I watched them as they pedaled away, Torbin riding abreast with Cordelia. She was nodding her head to something he was saying. Then a line of trees hid them from my view.

A marathon or two later, I looked at my watch and realized it must have stopped. Not enough time had passed for my stomach to feel like it had loosened all its moorings.

As I was slowing, I noticed Joanne riding back in my direction. But instead of passing by as I had expected, she turned and rode beside me.

“I wanted to talk to you about Alex’s birthday,” she said, slowing to my speed. Joanne is in her late thirties, her hair marked by gray, the lines at her eyes and nose permanently etched into her face. Her aviator-style glasses masked her constantly observing eyes. She had an intensity that I found both compelling and forbidding. That attraction had flared into an affair, but not one that could last, caught as we were between our barely controlled tempers. Now we were trying to find our way back into friendship.

“Uh-huh,” I panted in response to her.

“It’s going to be a night on the town for all of us.”

The only response I could manage was a grunt.

“Cordelia’s paying for most of it,” Joanne continued, oblivious to my discomfort. “And I know you can be persnickety about that.”

I stopped. Clearly we needed to have more than a one-sided conversation. Joanne looped back to me.

“Now, what,” I gasped, “is that,” another breath, “supposed to mean?”

She stopped and dismounted her bike.

“And who the hell,” I continued, having taken a few breaths in the interval, “told you I was ‘persnickety’?”

“Alex. Via Cordelia.”

“Great, so Cordelia’s discussing our disagreements with the whole world?”

“Calm down, Mick,” Joanne said. “Alex and Cordelia are close friends. They’re going to discuss us. Come on, let’s walk. I don’t want to stand here and cool down.”

“I don’t like this, I feel used,” I said as we started walking.

“Get over it. There are always little adjustments. This is one,” Joanne said bluntly, obviously not in one of her more charitable moods. I liked Joanne, on some level even loved her, but not for the gentility of her temper. “Alex’s birthday. Be there and behave.”

“Don’t order me about.”

“Take it as a request, then. This matters to me, Mick,” Joanne told me. She looked directly at me. “Alex is taking this birthday hard. I want her to have a great time.”

“Okay, Joanne,” I relented. “I’ll be a good girl.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving me one of her rare smiles. Then she got on her bike and headed off again.

I faked jogging until she was out of sight, then slowed, trying to figure out whether I should be annoyed because of Joanne’s lecturing me, angry because of Cordelia passing along things that I felt should be just between us, or vaguely pleased that Joanne thought my presence could be that important at Alex’s party.

Despite my slowed pace, sweat was running off my nose and into my eyes, finally deciding the battle on the annoyed and angry side. Nor was my budding foul mood assuaged by my bicycling buddies returning a good half an hour later than expected, leaving me sitting on the hood of Cordelia’s car, locked away from my towel and water bottle.

They were laughing and having a good time, Torbin and Andy still with them. Danny took it onto herself to enlighten me as to what a wonderful time they had. They were late because Torbin had been so funny, yadda, yadda, yadda. I nodded and grunted ever so politely.

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia said as she finally tore herself away from some hilarious story Torbin was telling. “I didn’t mean to strand you here.”