Chapter 35
Colin
The Col du Tourmalet had it in for me. The road was so long and straight, poking its tongue out at me as I slogged it up, throwing in a few switchbacks every now and again to steal my breath and make my muscles burn.
Today, it wasn’t only my muscles. My arm was blowing up, which made me a little wobbly with concern.
Angie had taken a look while I cruised alongside the team car, but there wasn’t a lot she could say for certain without an ultrasound or an X-ray.
It was up to me to decide how this stage played out.
I’d fucked around for ten stages like a hurt little boy and now the only chance I had to make something of this Tour was to get to the top of this vindictive mountain while I was losing blood.
Lucky I knew something about the motivating properties of spite. I’d explained it at length to the one person who made me want to take my life more seriously. I wondered what she was thinking now.
She was something so bloody special and I had a lot of making up to do. I just had to… get to… the top.
‘Still with us, C?’
Nellie’s words snapped me out of a glazed pause in my thoughts. I was clinging to his wheel, letting him take the friction of the air instead of me. Without him, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I wasn’t sure I’d make it anyway.
A sting in my side accompanied that thought. My jersey was in shreds, which would be bloody embarrassing later, watching footage of me with half an arse-cheek on show. But, for now, it was just a little extra ventilation from the cool mountain air over my sweat-soaked skin.
The drips onto my handlebars were pink and profuse and my breath was tight. I wasn’t sure what shape I’d be in when the adrenaline faded.
That was when I realised I was also starving. Bloody rookie error, forgetting to keep up my carbohydrate intake. We burned through about 8,000 calories on a day like today – I’d probably need more after the shock of the crash.
Fumbling in the pockets at my lower back, I found skin and loose Lycra – and a stinging graze that made me grit my teeth harder. Not only were my pockets empty, they were no longer pockets.
‘Uh, C?’ Alan’s voice came over the radio. ‘You done something to your heartrate monitor or are these readings accurate?’
My throat was dry.
‘You’re not bonking on us, are ya? Come on, mate. Someone get him a gel!’
Groping for the bidon on my frame, I guzzled some water, waiting for the spots at the edges of my vision to recede.
Blinking furiously, I started when someone waved a little sachet of energy gel at me and I snatched it with relief, squeezing it down in one go, even though it was the cat-piss flavour.
‘Thanks,’ I growled, still no idea who’d handed it to me. ‘How much longer?’ I knew every summit around here, every curve and incline, but it was all a blur of green and blue and pain, throbbing through me at unexpected moments.
‘At this rate? Half an hour?’ came Nellie’s answer.
‘Shit!’ I could still read between the lines of his answer. I was losing time faster than I was losing blood. The white jersey was getting farther and farther away, even as the finish line inched closer.
I’d finish this for my pride, but it would be better for all of us if I could finish it a little faster. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I picked up a bit of speed, rocking on my bike to get my thigh muscles to pull.
‘You haven’t given up yet then?’
‘Not yet,’ I shot back, ignoring the gentle goading in Derek’s tone.
‘What do you think, Nellie? Will she be waiting at the finish line?’
The strike of endorphins through my nervous system was an instant response. Leesa… Her skin, her hair, that smirk she made when she was verbally sparring with me.
‘I reckon so,’ Nellie replied, not subtle at all. ‘She seems to like him, although to be perfectly honest, I have no idea why.’
‘I know what you’re doing,’ I grumbled.
‘Yeah, because it’s working,’ Nellie said with laughter in his voice. ‘I thought she was a bit too clever to fall for you, but you must be more of a catch than I realised.’
‘Of course she’s fucking clever! She’s got an IQ higher than my heartrate right now and that’s saying something.’
Nellie grinned. ‘Gallagher finally found someone, but he’s too much of a wuss to tell her how he feels.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Maybe it’s his vocabulary that’s lacking, rather than his courage!’ I heard from Derek, up ahead. I was surprised to see him still hanging around to help me limp to the finish.
‘You fuckwit, Sabel! Get back to the front! If I can’t finish this fucking race, then you have to. Grow some balls to go with your piss-poor excuse for a moustache!’
Derek just grinned at me. With a mock salute and a, ‘See ya later, old man!’ that got lost in the wind, he accelerated ahead before he could hear my approving grunt.
‘You call that “mentoring” the new guy?’ Nellie asked.
‘Yup, I’m the bloody leader of this team!’ My laugh was cut off by a groan of pain. ‘Shut up now. We’ve got an appointment with the Col du Tourmalet.’ Where Leesa might be waiting.
I fumbled for the button to activate the radio. ‘Is Leesa listening?’
The shitty day washed over me. I probably wouldn’t have asked that question if I hadn’t been quite so cooked, but I was too tired for embarrassment.
‘I dunno, C,’ came Alan’s voice in a soothing tone. ‘Just get home safe now. She might be at the finish line.’ Along with blessed rest and complex carbohydrates.
The road was lined with spectators blowing horns, cheering and yelling and shaking all kinds of objects at me as I struggled up every metre of altitude gain.
A bunch of guys in polka-dot shirts and Cochonou bucket hats gave me a Mexican wave.
Cheering rang in my ears as all the spectators waved and clapped and celebrated my progress, even at grandma speed.
I wasn’t a prize today. I was just a guy letting his team help him so I could fight another day.
It wasn’t far now. Keeling over was no longer an option. I could keep pedalling after death – I was certain of that. Something yellow swam in my vision and it took me too long to realise it was the scaffolding of the finish line, still so… far… away at the top of a nasty ascent.
Leesa might not even be there. It was her right. I’d been a dick to her almost from the moment we’d met. But if she was…
I started to imagine her, just up ahead. She might sit in the car with me while we made our way back down to the hotel, holding my hand across the bench seat.
Had I ever held her hand? Linked my fingers with hers as though we were one organism instead of two, like those jellyfish that were actually a whole colony of jellyfish and not just one animal.
Except it would just be me and Leesa, not lots of us.
Given the way my vision was blurring, there might be two of her by the time I saw her – and not much left of me.
It was impossible to tell what was the crash and what was just the Tourmalet, but I felt as though I’d just donated a kidney – and maybe a lung. And still the finish line just seemed to get farther and farther away. But I wouldn’t stop.
I was writing my narrative – the start of it anyway – the way I wanted to go on. Sometimes my heart ruled my head, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing. My heart was getting me up the Tourmalet today. This was my race – my life.
I just wanted Leesa to appear and give me another chance – to make things different. Because I wanted her in my life more than anything. Miserable and in pain and drained of everything except the steel in my spine, I just wanted the chance to show her I’d grown up.