Tommy Sallow is onto better and brighter things. After working a small hometown beat in upstate New York, he's finally in sunny California. As expected, it's the same shit in a different town. Except, you know, now he's near the ocean and miserable...
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"We can go slow." Tommy's words the other night still hold my heart steadily in place. Moving slow. Treading forward at low speed, cautiously navigating the terrain. I told him slow would be good, because it would be, right?
I remember teaching Trevor to ride a bike. It was something my dad turned into a whole family event. Trevor had been chasing after Joe and I for months, trying to keep up with us, but his training wheels always slowed him down. He was so scared to let go of that added support, the buffer of added wheels. It took us half of summer and purposefully out racing him time and time again to convince him to take them off.
Mom brought out the lawn chair and fresh made lemonade. She set up a whole station for viewing and cheering him on. Joe, Dad, and I even added some pretty awesome lights to his spokes. I climbed on my bike flanking his right side while Joe had his left. Dad held onto the back of the bike while Trevor's eyes were glued in front of him. The look of determination was so dang cute on his little four year old face.
As he slowly pushed the pedal down, his hands began to shake on the bars. Dad pushed him a little harder, forcing him to pick up the necessary speed to stay stable. That look of determination turned to fear as his eyes widened. He quickly hit the brakes, shaking his head.
"That's too fast," he said, gripping the handle bars even harder.
"That's okay, honey," Mom shouted from the side. "Slow and steady. You'll get it, just take the time you need."
He looked back at her, nodding his head before looking back at the road. He tried a few more times, barely moving forward. I remember walking my bike to stay at his pace. I didn't mind it though. I knew it's what he needed to feel safe, to feel like he could do it on his own.
"Son," my dad began. "Slow and steady has a way of winning the race, but sometimes, you need a little momentum to get you off the ground. To trust when your gut is telling you that you're ready, even when your mind is trying to convince you otherwise."
Trevor's eyes flash to Joe's first. Being brothers has given them a special bond I haven't been able to compete with. Joe gives him a fist bump, exploding it as he pulls away. Trevor's eyes then glance to me. I give him a warm smile, knowing our bond is a lot different. It may not be one of two brothers, but I'm still here to protect him, always.
He smiles back at me before looking forward. "I'm ready, Dad," he nods. "Slow is good, but I'm ready to fly."
Those words stick out to me now. Slow is good. I can do slow with Tommy. Allow myself to dip my toes in the shallow ends of feelings. Feelings I never imagined being possible again. That's why slow is good. Slow is safe. Shit, slow is the exact opposite of what I think of when it comes to Tommy Sallow. Everything in me is begging to ignore the pain of my past and just do what I really want. But I know I can't rush this. I can't dive head first into something that already has me spinning. I've done that before. I've jumped without a parachute and I know how that ended.
