blues and pinks of our old 5pm.
5pm has always been my favourite time of the day. Our breaths would pirouette up towards the ashy-blue dome, hand-in-hand with the wind’s choreography. Sauntering down this pathway with him was finally finding balance on a bike. I never had someone to share my 5pm with...and yet, he’s sharing it with someone new now.
'Does she know? That I showed you the 5pm you’re laughing under while walking her home?'
The biker started to flicker the lights as if that would get my attention even when the bell couldn’t. It still hasn’t hit me. He isn’t here to pull me out of danger anymore.
“Hey, watch out!” the biker swerved past.
Like money is happiness for some, bike-riding would be therapy for me. Powering the bike with every movement of your legs, letting your arms free, getting lost in the jocund kaleidoscope of green. That... is what I imagine riding a bike is like.
He promised he’d teach me how to ride one. But observing the rotating spokes of the wheels - how fast they were spinning, always incited second-guessing. Still, I imagine us laughing till our stomachs throb after my first fall, because “I’ll make sure you don’t fall”.
It was now 5:30pm - the systematic routine of pausing, admiring, immersing in 5pm still remains untouched. For me at least. The basketball hoop we reminisced about our dreams of becoming astronauts under, laughed about grades we were concerningly unconcerned about, and observed every little detail about each other; it seemed to hold it’s head up a lot higher than I did. Time purloined its sturdiness, but I wish Time stole my memories tied to it too.
Time spins as fast as those bike wheels do. And I think that’s why she scares me; I barely even notice her blatantly whooshing past everyday. Do you?
It was just last year that I was days away from cycling adventures. I had unrivalled wheels keeping me balanced, telling me “come on, you have the best cyclist teaching you!” But as quickly as Time unfolded, so did we.
Arriving home, instead of napping the despondency away, I deviated to the garage. A bike cocooned in at least four years worth of dust slumped in the
corner. It almost looked surprised to see me. My mother purchased it in hopes of overcoming my fear of falling, yet I remained in the self-sabotaging hole of ‘what if I get hurt? What if I don’t recover?’
But if a bike could travel to the past, I would power the wheels, clench the handles, and bestride it every single day. With or without training wheels.