In a New York Minute(34)

“I’m going to spin class! I already paid for it, and I don’t want to eat the cost.”

“Franny, what? Can you just stay where you are and I’ll come find you? You don’t need to go to a spin class right now.”

“I’m going to that place on Atlantic. I need to pedal out this energy.”

“What time does class start?” she asked, her breathing suddenly huffy, like she was running.

I whipped the phone away from my ear to check the clock. “Thirty minutes.”

“’Kay. I’m on my way.”

“What? Seriously?” I shouted as I jaywalked across the street. But all that was left on the other end of the line was silence.

*



Twenty-seven minutes later, I was clipping my shoes into the pedals on a bike, Jay-Z pumping from a speaker that was turned up entirely too loud for an 8 a.m. class. Here, in this dark room full of bikes and sweaty strangers, I could avoid the unsettling reality that awaited me. I didn’t just have new genetic info to wrap my head around.

I had a sister. And a dad I’d never get to meet.

I was already breathing heavily and was only sitting on the bike, barely moving my legs. The panic was still here. My plan to pedal it out of me was beginning to seem absurd, and I leaned my head onto the handlebars and watched as a petite woman in bright striped leggings hopped on the bike next to me.

“Excuse me, would you possibly mind switching bikes?”

Cleo. I would know that determined voice anywhere.

“I was hoping to be next to my friend,” she continued, talking to the woman next to me. “She’s getting over a terrible case of food poisoning, and I want to make sure she doesn’t pass out in class. Or barf.”

“Of course,” the woman said, eyeing me suspiciously. “What bike were you on?” Cleo pointed to the row behind us.

“Thank you so much,” Cleo said, before turning her attention to me. “Hey.” Her voice was lowered, her face shifting into one of total concern.

“I cannot believe you’re here right now.” I shook my head in amazement.

“You know me. I love making the impossible happen.” She raised a brow, always so confident. “I enjoyed the challenge, to be honest. I took a cab and ran two blocks.”

“Gooood morning, everybody!” The instructor’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker. She came in with her fists pumping, tattoos cresting over biceps, her reddish-brown hair as bouncy as her mood. “Before we get started, I want you to introduce yourself to your neighbors on either side of you!”

She cranked up the volume on a Rihanna track as people in the room started chatting. I quickly high-fived a man next to me. “Andy!” he shouted in greeting. I nodded with a tight smile and turned back to my friend.

“Hi, I’m Cleo,” she said again loudly as I turned, enunciating every word over the music. “I’m here to keep my best friend from freaking out too much!”

“Okay, everyone, crank your resistance up five turns!” The instructor’s voice boomed overhead. “And let’s get ready to power through these hills together!”

The class erupted in cheers. Apparently, everyone had showered in Red Bull this morning.

“So!” Cleo leaned in toward me so I could hear. “It’s all gonna be fine!”

“You don’t know that!” I huffed out my reply, already exhausted from the climb. “This changes everything. I have a whole family I didn’t even know about. That my mom doesn’t know about. It feels crazy.”

“Up to third position!” shrieked the instructor. I rose to my legs, my hands reaching forward on the handlebars. Cleo stayed seated on her bike, sweat already forming along her hairline.

“I have to tell my mom.” It took me a minute to get the words out. “I feel like I owe it to her to let her know.”

“No, you don’t! You get to tell her whatever and whenever you want,” Cleo shouted back. “This is your journey.”

“Please do not use that word around me ever again,” I said with a laugh, and Cleo smiled. Clearly, she had been trying to perk me up, and it had worked.

“I don’t even know if I want to respond,” I yelled back, trying to be heard over the pulsing bass. “It’s just a lot.”

Overeager Andy next to me gave me a clear Please shut up look and pressed a finger to his lips.

Cleo mouthed the word “Asshole” at me, and I let out a guffaw.

“Remember, we’re a pack,” our instructor wailed from atop her bike at the front of the room. “We ride as one!”

“Look, whatever you decide to do,” shouted Cleo, wobbling through push-ups on the handlebars, “I’m here for you. And Lola will be too, obviously.”

She paused for a beat.

“God, this fucking sucks,” she said with a laugh as the instructor announced it was time to grab weights for the arm workout.

I nodded along in agreement, and on behalf of my quads, which were very pissed off. “I really can’t believe you’re here. When was the last time you took a spin class?”

“Last time? Um, that one time I did it with you.”

“That was almost a year ago, Clee.” I started laughing so hard I almost dropped my weights.