Torn Between Two Lovers

Torn Between Two Lovers

by Tragudis

Wally

It was one of those Indian summer days that a cyclist like Wally Levy deem ideal--warm, sunny, beautiful. Around a dozen people from the Northeast Cycling Club's 13-15mph pace group showed up on Saturday morning, a better than average turnout. The ride leader handed out cue sheets for the forty-mile route, and then introduced two new members, one of whom was Erica Lurie, a twenty-something rider in a group of mostly middle-agers, and a few that had crossed seventy.

Being thirty-one, Wally was one of the youngest riders in the group, where the men outnumbered the women in a lopsided ratio of around eighty to ninety percent, par for the course. No wonder that Erica, a young, hot-looking babe to be sure, was getting lots of attention, most of it confined to discreet looks and friendly chat.

While the ride leader gave a brief rundown of what to expect on the ride, Wally stood behind Miss Lurie, admiring her smooth, athletic legs, while also wondering if she could keep up. Thirteen-fifteen was hardly racing speed. However, she was the only rider out of this dozen on a hybrid, a bike with upright handlebars and wider tires. That rack she had installed in back, plus the round mirror obtrusively sticking out from her handlebars, added to the weight of her aluminum bike and reduced aerodynamics. This chick will get dropped like a bad habit, Wally thought.

The route would take them from the Maryland Line park&ride lot near the Mason-Dixon Line, into Glen Rock, Pennsylvania. The terrain rolled through mostly farmland, with patches of suburban development here and there. The route had hills, most of them under ten percent grade. Wallace had done harder routes, routes with longer, steeper hills. Still, the ride wasn't without its challenges, especially if, like Erica, you rode a hybrid and you wanted to keep up with riders on lightweight, carbon machines with dropped handlebars.

Per what normally happened, the group of twelve splintered into sub-groups after the first major hill. And guess what? Erica, along with Wally and three other riders, were in the lead group. By mile four, they averaged just over sixteen miles per hour. Wally was impressed to see Erica chasing two riders that had broken away, pumping her smooth, tan legs like pistons, despite enduring more wind drag than the rest of the riders. She never quite caught them, but what an effort! Wally and another rider reeled her in a couple of miles up the road. On the hills, she didn't stand up even once (more awkward on a hybrid), preferring to sit and spin at what appeared to be at least a ninety-rpm cadence.

The two hammerheads broke away and stayed away, while Erica, another rider and Wally reduced their speed to within the listed pace all the way to a convenience store in Glen Rock. They had gone around twenty-six miles and already Wally's quads were burning from the fast-paced start. The two hammerheads were already there. Minutes later, slower riders from the group began to stream in. The Royal Farms store was the rest/snack stop, where some riders bought jugs of water or Gatorade and energy bars or just consumed what they brought with them while chatting outside the store.

Wally's vintage, all-steel red Schwinn Paramount, replete with six-speed freewheel and downtube shifters, caught a few curious stares (and snickers), as it did at the ride start. He owned a more modern, twenty-two-speed, carbon Specialized but liked the looks and feel of his vintage Paramount, not to mention the attention it brought. Erica noticed. "Cool bike. Did you inherit that from a relative or something?"

"An Ebay purchase," he revealed, taking note of how pretty this girl was. She had medium brown hair, tied into a braid, green eyes, a cute, slightly upturned nose and lips that said, kiss me.' To his eyes, she was the image of the proverbial farmer's daughter in Spandex. She was also a bit taller than him, which made her slightly over five-eight.

"You're one powerful rider," he said. "Think what you could do on a road bike."

"Yeah, this bike makes me work harder," she said, reaching for an energy bar in the pocket of her sleeveless blue jersey. "But it's comfortable and I have no desire to race. I do the trails a lot." She bit into her snack. Then: "So what about you? You're not built like your average skinny road racer," she said, eyeing his sixteen-inch biceps.

She got that right. Wally told her that he hit the weights two to three times a week and tipped the scales at around one-ninety, way above what most cyclists weighed around his height.

"I've been lifting weights more lately," she revealed. "Leg extensions and lunges holding dumbbells." Her well-developed quads confirmed that. "By the way, I'm Erica Lurie."

"Wally Levy."

They shook hands. Most women rarely gave their last names to strange men on rides like this, which made Wally wonder if there could be a remote chance that she might be interested in him. He sure as hell was interested in her. Was she married or otherwise attached? He had no clue and knew to ask was stepping over that unspoken line where personal questions like that didn't belong on group rides between people just met. Protocol...

The group took off, and formed another sub-group, this time with six riders. Then, not two miles from the rest stop, Wally's rear tire punctured. The group saw it but, after a token, 'are you okay?,' they kept going. All except Erica.

"Look, I don't want to hold you up," he said, after pulling over to the shoulder of the road. "I've got spare tubes and the means to change them."

Erica clipped out and stood by her bike. "I'm sure you do. I just wanna make sure you're okay." She flashed him a warm smile. "Besides, I like riding with you. So, can I stay?" She drew an exaggerated, little girl, please let me grin.

"Well, now that you put it that way," he said, before pulling into a nearby driveway to change his tube. A few of the slower riders passed by, asked the same token question, then proceeded on. "I appreciate you sticking around," he said. "Most riders, as you might have noticed, really don't want to. It's an imposition."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed."

Once back on the road, they traded the lead over the beautiful rolling countryside. At one point, they even indulged in some friendly competition, racing up one of the hills. "I thought you didn't race," he yelled standing up, bouncing on the pedals, just inches from her rear wheel.

She laughed and made a half-turn. "Not officially. But I CAN get competitive."

Pulling parallel with her, I said, "Yeah, I got that impression when you were chasing those lead guys before the rest stop."

They stayed together for the rest of the ride, chatting back and forth when there was no traffic behind them. In those moments, he learned that Erica worked as a radiology tech. In turn, she learned that he worked in real estate, fixing up houses and flipping them. He got the feeling she wasn't married because from experience, whenever he engaged in prolonged conversation with women on bike rides, they invariably mentioned a husband.

When they returned to the ride start, a few people were standing around, engaged in the usual post-ride chitchat. Wally didn't normally do that because long rides left him wanting to get something to eat and possibly a beer, a beverage that refreshed him like no other after a long bike ride in warm weather. He slipped a pair of khaki shorts over his spandex, while watching Erica slide her bike into the back of her forest-green Mini Cooper, parked a few cars away from his Ford SUV. He was tempted to ask if she wanted to share a beer, a bold move considering the circumstances. Once her bike was secure, she stepped over as he was closing the rear door of his car. "Nice riding with you, Wally," she said.

"Yep, same here."

Wearing flip-flops and white shorts she had slipped over her Spandex, she appeared fidgety, looking as if she was debating whether to say something. Finally, she said, "Look, I don't know about you, but I could go for a nice cold brew right now. Devonshire is close by. Care to join me?"

His jaw dropped in wonder. "Erica, you read my mind. "You bet. Let's do it."

Devonshire was a 100-acre local brewery and farm that had been in the same family for a long time. The "tap room," a barn/bar with tables and stools, served patrons who came to imbibe and socialize. In warm weather, one could relax on the adjacent flagstone patio that looked out onto acres of green fields. No liquor was served here, just local brews, plus pizza and sandwiches.

They walked across the gravel parking lot in back, then headed into the tab room, where they ordered mugs of lager, a pizza big enough to split, and then took the meal outside.

She couldn't be married, Wally thought, not if she's sharing a pizza and beer with me. Following some cycling gab, he learned more about her. She played piano and liked watching old black and white movies. Also, she took up cycling to lose weight. "Believe it or not, I was a real fatty a few years ago," she revealed.

"I find that hard to believe," he said.

She whipped out her phone and scrolled to one of her pics. "Seeing is believing. That's me at twenty-one."

She wasn't lying. The pic showed her in shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. Fat thighs and arms and a belly that no girl should have at that tender age. Her dour expression said it all: I don't like myself.

She continued. "I called myself the pastry queen as a joke. But inside, I was miserable. My self-image was in the tank. People would say, 'you have such a pretty face, Erika. If only...'"

"Not pretty, beautiful," Wally said. "And look at your bod now."

She nodded. "It feels good to have pizza and beer and not feel guilty about it. Because now I burn it off."

"Sounds like you turned your life around. Not everybody has the discipline to do that."

She nodded while taking another swig. "Well, I got sick and tried of seeing what I saw in the mirror, of sitting home on weekend nights. Guys did ask me out. But then it wasn't long before they began criticizing me about my weight. I stopped going out altogether, sat around the house and moped."

"How about now? No more moping, I bet."

"No more moping. In fact, one of the reasons I joined Northeast was to meet guys who care as much about health and fitness and love cycling as much as I do. That's become a big common denominator for me."

"Smart move. The ratio is way in your favor."

She reached for another slice of pizza. "Yeah, that's for sure. This is only my third ride with the club. I'm surprised more women don't come out. Not that I'm complaining."

"So I have to ask you this. Am I the only guy you've shared a post-ride beer and pizza with?"

She drew a flirtatious smile. "You are, Wally."

He grinned in satisfaction, momentarily at a loss for what to say. "I feel honored."

She grinned while keeping her green eyes on him. "Truth to tell, you're the only guy I've wanted to share this with since I joined the club."

What a day this is turning out to be, Wally thought, during a few moments of silence when they did nothing more than eat and drink while gazing out at acres of lush green fields and the cows grazing on them. He always felt great after a bike ride, high on those endorphins kicking in, a byproduct of vigorous exercise. Sitting here with the beautiful Erika Lurie took that special feeling to another level. With a follow-up in mind, he said, "Erika, maybe when you're not riding with the bike club, we can do our own ride. Just you and me."

After another swig, she said, "I'd like that. Sounds like fun and challenging for me because you're a strong rider."

Neither of them saw the tall guy with dark brown hair and closely cropped beard and mustache standing by a table a few yards away, beer mug in hand, staring at Erica. He squinted a couple times, as if he wasn't sure if that was really her. Neither Wally nor Erica noticed until he stepped over and said, "Erica, is that you?"

"Chuck Michelson," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Fancy meeting you here."

He grinned. "Well, it's a small world. You look amazing. I almost didn't recognize you."

Erica knew why. "I guess because I've shed my former fat self."

He hemmed and hawed. "Well, uh, um, you WERE a little heavy."

She flashed an incredulous look. "A LITTLE heavy? According to you, you...well, never mind." She shook her head. "Anyway, Wally, this is Chuck. Chuck, this is Wally. Chuck, this is a bit of a coincidence because I was just showing Wally, my cycling buddy, a photo of myself before I got serious about healthy eating and exercise." She grabbed her phone. "Here's the old me. The me you knew before we broke up."

Chuck stood there, obviously less than comfortable, not sure what to say. "Huh huh. Yeah, I remember."

Erica extended her arm for him to get a better look. "Yes, I'm sure you do."

Wally watched as Erica and Chuck traded cautious, knowing looks, wondering what it meant.

Finally, Chuck said, "Anyway, it was nice seeing you, Erica. You look great."

When Chuck returned to his table, out of earshot, Wally said, "It sounds like you and Chuck were an item at one time."

Erica nodded. "We dated for close to a year. He's one of those guys who had a problem with my weight. Unlike the others, he stuck around for a while, hoping I'd lose weight and look the way he thought I should look. What he didn't realize, and what I came to find out, is that trying to look a certain way for someone else is all wrong. It doesn't work. You need to do it for yourself. Once I stopped dating, once I didn't have someone judging me, it was relatively easy to get with the program. My own program."

"Is he a cyclist? He's a big guy but looks like he keeps in decent shape."

"Yeah, he does. From what I remember, he's somewhat of a gym rat. He also plays basketball. Jogs too, if I remember. I get why he had a problem with my old fat self."

"Yet you two dated for a long time to be unhappy."

She took a swig. "Unhappy isn't the right word. More like frustrated. He with my weight, and me because he had a problem with my weight. Despite that, there were good times. We shared a sense of humor and an interest in movies. Also, the attraction was there. You know, chemistry. Well, with that conspicuous asterisk in place, the weight issue. Pretty face, fat bod." She sighed. "But that's in the past. Water under the bridge."

Wally was sure he saw Erica brush away a tear. "Is it really water under the bridge?"

She blinked in a look of pique. "What do you mean?"

He could see she was miffed by the question. "Look, not to pry or get too personal, but it sounds like you still have feelings for him."

She sighed again. "Honestly, maybe I still do. I sometimes wonder how we'd get on if I had met him after I got into shape. But I don't know. In relationships, it's always something, isn't it? Always something that needs fixing."

He nodded. "We're human, after all, flawed to a fault. Did you see anything in Chuck that needed fixing?"

"Man, you're really probing here."

"I'll stop if--"

"No, no, it's okay. Hmm...let me think." She propped her chin on her hand for a few moments. Then she said, "Nothing that bothered me other than his problem with my weight. Which, as I've told you, was a huge issue that led me to break up with him."

She looked past Wally toward where Chuck was sitting with a friend. He caught her gaze and held it for a few moments before they both looked away. She was either annoyed or frustrated, perhaps both, and Wally noticed. "Are you okay?"

"I was just thinking of that line in Casablanca, where Rick says, 'of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.'"

Wally knew the line and its implications for Erica. "So, of all the breweries in this county, Chuck walks into this one. Right?"

"Yeah, something like that." She looked down and shook her head. Then she lifted her mug and swallowed the last of her beer. "Anyway, it's time for me to get home."

All it takes is seeing an ex-boyfriend to alter the mood, Wally thought, as they walked back to their cars. He was going to ask her out. But now he wasn't so sure. By her own admission, a piece of her heart still belonged to Chuck.

Standing by his car, he said, "Well, it's been quite a day."

"Quite a day," she repeated. "I enjoy riding with you."

"Same here. Maybe we can do it again. And this time, just you and me. What do you think?"

"I'd like that."

Just after exchanging contact info on their phones, they looked up to see Chuck walking across the parking lot, headed their way. Wally could see why Erica found him attractive. The guy was a strapping, six-foot-three at least, in good shape, and the facial hair gave him a distinguished kind of look that some women went for. He wore off-white chinos, a short-sleeve green sports shirt and soft sole shoes sans socks.

"Erica, can we talk for a second?" he asked. "In private."

She looked at Wally, almost as if to ask permission. "What about?" she asked, turning back to Chuck.

"I just think we need to talk. All I'm asking for is a few seconds of your time."

"A few seconds?"

He caught her look of doubt. "Okay, a few minutes. So, can we talk?"

She exhaled and once more turned to Wally, who said, "Look, I was just leaving anyway. Do what you gotta do." Seconds before, he had been thinking of reaching out for a goodbye kiss. He almost laughed thinking how ridiculous that sounded now. Opening his car door, he said, "I'll look forward to that bike ride, Erica. See ya."

Erica

"Erica, you really look great," Chuck said.

"Thanks," she said, leaning against the back of her car, arms folded against her chest. "You already told me that. Too bad you never said it when we were going together."

He sighed. "Come on. I told you how pretty you were all the time."

"Yes, you did, while in the next breath mentioning diets that you thought I should try."

"Erica, we both know that you were depressed about your weight."

"And the more you criticized me, the more depressed I got and the more I stuffed myself. It was a vicious cycle that I broke only after we parted ways."

"So what about this Wally? Are you seeing him now?"

"Dating him, I guess you mean. No, we're just cycling buddies. For now."

"For now? So you might--"

"Chuck, what do you want to talk to me about?" She stood there for a few moments, looking into his blue eyes, beautiful and, she had to admit, still seductive.

He stuffed his hands inside his pockets. "I've missed you. And seeing you here today, made me miss you more."

"You couldn't accept me for the way I was."

"And neither could you. You've proved it by the way you look now."

He was right, but that didn't erase any lingering bitterness. "Okay, Chuck, but I have a right to criticize ME, to hate myself or at least hate the way I looked back then. I didn't need you or anyone else adding to my insecurity."

"I'm sorry I did that. I apologize. And I was hoping we could get together. We had some great times."

She looked away, struggling not to break down. "Yes, we did. In fact, I told Wally the same thing. But my weight issue put a damper on those good times. It was always there. You know, the big elephant in the room."

"Come on, Erica, you were nowhere near as big as an elephant."

She doubled over in a guffaw. She couldn't help it. Now THAT was funny. When she looked up, she saw him grinning, hands still stuffed into his pockets. She said, "No, but maybe as big as a hippo."

"Not even that," he said. "I'm glad I can still make you laugh."

"You always could. And like today, when I least expect it."

He put his hands out. "So, are we good?"

She turned serious. "I'm not sure what you mean by good."