Suarez stuck his legs out on either side of Mirabela as he hurtled down the bumpy path along the banks of the odra, he could feel the late autumn breeze tickling the hairs on his legs, where the gusts of wind made the bottom of his trousers flap.
In the weeks that had followed since the beginning of this wonderful friendship, he and Mirabela had spent many hours of every day exploring the city together, discovering old run down streets that had been forgotten by the city’s grand development plans, small pockets of green allotments sprouted out from behind these old tenement buildings, neat, tidy and abundant patches of soil carefully tended to by old ladies in floral headscarves. Suarez and Mirabela would stop by them to admire the ladies who worked so tirelessly around the fruit trees that were now laden with their ripe golden pears and apples. In turn the ladies would stop their work for a second, wiping the soil from their hands to look at the handsome young Latin man leaning on the beautiful blue bicycle, then pluck the ripest pear from the tree and toss it over to Suarez with a flirtatious smile. He would wink back at them then take a huge bite into the pear, the sweet juice running down his chin onto Mirabela’s elegant blue frame, then down onto here glistening metal chain, lubricating her gears and then they would be off again the sweet juice from the pear making Mirabela’s wheels spin faster than ever in delight.
They would turn left back up towards Podwale then into the park, Suarez gently stroking her bell; she would let out a shrill giggle as they glided over the carpet of yellow and red leaves that covered the path. Suarez would gently move Mirabela’s white handlebars and before they knew it there jutting up in the distance was the magnificent tower of the cathedral at Tumski, framed by the late afternoon sun that was suspended in the sky behind it. Picking up pace the pair would send confused looking tourists scattering back to the pavements as they flashed past them on the bridge. Suarez would wave at the bearded old man who sat on the bronze horse at the entrance to the park by the opera house. As soon as they entered the small circular green that surrounded the fountain, the dozing security guard would jump out of his deck chair to give chase at this flagrant disregard of the parks rules. Suarez and Mirabela would race round and round the fountain, the sour face of the park ranger getting redder and redder as he followed after them in hot pursuit. They would let him get almost close enough that if he stretched out his hand he could almost touch Mirabela’s mudguard before speeding up leaving him grasping at thin air. Overcome with dizziness he would collapse back into his deck chair, hurling expletives at the pair as they rode off laughing. Riding past Boleslaw the brave who was still sat on his unmoving horse, they would turn down onto the wide avenue that led to the grande shopping mall, Suarez would wink and wave at the line of pretty girls stood outside the designer clothes shops, they would cheer, shout and giggle back as Suarez and Mirabela wheels glistening drifted past. A short cut through the small street behind the Hotel Monopole found them whizzing past the painfully slow progressing construction of the new opera house, ignoring the lights Suarez would shoot across the busy intersection pedalling faster and faster as if possessed by the spirit of a long departed tour de France champion before cycling past the shining synagogue in the Jewish quarter. Here they would slow down to a more pedestrian pace, reflecting the languid nature of the district before freewheeling down the glass sided bridge that led to the old railway station where they had first met. Suarez would alight from his steed and then carefully wheel Mirabela into the now empty market place, they would walk along the dusty abandoned railway track until Mirabela’s wheels would stop turning as they reached the spot where the old lady’s stall had been, then Suarez would gently pull out the azure blue bicycles stand with his famed right foot before getting down onto his knees by a rotten wooden strut of the railway to say a prayer in memory of the kind woman and her beloved Pawel.
That day as he and Mirabela left the deserted station, instead of taking their usual route back to the hotel; Suarez turned his elegant lady toward the bridge that led directly to the north of the city, an area which he and Mirabela had yet to explore. The bridge was full of traffic so as soon as they crossed the huge grey metal construction he turned Mirabela into a small cobbled road, that ran parallel with the river, this part of the city seemed to be a strange combination of forgotten tenements every so often interrupted by a brightly coloured renovated townhouse, these renovations seemed to be dotted around this whole part of the city in no particular order. You would see a row of crumbling buildings, then suddenly a gleaming and freshly painted building would step out from the row, as if it felt proud in its new clothes. The streets seemed quieter than the on the southern side of the city and there was Suarez thought, a touch of melancholy to the place. They rode further North past the small park at Macieja and up through the wide avenue of Chobrego street until the rode finally curved around and back on itself, here Mirabela’s smooth wheels swung them into a tiny side street with a row of small yellow houses. At the far end of the street Was an elderly black man, he was carrying what looked like a saxophone case and was staggering in an awkward manner. As they glided past him, Suarez turned back to look at the man, he looked like the famous jazz musician Sonny Rollins, down his face were running a steady stream of tears. Suarez slowed Mirabela down, the the man did something unexpected, with all his might he flung the saxophone case into the middle of the street almost clipping Mirabela’s back wheel before sinking down to his knees in what looked like prayer. Suarez cycled toward the case he was about to lean over and retrieve it, when suddenly out of nowhere, came an unearthly screech of tyres then before either Suarez or Mirabela could work out in what direction the thunderous noise had come from, the van was upon them.
Suarez felt an almost electric pain shoot up the ride side of his leg as he was tossed into the air, Mirabela clattered to the floor, a few seconds later Suarez landed abruptly beside her, wincing with pain. The van came to a halt and two doors slid open, out of it emerged four very tall blonde men. They stood over the wounded pair, Mirabela crumpled and her bell emitting a low whimpering noise felt one of the men place a foot on her handlebars, they started to bend making her whimpers become more desperate. The tallest of the men walked around the prostrate pair lying broken on the ground with a look of satisfaction. Then he gestured toward the man who looked like Sonny Rollins, the other three giants picked him up and threw him into the van. Without a word the tallest blonde man pulled a toy pink hippopotamus out of his breast pocket and placed it down between Suarez and Mirabela, then turned and climbed back into the van and sped off.
Suarez lay on his back staring up at the sky, greyness had started to swallow up the sun, he could hear Mirabela’s whimpers beside him becoming fainter with every breath, trying to ignore the pain in his leg he rolled over and started to caress her soft white saddle, her cries became quieter and quieter until finally there was silence, at that moment Suarez started to weep.
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