“tell me something”

1976

It was July in New Jersey, meaning it was far too hot out and the sun was shining high in a cloudless sky, as two girls raced their bikes across town lines. In reality Pine Beach was only around five miles away and a half-hour ride, but in the merciless summer heat it felt like a marathon and by parents’ standards Pine Beach was too far to be at 14-years-old. What if something happened? How would you call home? Of course, they had no reason to listen—this was decades before smartphones, and nobody knew where you were going unless you told them or they saw you. Being the second-youngest in a family of four also provided Laurie with a sense of comfort in her rebellion: pushing boundaries was at least expected, if not endorsed.

Lori called out, “Wanna stop at Charney’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” Laurie replied.

They were less than a third of the way when they pulled into the convenience store’s parking lot seconds later, side-by-side, Lori Wilbert and Laurie Trumble. Lori, who was “wild” according to Mrs. Trumble but “really nice” by Laurie’s account, was leading the way to a tiny riverside beach on the intersection of Lakeview Court and Riverside Drive. Not that Laurie cared, but they were, of course, going to meet a group of boys. They picked up sodas and gum to throw in their baskets and were back on their way in minutes, blonde ponytails swinging behind them as they sped off.

Unsurprisingly, the boys weren’t that interesting, and the beach, on a river and thus wave-less, was uneventful—they sunbathed, they swam, and they sunbathed some more, and by then it was time to head back home. An ordinary summer day, it was nothing memorable, and Laurie, who didn’t care for tanning or flirting and had only gone to play the part of dutiful wingwoman, was thankful her job was finally over. She wished they had gone to the ocean and the boardwalk. Even if it was further, at least there would have been more to do. The sun was still in the sky as the girls rode back towards Toms River.

“Hey, what time—”

“AHHH!”

Lori’s scream pierced the air, pulling Laurie back into the present moment.

The tire, still turning in spite of the brakes begging it to stop, came into view first. Then the cracked, bumpy parking lot underneath it. The busy strip mall behind all of it, a giant Woolworth’s dominating the space, was filed away as an afterthought.

The tire finally stopped with a screech mere inches from her face.

Laurie paused, closed her eyes, took a breath. She thanked God for her slim athlete’s body. Then she crawled out from under the car without a sound. Bright red, it was either a Lincoln or a Cadillac, not that it really mattered, not that she was paying close enough attention to remember. Everything looked shiny but the world sounded muted. She kneeled to pull her bike and towel out from underneath the car.

“Are you okay?” Lori, wide-eyed and panic-stricken, watched in shock as Laurie just brushed the dirt and gravel off of her tank top and shorts before standing, bringing her bike up next to her. She threw her towel back around her shoulders.

“Yeah, but my bike has a dent.” She looked down at it. It was gold and a classic girl’s bike, which she hated because she had wanted a mountain bike, but it was brand-new from K-Mart, meaning that her mom was likely to notice and then she would have to explain why she had been in Pine Beach. It looked like it would still ride fine so that wasn’t going to happen—because she wasn’t hurt, her mom would no doubt focus on the bike and her recklessness, and in the high of summer she didn’t want her freedom revoked for what was only a nick. Plus, even if it had snapped in half it wasn’t as though her parents would have bought her a new one. With four children they weren’t going to fix every one of their mistakes.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A group of guys in the car next in line to exit the lot had gotten out and were walking over. They were just as forgettable as the boys at the beach. The offender, an older woman, maybe in her 70s or so give or take a few decades, was taking longer to get out of hers. Laurie waved all of them off. “Yeah, all good. Thanks.”

She turned to Lori. “I’m fine. Let’s go.” Swinging her leg over the bike seat, Laurie slid on, ready to take off. Her ambivalence was as real as the car that had just hit her. Lori was still staring at her, practically frozen with her eyes still wide open. “Are you coming?” Laurie waved to the onlookers one last time, flashed a smile to prove her nonchalance, and took off without another word. Lori followed after a second.

The entire event lasted less than five minutes, but it was long enough for Laurie to make peace with it in the moment. She parked her bike in her usual spot and her mom never noticed the mark.