6. Riley
Riley
“My sister committed suicide at the end of last season. She suffered from depression and overdosed on her antidepressants. She used to travel with me, so she wasn’t alone.
I thought being with me would help keep her mind occupied.
And she did love it, but she was good at hiding her depression and not communicating when she was having a hard day.
She told us she was away with her friends, but she ended up being in a hotel room on her own.
” My voice strained with the weight of my words.
The raw emotion. The empty void she’s left behind.
“I can’t imagine what you and your parents have been through,” she replies, her face sincere, the warmth of her hand on my shoulder as she reassuringly squeezes it and rubs her thumb in circles.
“While I would never want to stop competing, I do miss being with them more. But they have told me that we can’t change what has happened and need to be able to live our lives with this new normal.”
“That explains why you’re always on the phone to your parents. ”
“Yeah. I miss being with them and not being around them while we’re all healing.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“I wanted to let you know earlier, but…”
Her hand goes up. “No need to explain. You told me when you were ready to. Well, when I asked. Sorry if that rushed you. But I’m here for you.”
And I believe her words. I know she will be here for me.
The cool sea air hits my face as we run along the foreshore paved footpath. Everyone had things to do after strength training, so it left Mabel and me to do cardio on our own. It was such a nice day out, we opted for a run outside from the hotel gym.
“How long have we been running for?” I gasp at Mabel as she hardly breaks a sweat.
Glancing down at her watch, she huffs. “Twenty minutes. You’re an athlete, right?”
“I am still a human! Who really fucking hates running.”
She laughs and slows down to meet my jogging pace, which I slowly relegate down to a fast walk.
“You really hate running that much?”
“A bit. Guess I would prefer to stay still and do weights.”
“Speaking like a true meathead.” She chucks my chin.
“Guilty. ”
“You never ran around with your sister on your property? What was it again? Llama and goat circus performing?”
“Such a jokester.” I shake my head at her in mock disbelief. “Sheep and dairy farming. And no, we used to get around on dirt bikes. The property was too big to just run across.”
“Ah, of course. The sheep and cows. Hang on, mixed farms are…I mean there are really…” She struggles with her words.
“They are the most profitable forms of farming in Australia,” I finish for her. I knew what she was thinking, and it’s something I don’t share with just anybody.
“Is that how you know Javi, Fleur, and Cole so well? How you could all afford to get into racing?”
“Nah, Javi and I met at the Nationals when we were fifteen. Fleur and Cole met when they were young and in the youth training academy. The training academy is similar to scholarships. We all met in the last few years when we came across from Nationals to this level. Conveniently for us.”
“And you lot don’t hang with anyone else from the grid? You four are the cool kid clique?” she teases.
“Not at all! We just seemed to connect instantly, and we’re able to push each other and not get on each other’s nerves. Plus, everyone is a work colleague here. Do you get along with 100% of your colleagues?”
“Alright, I hear what you’re saying.” She smirks.
A strong breeze hits us head on and Mabel winces, raising a hand to her eyes. “Shit. I think some dirt has blown into my eye. ”
“Let me check for you.” I stand in front of her, close to block any more wind hitting her face. Both her eyes are closed, so I put one hand under her chin to angle her face up to mine, the other shielding her face from the sun and wind.
She blinks a few times, adjusting to the light and my close proximity.
“Nothing that I can see,” I reply after inspecting her eyes.
The hazel in her eyes glimmer under the mid-morning sun.
The sun shining off the coastal waters sparkle on her skin.
Her lips are full and inviting, plump with blood flowing from our exercising.
Shit, I can’t be noticing things like this.
“See. No good comes from cardio. Taking eyes out,” I mock outrage as I step back inline by her side.
“Such a baby! I should've worn my sunnies, would have solved that.” She rubs her eye gingerly.
“Let’s head back before you lose your eye.”
I watch her flutter around the kitchen, reaching up to take bowls from the top shelf, straining high on her toes. “Need a hand there?”
“I can reach,” she quips, pushing her hips against the counter, jutting her ass to reach. Her stubbornness is endearing, and I am enjoying watching her exercising her independence.
“Should we move the bowls down so you can reach, shorty?”
“Fuck off,” she throws back, but I can see the smile curl up one side of her lip .
To be fair, the shelves in this hotel room are unreasonably high. Even I need to over-extend to reach that shelf, and she is only slightly shorter than I am. But, man, I enjoy needling her for a reaction.
“AH HA!” Bursts from her mouth. A bowl in each hand, she spins around to face me, arms still over her head. Triumphant. “Suck it.”
Placing the bowls down, she starts divvying up the fruit she’s prepared.
Teasingly, I say, “Such a sour disposition. No boyfriend, I gather?”
She rolls her eyes.
“No…girlfriend?”
“No girlfriend or boyfriend,” she confirms, handing me my fruit bowl.
“Neither for me, either,” I answer her unasked question.
She looks around at the hotel room we've been sharing for the last few weeks, mockingly adding, “Hmmm, I could have guessed that.”
I feign shock, hand covering my mouth, but a smile creeps through. “You guessed right. Not many opportunities to meet up with people when we're on tracks, or on the move so much in the year.”
“And off-season?”
“Catching up with family, off-season training—not a great deal of time.”
“That’s fair. ”
“How about you? You said you were going home on the off-weekends while you were doing rally? No beaus waiting for your return home?”
“Absolutely not. I was heading back home to spend it with my parents.” She paused for a few beats before continuing.
“I had a few boyfriends across high school and uni.
Not a great deal. But my parents would tear them down.
To their faces. Despite me asking them to cool it, they were relentless.
And so boyfriends started becoming less and less.
I thought it unfair to put another person through that.
I have to deal with them because they're my parents. But bringing someone else into that is shit.”
“You don’t have to deal with anything. Respect goes both ways.”
“Yeah, I agree. The biggest reason I changed jobs was because it was traveling for the majority of the year. I couldn’t pass it up. Give me that scapegoat to be away from them.”
“Mabel, I see you be a PR boss bitch within the track walls. You take no shit. How are you needing a scapegoat to escape your parents?”
“Their negativity, the constant berating and badgering becomes too much. It feels like I can’t escape it. I am transported to being nine-years-old again.”
I nod, because I don’t know how to respond to that.
I can’t understand the logic of parents being so cruel to their children.
“This year will be a good year. I’m already so relaxed away from them.
And they never want to be the ones to initiate contact, so it’ll all be in my court to hear from them.
” She smiles. As I open my mouth, my tablet starts ringing, loud bells interrupting us.
Stretching over to reach for it sitting on the kitchen bench, I answer it to my parents’ faces filling the screen.
“Hey, Mum. Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, Riley,” they answer in unison. “We aren’t disturbing you?”
“No, no. Just came back from training. Settling down for a snack Mabel fixed us.” I raised my bowl, as if to prove they weren’t interrupting anything more than that.
“How’s Mabel going? Settling in?”
“You can ask her yourself,” I offer as I spin it around to face Mabel standing in the kitchen. “Hi!” She waves with a fork in her hand and an apple piece in her mouth.
“How are you going, dear?” I hear Mum’s voice get a little louder, like she has leaned closer to the tablet on her end.
Finishing the apple, Mabel replies, “Good, thanks. Feel like I've found my feet somewhat over the last week, especially.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. You should be so proud, dear.”
“Thanks. How are you both going?”
“Great. We added some more sheep so needed to hire another shearer. He starts tomorrow. Never ends.” Mum laughs.
Mabel, Mum, and Dad chat for a few more minutes as I finish eating. My eyes take in the animation on her face. The at-ease tone in her voice conversing with my parents. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in running my fingertips down the side of her cheek to see how soft her skin felt .
Mabel looks up, meeting my eyes.
“Sorry. I should give you back to Riley.”
“Don’t be sorry. We loved talking with you, Mabel. Good luck with the rest of the week.”
Mabel turns the tablet towards me and mouths ‘sorry’.
“Don’t be!” I replied out loud with a smile.
“I’ll give you some space.” She waves as she ducks into her room with her bowl.
“How’s everything going, honey?” Mum’s voice breaks my focus on Mabel’s closed door.
“Oh, you want to hear from me now your new favourite has left the room?” I tease with a smile.
“Things are going good. Few hiccups with the races, but slowly getting there,” I continue, but I know this isn’t what they're asking about.
“Koby gave me a few names of some therapists who do online sessions, in case I wanted to talk to someone. Have some extra support.”
“That’s a nice gesture from him,” Dad chimes in. “Have things been getting too much for you?”
“I mean, it’s been hard. Still forget she isn’t in the pit or chilling in the hotel room.”
“We’re the same,” Dad replies, his face crest-fallen. Mum places a hand over his with a mirrored look on her face.
We push forward, catching up. They pull out their phones to add my racing dates into their calendars to work out when they can take some time off from the farm and leave one of their farm hands in charge.
They receive a notification that they have a delivery come through, and wish me good luck and love for the weekend before the screen goes blank.
Opening the tablet again, my email app is still open.
Koby’s email with therapists sits at the top of the list. Tapping on the email to fill the screen, I run over the names.
He's provided a few that have different options.
Ones in each state near the tracks we race at and some that do phone and video appointments.
Cameron Anders . He does video appointments, and the notes say he also covers sports and injury-related mental health issues.
Figuring that would be a smart approach to ensure my mental health doesn’t affect my resilience on track, I click his email address and shoot off an email to him, asking his availability.
Mabel’s door cracks open, and I turn to her. “Sorry, don’t want to interrupt your call.”
Waving her out of her room, I respond, “Nah, all good. They had to get back to the cows. Sorry if they over-stepped at all.” It’s my turn to apologise.
“Don’t be silly. I enjoy chatting with them. They are really nice.” She places her bowl in the dishwasher, motions for my empty bowl to do the same, and settles back in the kitchen.
“Were we discussing anything we needed to finish?”
“Nope. New topic.”
“What will you do in the off-season?”
“I don’t have anything concrete in mind. Just a few different ideas.”
“Like?” I probe .
“Maybe rent somewhere short-stay in a city. Head over to New Zealand for some hiking. After seeing Fleur’s property, I might need to reassess my goals. I think I need to start daydreaming about what I could do to a property like that.”
“That is a good one. There are some beauties in the Southern Highlands.”
“I’m going to have to check that area out now. Might need to be my new nighttime wind-down phone scrolling activity. Properties to do up! What will you do in the off-season?”
“As previously mentioned. Catching up with family, off-season training.” I send over a wicked smile.
“Creature of habit.”