Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Definitely. My family came to as many of my meets as they could and sent gifts when they couldn’t come to, say, out-of-state events in person.
They were a little confused by the kickball league and this”—her mom’s ‘Good for you!’ refrain echoed in her head—“but they’ve been supportive of me through it all. ”
“That’s good. And are you currently married or dating anyone?”
“No. Why?” It was the politest way she could phrase it. Had she gone back in time to the fifties or a similar era when women could be asked those things in interviews?
“Because we need to emphasize that this is an enormous commitment that will require significant time away from your job, your home, your family, your friends, and any romantic partner. If that’s not something you’re prepared for, then being on the team may not be the best option for you or the rest of the group.
Sorry to be so blunt, but we’d rather find out now than have someone experience a meltdown midway to the Games. ”
“I see. Well, I’m not married”—she raised her left hand and wiggled her ringless fingers for emphasis—“and I’m not seeing anyone.”
Maybe she should thank Spencer for setting her free and possibly notching a point in her favor, but she wasn’t feeling very grateful. She was slightly overwhelmed by the experience of the interview and what lay ahead if she made the team.
But she also wasn’t feeling deterred. The more time she spent sledding, the more she realized she couldn’t get enough of it. She wanted to keep doing it, take it all the way to the Winter Games, and come home with a medal-shaped souvenir.
The last time she’d wanted something so badly, Spencer had been teasing her to the edge of orgasm. The memory brought a shiver below the waist, but the reminder of how things had ended slammed into her with all the force of a fall on the ice. It was almost as painful as that too.
She tried to cheer herself up with the thought that she’d probably be able to get plenty if she made the team and became a World Winter Games athlete (the stories about what athletes got up to away from the events were notorious), but it didn’t work.
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been as attentive and in tune with her body as Spencer.
Had their training sessions given him an edge in that area, or was it just his personality?
“...anything for us?” Dr. Schindler brought her back to the present with the realization that she’d missed the question.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said that I thought we had everything we needed from you but wondered if you had any questions for us.”
“I don’t think so. Thanks.” Least of all because it hadn’t occurred to her that she could ask questions.
“Then thank you for coming in.” Ms. Coolidge looked at her smartwatch. “Everyone should be in the gym by now if you’d like to rejoin them.”
“Okay.” She shook everyone’s hands and left the room with her head swimming.
****
“Excuse me.”
Spencer turned around in the lobby to face the speaker. The girl was about a head shorter than he was, with glowing skin and dark hair past her shoulders. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe. Aren’t you the one who was training that girl for the World Winter Games?”
The reminder was a stab to his heart. “Yeah, I worked with her, and she’s at the tryouts now. Why?”
“Because I’ve got a pretty unusual request myself, and you’re the only one I trust not to laugh at it.”
“Hit me.”
“I’m a performer, and I recently got a gig as a mermaid. In a tank, with a tail.”
In that instant, Spencer forgot to dwell on Misty as he considered the new girl’s predicament. “I’m going to have to give that one some thought. But to get me started, I’m guessing you already know how to swim.”
“Of course, but I’m used to being able to use my legs for it.”
“Good point.”
After they exchanged information and arranged a time to meet, Spencer asked, “And do you already have a...costume?”
“We’re being fitted for tails, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Bring yours with you, if you can.” Short of tying her legs together, he didn’t know how they were going to train without it.
“Will do. Thanks.”
She headed toward the locker room, and Spencer headed to the office to add this new client to his roster and think this over.
It sounded like a lot of core work would be involved, and like she’d be using her arms to compensate for the lack of legs.
It’d be smartest to get her in shape on land before moving to the pool, but he’d make swimming a big part of her cardio rotation to get her used to being in the water.
Whatever they wound up doing, it was good to have a new challenge.
Completely unbidden, he found himself wanting to tell Misty all about it.
The gym had seemed so drab over the past few weeks without her bursts of color and song.
Add in her coconut lip balm, and she’d been a tropical bird amidst a flock of pigeons.
Ironic given her World Winter Games goal, but he had no other way of putting it.
He picked up his phone but didn’t call her.
Instead, he went to her social media pages.
The one for her art was a collection of t-shirts, mugs, stickers, prints, and other merchandise for all sorts of authors and fandoms, sometimes accompanied by rough sketches.
He’d always seen the finished product on her workout shirts, and this look at the process gave him a new appreciation for her talent.
Something about one of them tickled his memory, and he tapped the image.
No wonder the drawing looked familiar. It was from that day Misty had had a brainstorm in the middle of their session, and he’d gotten the napkins.
It had been annoying at the time, but now he felt a flare of honor at having seen her creativity take shape firsthand.
The caption read, ‘VERY rough draft, but now I have an idea and can touch it up later. That workout got my blood and my creativity flowing! #behindthescenes #roughdraft #artists...’
The rest of the hashtags blurred before Spencer’s eyes, and he switched to her personal page to find it filled with images of the training facility and the sled itself.
One of them was hashtagged #bobsledcombine.
He tapped it to see a slew of pictures from others at the combine.
Some of these girls were far more prolific with posting, showing images and videos of workouts from all hours of the day and in all sorts of places.
What looked like a hotel gym, an ice rink, the bobsled track.
This was well beyond his typical day and reminded him of all the time he’d spent working out on the competition circuit.
He’d been in the best shape of his life, and yet he’d all but collapsed into bed at the end of a busy day.
His stomach clenched at the memory of the awful things he’d said to her on their last call.
As if to taunt him, a familiar face shone through in one of the posts.
He zoomed in to see Misty looking strong, vivacious, and beautiful amidst a group of other women.
He rifled through the rest to get a better idea of how she was doing and what she was up to.
With all this going on, he was surprised she’d gotten to call or text him at all.
A deeper, more unpleasant feeling was rising up to combine with his regret about how he’d handled things with her.
It got worse as he scrolled further to see a lot of pre- or post-workout selfies, some of which he recognized from their sessions.
Here was the day she’d tried the ropes; that one was from the time she’d saluted him before going into a set of pushups.
He wanted to smile at the memories, but his stomach was twisted too tightly.
An incoming call from his sister burst on the screen, and he forced some cheer into his voice to answer. “Hey! What’s going on?”
“That’s what I want to know with you. Mom said you and Dad got into it last night. What happened?”
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “What do you want Miles to be when he grows up?”
Laura sounded surprised at the apparent change of subject. “I don’t know. I was planning on getting him into preschool first.”
“And isn’t that going to be the first thing some of these places ask at the interview? Humor me.”
A loud exhale filled Spencer’s ear. “I really don’t know or have any profession in mind for him.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d be worried if he wanted to be a manosphere influencer or go to work for an oil company, but that’s about it.
As long as he’s putting some good into the world, making enough money to support himself and have some fun, and is generally happy with how he spends his days, I don’t care what job he decides to do. ”
“Even if that’s not being an accountant?” His sister’s profession, and the sensible one his dad brought up when he ran out of ‘when I was your age’ stories.
“Even then. It’s worked out well for me because I like what I do all day, it’s decent money and good benefits, and my company has flexible hours and a hybrid environment that I’ve really appreciated lately. But it might not necessarily work for a lot of people. Where are you going with this?”
“Just wondering. Dad thinks I’m a failure because I don’t work an office job or live up to him when he was my age, and I finally had enough.”
“Oh, God. ‘When I was your age...’” Laura deepened her voice for the last sentence.
“He says that to you too?” Spencer had long assumed his sister would be off the hook for that after sticking with a corporate job, continuing to live close by, and giving their parents their first grandchild. The discovery that she wasn’t stirred him out of his stupor.
Laura sighed. “He does, and it drives me crazy how Dad comes at all this from his generation’s ideas of work and success, not necessarily how anyone our age chooses to define either. That’s what I tell myself so it doesn’t get me down, anyway.”
“Hm.” Spencer was too surprised by the revelation to contribute anything more insightful.
His sister was still talking. “Before Miles was born, Dad kept telling me he’d had two children by the time he was my age. But did it ever cross his mind that I didn’t want to be pregnant at that age? No.”
“That’s fucked up.” Beneath his outrage on his sister’s behalf, Spencer felt a flutter of validation.
First, Kurt’s reminders of this job’s relaxed dress code and generous benefits, then this girl coming specifically to him, now Laura’s experiences with their dad and hopes for her son.
.. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he’d feared.
The thought carried him through the rest of their conversation and buoyed him home at the end of the day.
But at the top of the stairs, he felt himself crashing physically and mentally.
Without making dinner, washing his face, or brushing his teeth, he retreated to the sleeping alcove, stripped off his gym clothes, and pulled the covers up.
He’d worry he was coming down with COVID or the flu, but he’d gotten his shots a month ago.
He turned over in bed and was struck by how much space he had to himself. How much did he really need? On the other hand, this bed was the right size for two. Preferably someone else around his height and who brought her own unique scent to the space.
He’d changed his sheets in the weeks since Misty had left for the combine, but the memory of her in his bed came back with startling clarity.
He thought back to seeing her dried hair fanned across the pillow, and her calm expression beneath it.
He’d never get tired of seeing her at peace like that.
..or looking triumphant after a challenging exercise. ..or in the throes of orgasm.
For a moment, the beautiful mental images warmed his heart and lifted his spirits. But all too soon, he remembered that those were just memories and not about to happen again. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotion, but a few tears slipped out.
He coughed out one sob, and it was as if a switch had flipped to open the floodgates.
As he cried, he was flooded with memories of being told he couldn’t compete anymore, awkward interactions with his kickboxing friends, Haley calling off the relationship, and the most miserable days at the insurance office.
It was as if it had all been waiting to be acknowledged and wasn’t going to be ignored again now that it had gotten his attention.
Soon, there wasn’t a tear left to shed, but his body still wracked with sobs.
He buried his face in the pillow so his neighbors wouldn’t hear him.