Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Laney
Goggles for the Deluge
"Dee, why hasn't anyone called?" I whine as I sit slumped over a table at Curryosity on Friday night. My body has recovered since last weekend’s race, and I’ve even done some training with Miguel.
Both in and out of the bedroom.
Saying the words, admitting our feelings to the other, unlocked a deeper level of obsession I didn’t know I could reach.
And it seems Miguel is suffering the same affliction.
It is pouring outside. One of those heavy late-summer storms where the rain seems to come down in rolling sheets.
I am checking my email for sponsorship opportunities a little less compulsively now that we're almost a week out from the race, because after four days of refreshing constantly I’ve had enough. It's disheartening to say the least.
I ran the best race of my life, my time landed me at the third fastest full-length TitaniumPerson woman’s race ever, and nothing has come of it?
Nothing.
All week, my mother’s voice has been in my head reminding me this has all been a colossal waste of time, energy, and resources.
"I have no idea, Laney." Dee says with a sympathetic tilt to her closed lip smile.
"I have worked so freaking hard, and in that last race my times were amazing. I might never race that well again."
"Don't say that, you're still going to continue training with Miguel right?"
Miguel.
Sleeping in his arms has become my sustenance. I feel like home with him in a way I haven't felt in years, maybe ever. And the way he finger combed my hair and braided it back last Saturday night after the race changed my neural pathways.
And all the whispered, giggled, and shared I love you’s of the last week are the cherry on top.
"Yeah, and honestly, I think he believes in me more than I believe in myself."
"Well, that sounds like a you problem." Dee jokes with a smile. When I don't reciprocate she continues. "Is this about your mom?"
"It has to be. I’m hearing her old arguments in my head."
"But you’re doing this for you. And for your dad."
"I know, but does she resent me for doing it? She’s the only family I have left." The words sting on their way out.
"Ouch."
"Sorry, blood family."
"I accept your apology." Dee gives a curt nod. "When was the last time you talked to her?"
"I dunno, a few weeks ago."
"And has she said anything about the racing? Wished you good luck?"
I give Dee a look that says she should know better than to even ask.
But, since I don’t bring it up to my mom when we do speak, I can’t technically blame her for not wishing me well.
"So, no."
"Not exactly." I admit. "I haven’t really told her I’m racing. I’m trying to save myself from the passive aggressive, ‘well if that’s your passion’, type of comments."
"I’m sorry."
"It is what it is." I shrug.
"But you need to tell her. Because you’re out here trying to prove to her you can make money from this and make it your profession?"
"Yeah, because passions have to justify the cost."
"What’s the cost of your passions with Man-bun Miguel?" Dee bats her eyelashes.
I blush, because those passions have been, well, passionate indeed. "I dunno, maybe the cost of having a man like Miguel is that I have a man like Miguel."
"What do you mean?"
"He’s intense, and focused, and wonderful. I just don’t know what he sees in me." Suddenly the scratches in this table top are fascinating.
"A baddie with a body for one. Two, an incredibly talented, focused, and wonderful person who is chasing her dream, for herself and her father, despite the baggage her mother piled around her shoulders."
"Is that what I’m doing?"
"Isn’t it?"
"I dunno, I'm just working so hard and I'm doing well, but it's not enough."
"Who says it’s not enough? Is Miguel saying that?" Dee’s heckles rise.
"No, no. I’m not doing enough to get a sponsorship."
"Who cares?! Goddesses, you’ve been swirling the toilet about getting sponsors for months now." Dee raises her voice.
"Because I need the money!" I lash back.
"No you don’t, you’ve got jobs for the money. You’ve got your bills covered."
"But I need better equipment."
"I think you need your ego stroked. Because this low self-esteem pity party is not you and it’s, frankly, lame as hell."
"Ouch."
"Not sorry," Dee leans forward and grabs my hands in hers. "Listen, sitting at home alone because you’re off having mind-blowing orgasms with your sexy-as-sin coach has given me some time to think about all this." I roll my eyes but she continues giving my hands a squeeze. "I think this is about your mom. I think you’re trying to prove to her you’re legitimate. That you can do what your dad couldn’t. "
"That’s not fair. My dad tried his–"
"Laney! Delivery!" Dee’s brother Bevin calls from the kitchen and both Dee and I look at the bag of food sitting on the counter.
"I gotta..."
"Yeah." Dee says with a sigh. "Laney?"
"Yeah?"
"Just promise me you're racing for yourself, not anyone else."
"I am.” I tell her and I let the moment sink in for both of us. “I'll be back in a little bit."
I slide the food into the insulated backpack, and then strap the plastic rain cover down over it.
Riding on city streets in the rain isn't the best time for introspection but I find my mind wandering.
Am I doing all this for me?
Yes, I totally am.
But, also, there is a part of me that wants to shove my success in my mom’s face and tell her chasing your passions is more than worth it.
And, there’s more.
I also feel I owe something to Miguel for all the time he has invested.
If I quit today, would Miguel be angry with me? Would he question why we’re together?
Honestly, I don’t know.
On the return ride to the restaurant the rain lets up slightly and I can keep my eyes open without my goggles on.
I might look like an idiot wearing swimming goggles but it is the only way to really see through the deluge we're experiencing tonight.
Leepa, Dee's Auntie, has a towel for me when I get back and she tells me Dee went home for the night.
I’m drenched, my clothes clinging to me in soaking wet slops of fabric.
But I feel like a soggy mess inside too.
Maybe Dee was right about the low self-esteem thing. I struggled with it when I was injured in college. Then I think for the next decade I just coasted, not feeling particularly fantastic about myself, but not terribly bad either.
My entire focus changed when dad got sick.
I started training again for my dad.
I pushed myself to the TitaniumPerson level to prove I was something more. Something better. Something worth believing in.
And, I run my hands over the little loops in the terry cloth of the towel, I’m doing it to prove myself to my mom. To prove the benefit of being a professional athlete. But I haven’t even told her I’m competing.
I am dedicated to my training because Miguel is investing his time into me.
But I am still the one swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles, and running 26.2 miles on race day.
I’m the one with the natural ability.
I’m the one with the desire to show up and push myself past sane levels of effort.
I want to push myself. And get myself to the highest level.
The rain picks up again and as I sit at the restaurant looking out through the window, dappled headlights passing by, I remind myself why I am doing all of it.
My dad chose his sport throughout my years growing up.
My mom chose herself when he died.
It’s time for me to choose myself, choose my sport, and choose the people I want to be there supporting me.