try?â Darren asked.
She shrugged. âSure. Why not. Weâll see if my body remembers squat.â
Darren led the way through side streets. The neighborhood they rode in was quiet, with little traffic on the streets, and it was pleasant pedaling from sunshine to shade to sunshine. Some patches of lawn, not irrigated, had already turned golden brown, but flowers and shrubs were in full bloom. The grass was summer-expendable, and also winter-reliable. It would be green again with the first fall rains and then stay green until the following yearâs summer drought. Soon she stopped admiring the yards and gardens, and was aware only of the increasing soreness of her bottom. She shifted her position again and again; it didnât help, and finally she slowed down, then stopped altogether and got off the bike.
Darren wheeled about and returned to her side. âProblem?â
âSore butt,â she said. âYou guys go on, Iâll walk back.â
He swung off his bike. âIâll walk with you. Actually you were doing great for someone who hasnât ridden in twenty years. I was betting myself that you wouldnât last this long.â
Todd joined them, looking disappointed. âThatâs it?â
âTodd, be kind to me,â Barbara said. âI am an old woman, and my butt is sore.â
He whooped with laughter and raced on ahead.
âWhy did you decide to come along?â Darren asked after a minute or two of silence.
âI wanted to see if it was true that the body remembers. I remember how I struggled to learn in the first place. I kept falling over.â
âYeah, I know. Itâs an impossible task, keeping your balance, learning to steer and pedal at the same time. You have to learn it all together, but once itâs there, itâs always there.â
âDo you think it would be like that for other things people learn? Like a foreign language, or playing an instrument? Once you learn it, you remember, or your body or hands remember?â
âPretty much. You had a wobbly moment at first, then somatic memory took over. Your body responded to synapses your brain formed years ago. I had a patient once, a Hungarian woman in her fifties, brought over when she was five or six and never spoke or heard Hungarian again until she was forty. She said she heard Hungarian being spoken on a train in France, and at first it was like gibberish, her wobbly moment, but suddenly it was music to her ears.â
âYou think it would be like that with a musical instrument? A violin or guitar, or a piano?â
âI think so. Every bit of real learning involves synapse formation, and once there and reinforced through usage, they remain, ready to fire again given the proper cues. The younger you are when you learn, the stronger the synapse linkages are, the more ineradicable they are. Thatâs what we work with all the time in physical therapy, forming new synapses, teaching an undamaged part of the brain to take over the functions that the previously trained part canât do any longer. Anything particular on your mind?â
âMaybe,â she said. âIâm not sure.â
They walked on in silence, and she was thinking about Carrie in her cell practicing on an imaginary piano, listening to imaginary music, correcting her wobbles as she went.
It took longer to walk back to Frankâs house than she had anticipated; the ride had not seemed that long. Todd raced up the streets, back down, waited for them at the corners, then raced on again. Showing off for her, Darren said, when he came zooming by âno hands.â
âWhy me? Why not you?â
Darren just laughed.
At Frankâs house, he didnât go in with her. âI told the brat weâd take our ride, then have pizza,â he said in the driveway. âA soaking bath with Epsom salts is what you need.â
She grimaced, then nodded. âExactly.â
Todd caught