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Tillie

Iwoke up with a pounding headache. The problem was I had no one to blame but myself.

I heard River was already up and dragged myself out of bed. After shrugging on my robe and a quick stop in the bathroom, I stumbled into the kitchen and started on the coffee. It wasn’t until I caught sight of my reflection in the window that I gasped. With tentative fingers, I reached up and pressed the giant egg that had taken over where my forehead used to be.

“Ouch!” I cried, pulling my fingers away and reaching for the ibuprofen.

When I turned around, I saw River standing there in his Batman pajamas, one leg scrunched up to his knee, looking adorably sleepy and ruffled.

“Morning, sweetie,” I greeted, ignoring the pounding behind my eyes.

“Mom, your head …” he started, pointing at me.

“I’m fine,” I lied, not wanting him to worry.

Yesterday, when River got home from school, he was so full of energy he was practically vibrating. The complete opposite of me, who was dragging my ass through the door, already contemplating ordering pizza for dinner so I didn’t have to cook.

In an attempt to burn off some of his energy, I suggested we get out of the house and do something. It was a beautiful afternoon, and honestly, I was tired of always being cooped up inside. I thought we could walk down to the park, maybe play catch, then head home. But my daredevil son wanted to go bike riding.

“River, I’m too old to be on a bike,” I told him, unable to think of anything worse than sitting on one of those uncomfortable seats for more than thirty seconds.

“You’re not, Mom. Besides, Toby’s mom and dad take him out riding all the time,” he threw back at me.

Fucking Toby’s mom and dad. I bet she wore active wear and had enough time each day to moisturize, too. And she probably drank her coffee with almond milk.

Ten minutes later, I’d changed into a pair of leggings, dug out some runners, and was standing in the garage staring at the dusty old bike like it was going to jump off the wall and bite me.

“Come on, Mom!” River called out from where he was already circling on the driveway impatiently.

Reluctantly, I unhooked it and checked the tires. After pumping them up, I squished the helmet on my head and climbed on. I looked like I needed training wheels. I wobbled, swerved, and squealed when I picked up speed and rolled onto the street. I would’ve given up and gone back inside, but the beaming smile on River’s face made me keep quiet and concentrate.

“This is awesome!” he called out over his shoulder as he hurtled down the road.

“Fucking awesome, my ass!” I muttered under my breath as I swerved to avoid a pothole. “Wait for me at the corner!” I cried out, watching as he pedaled with confidence.

My baby boy was growing up fast. Too fast. Soon enough, he’d be taking off on his bike, wanting to hang out with his friends, not have his mom trailing behind him. Determined to make the most of it, I squared my shoulders, tightened my grip, and pedaled harder.

I’ll admit, after twenty minutes I had the hang of it, and I was a lot more relaxed. My butt hurt, but as we wove our way along the river, sticking to the bike path, I grinned. This wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.

“Come on, Mom! Let’s go faster!” he encouraged, hunching forward and pedaling even harder.

“I’m going fast enough.” I laughed back at him. I might be starting to enjoy myself, but I didn’t have a death wish.

We circled around and had almost made it home. I could see our front door when I attempted to ride through the loose gravel. I knew the mistake the moment I hit it. I wobbled and then overcorrected, trying to stop myself from going over the handlebars.

I didn’t go over the handlebars.

I tipped to the side. My loose shoelace tangled around the foot pedal, stopping me from planting my foot and halting my fall. I went down with all the grace of a baby giraffe A dull thud. A whimper. A rip in my leggings. A burning sensation through my hand. And instant regret.

“Mom!” I heard River screech as I sat up, brushing the dirt from my palm, picking out the tiny rocks embedded in my skin.

I tried to tug my foot free, which only yanked the bike toward me. I meant to catch it. I caught the frame, but wasn’t quick enough. The handlebar clocked me fair in the head.

“Fuck!” I swore loudly, trying to shove the bike away.

“Mom! Mom! Are you okay?” River asked as he knelt beside me, lifting the bike off me.

“Yeah,” I grumbled, rubbing my head.