Hey Ladies

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Jim helped Lady buy her first real bike. It was a racing one, a Falcon, British, and she could lift it with a pinky. She worked at Exxon in the Supply-Side Economics department. This was before the Valdez, when work cafeterias had yogurt machines with topping bars. Back when she knew someone who went to Bard with the Beastie Boys. Paul’s Boutique was just out. Jim’s twin, Judy, and she were braless secretaries, slim. 

Jim helped Lady pick out a little kit that hid under the Falcon’s slender seat. He showed how to fix a flat. The few times Lady biked without him, cars often pulled ahead and slowed down. The drivers called out, hey beautiful. This happened on rural stretches. Judy would say, hey Lady, this is why you should play platform tennis with me. 

One time, at Lady’s southwest-themed salon, the phone rang before Lady picked up a magazine and the receptionist said hey, it’s for you. A suit in the parking lot saw you walk in and wanted to ask you out. She said um, what, and let the phone dangle. 

Judy went with Lady to the Five-Borough Bike Tour. It was fun. They were smart and wore three maxi-pads for cushioning. It didn’t much matter. Monday at lunch they laughed how it all seemed like one dumb gang-bang. 

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A. E. Weisgerber (1964 – ) was born in Orange, New Jersey to middle-class parents. She is a Frost Place Scholar, and Reynolds Fellow. Her prose, poetry, and essays appear in 3:AM Magazine, DIAGRAM, Yemassee, Berfrois, The Alaska Star, Essaying Daily, and Smokelong Quarterly. She is Assistant Series Editor for the annual Wigleaf Top 50 contest.  She is passionate about preserving open space, clean water, and the wood turtle. Follow @aeweisgerber or visit anneweisgerber.com.

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