Chapter 19 Miguel
Chapter nineteen
Miguel
“Miguelito.” I smile at the scolding tone. Mamá calling me her “Little Miguel” is ironic since I am nearly a foot taller than her but I’ll always be her little boy I suppose. “You haven’t called me all week!”
Her voice rings through my kitchen. I’ve put her on speaker as I finish up my meal prep. Six mason jar pasta salads for Laney, six for me, a tray of homemade protein bars, and cottage cheese egg cups.
“I know, I’ve been busy with training.”
“For next week’s race? I thought you were going to cancel?”
“Yeah, I’m not running it. I’m training someone who is.”
“The girl?”
I made the mistake of telling my mother about the girl who finished in her socks and how impressed I was by her determination.
“Yes, the girl. Her name is Laney.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“It is.” And she’s a beautiful girl.
“Tell me all about her.”
“Mamá,” I roll my eyes.
“What? You haven’t so much as looked at a girl since you were in high school. Or maybe you’ve looked but you haven’t mentioned any of them to me. And you’re avoiding me, and not talking about her, so I know you’ve got feelings for the girl.”
“You really have your spidey senses on, don’t you?”
“A mother’s gift. We’re awarded them the moment we hold you in our arms.”
Knowing I won’t get out of the conversation without giving her something, and knowing I’m supposed to meet Laney in twenty minutes for a workout, I start talking.
“She’s strong, and focused.”
“Mhmm.”
“And, I dunno, she’s funny.”
“Maravillosa.”
“And, she needs someone to look out for her.”
“How so?”
I take a moment to think about it.
“She just needs guidance.” I shrug to myself. “She’s made it really far on her own but she’s making even bigger strides with my help.”
“And does your help include kissing?”
“Mamá.” I scold.
“What? I need to know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I deserve to know if you’re kissing the girl or just wishing you were kissing the girl.”
“We’ve kissed.” My mother squeals with delight like a teenager hearing about her friend’s crush. “Mamá, enough.”
“Miguel,” she sighs happily. “I am so happy for you. I love that you’re kissing a girl. But, do you know what you’re doing?”
“I’m good.” The painful reminders of the time in my life when I wasn’t good, when I was in fact spiraling out of control, cut sharply around my rib cage. Nothing like a mother’s unconditional love to turn you into a guilt ridden mess.
“I know you’re good, that’s not what I meant.”
“Sure.” It’s tough to let go of how she sees me after my history.
“Miguelito, it’s not. Trust me. I am not trying to mother you anymore. You’re well past needing it. But, I am going to take a mother’s interest in how my son courts the girl who could give me grandbabies.”
“You’re insane.” I laugh. I should have guessed.
“But she could.”
“Stop.”
“Have you been practicing?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Fine, but you’re not getting any younger. And neither am I.”
“Noted.”
“Miguel?”
“Yeah.”
“You sound brighter.” She says quietly and I stop fitting lids onto the glass containers scattered around my counter.
“I feel brighter.” I admit.
“Keep chasing that feeling.” She says. “I’ll let you go, but you owe me a visit.”
“I know.”
“Te quiero.”
“Yo también, Mamá.”
I can picture her smile as the endearment crosses through the phone. Growing up I’d hear her say te quiero to my dad and he’d respond yo también te quiero meaning I love you, too. My toddler brain skipped the second half of the sentiment and would simply reply with yo también.
And the phrasing stuck.
Honestly, I’m not sure what to tell my mother about Laney. We’re together nearly everyday for training.
After our bike ride, after one of the most sexually fulfilling nights of my life the night before, she asked me to drop her at home. Before I could muster the courage to ask her over again for dinner she told me she had plans for a girls night with Dee.
I spent my night fidgeting and pacing and finally going to workout in the gym downstairs. Then I found myself staring at the side of my bed where her body rested next to mine as sleep eluded me again.
Yesterday we met for a bike ride and a run and I joined her while she walked the dogs and then we parted ways so she could shower and get to work at Curryosity.
We’ve added physical intimacy to our relationship but I’m still keeping my past from her. And, I get the sense there’s a level of doubt under all her bravado. One she hasn’t fully accepted yet.
It’s a feeling I understand. But if she doesn’t see her successes so far as evidence she’s more than capable of rising to the top of the field, I’m not sure what will do it.
Instead of ruminating on her mindset because it frustrates me that she can’t see how amazing she is, I kept myself busy going down to Deja Brew to get an extra slice of the carrot cake she loves so much so she can enjoy it when she joins me for lunch after our workout today.
Imagining her surprised smile sets butterflies off in my stomach.
I slide into my training shoes and laugh at myself. I’m fucking screwed.
One night in my bed and my first instinct is to spoil her.
I have lost all control.
But I can’t seem to get upset about it. The euphoric rush of feelings associated with Laney and how well we do, well, everything together is new territory. I’m familiar with the high, the craving to feel it again, but I’m unfamiliar with the idea of sharing it with another person.
In the past, it was an escape. It was a solitary endeavor. I would collapse down on myself and search for what I thought freedom was.
Treatment and recovery taught me freedom was using my free will to make choices, not feeling dependent on a substance. My TitaniumPerson career taught me how good it felt to choose my health. It taught me to rise to the challenge and to not only set goals, but achieve them.
I started racing to prove to myself how capable I was. Physically and mentally.
Laney seems to be racing to prove it to everyone else.
When I reach the lobby I clear my head of the philosophical thoughts and run over the training plan for today.
It’s going to be a manageable set of strength training and calisthenics, focused on her lower body and then next week we’ll do an upper body workout and give her legs some rest ahead of the race.
She’s supposed to meet me in five minutes.
And she hasn’t texted me with a delay.
So, should I expect her in five minutes? Eight? Ten?
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to her loose association with time.
“Hey Coach!” She calls as she pushes through the revolving door.
“Morning Laney.” She steps up close and her rose garden scent curls around me. I’m distracted as my senses strive to figure out how to handle their pleasure when she places her hand on my chest, lifts up, and presses her warm, soft lips to my jaw.
I blink down at her as my fingers float to touch the spot she kissed.
Her smile is sweet and bright and her vibrant energy is in direct proportion to how grounded I feel in this moment.
I clear my throat. “You ready to workout?”
“You betcha!” She cheers and I laugh despite myself.
Her energy is a gift.
“Let’s see how long this enthusiasm lasts.”
“Do you plan to work me over…hard?” She whispers up at me as I turn down the hallway to the gym.
We reach the door and instead of opening it, I stand in front of her and lean close to her ear. “Yes Laney, you’re going to ache. And beg me to finish.”
Her eyes widen as I lean back and give her a smug smile. One that shows her I’m well aware of the promises I just made.
Luckily for her I don’t make promises I can’t keep.
We step inside and the music is loud. Just as well, I like having to get close to Laney to speak to her.
“We’re going to start with some warm up moves. Make sure your spine is loose. So, ten neck retractions, an upper trapezius stretch on each side for fifteen seconds, and then let’s do ten roll ups with a scapular squeeze at the top.”
“So you want me to give myself a double chin ten times, pull my neck like I’m a giraffe and then pretend to be one of those car dealership air dancer guys.”
I think about it.
“More or less, yes.”
“Got it.”
With a smile from Laney, and a reluctant one from me, we get started.
I keep an eye on her form and her posture. The marathon is always the toughest part simply because it’s the third discipline. It’s a mental battle more than a physical one.
But if your spine is straight, your body subconsciously thinks you’re doing better than you might actually be doing. I want to keep her back strong but loose.
We move to the roll ups and start with a rag doll hang for a few moments. Laney rounds her back more fluidly and slowly than I do so I get to watch her in the mirror as she rises.
Unfortunately, I also watch the guy behind her admire her rear end as she straightens.
I try to glower at him in the mirror but he doesn’t see me at all.
He’s just focused on the luscious globes of Laney’s ass.
My ass.
Laney is bent at the waist again, her wrists turned over and stretching out as she swings slowly from side to side. Then she inhales and as she exhales she rises slowly.
It’s like the sun cresting over the lakefront horizon.
And Mr. Death Wish is still staring.
“C’mon, that’s good, let’s go over here.” I grumble.
“Alright!” Laney claps and she bends down to grab her water bottle just as I move to put my body between hers and his eyes. The pink bike short clad ass causing all the issues backs into my crotch and awareness crests over us both.
Laney, being the temptress she is, curls herself up, keeping her ass pressed against my groin and I bite my tongue hard enough to draw blood in order to keep my senses. When she’s standing at her full height her entire back is aligned with mine.
I cave and run my nose up her neck. “You’ve got fans here Laney, don’t make me claim you in front of them.”
She turns and glances around my shoulder at the guy who, I pray for his sake, got the message.
“Oh him? I can handle him.”
“I can’t.” I admit.
Her fingers interlace with mine. I hadn’t even realized they’d fallen to her hips to hold her against me.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Kill him.”
She laughs and I let my smile crack. She steps away from me, our intense moment popping like bubbles in the air.
“Alright Coach. Let’s work out.”