Maternity Leave

by Trish Felice Cohen

  “Okay, so I have to cancel my clients for a month, fly to California, follow a race in a car for six hours each day then do nine massages each evening…for free.”

  “I thought you liked being the team massage therapist at pro races,” I said plaintively.

  “I do, when I get paid,” Danny responded.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you. Unfortunately, I’m entering the four weeks of maternity leave where I don’t earn any money, but I’ll pay you back. I promise. Name your price.”

  Danny started calculating the tab out loud. “Let’s see, nine massages a day for twenty three days at seventy per massage, plus a four hundred dollar plane ticket. That’s going to cost you about fifteen grand.”

  “Yeah, right. What do you usually charge?”

  “A thousand bucks a week plus travel costs. It would be about thirty-five hundred or so.”

  “I’ll do you one better. I’ll give you five grand,” I said. “Thanks so much. Really, this is a dream come true and I couldn’t do it without you.” That rate was actually more than fair, which absolved my guilt. He rarely made half that over three weeks in Tampa and he loves working stage races.

  “No problem. It’ll be fun.”

  “Thanks again.”

  My celebration over this little coup was interrupted by a call from John. “Come get this dog before I kill it,” he threatened.

  Oh no, Sonny again. The potential hostage was putting my entire plan in jeopardy.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s howling, digging, and humping, and Mom and Dad are putting a ton of pressure on us to give him back to them. If we leave the doggy door open at night, he goes outside and howls. If we shut the doggy door, our dogs pee in the house.”

  “Then potty train your dogs,” I suggested.

  “They are potty trained, when the doggy door is open. Don’t you have another friend who can watch him for the next month?”

  “I’ll get back to you, but hold onto him until I get back to you,” I said frantically searching my mind for a solution. “I’ll figure something out.”

  I hung up and called Danny again, completely abandoning my plan to not take advantage of him. “Hey, Jenna again. How would you like to drive to California?”

  “Drive? You’re joking. Why would I do that?”

  “Well, the Sonny issue has resurfaced.” I explained the problem. “I was hoping you could drive him here.”

  “That’s like a sixty hour drive,” Danny pointed out.

  “Try going via Vermont to Colorado.”

  “What are you going to do with Sonny while you race?”

  “He can sit in the car with Erica,” I said, trying to convince myself that that would be okay.

  “Does Erica know that?”

  “Not yet. We’ll figure that out later. I’ll put him in a muzzle and a straightjacket for three weeks if I have to. It’s better than ‘the farm’ and I’m not missing this race.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you back in a little bit. I need to grab a dog and drive across the country right now.”

  I was now sure that Danny was in love with me. “Thanks! I’ll rent you a car. Then you can return it here, use my car during the race, and we can drive back together.”

  “You mean I drive back while you sleep in the passenger’s seat?”

  “Pretty much,” I replied, acknowledging how well Danny knew me by now. It’s times like these that I am frustrated at myself for not being interested in Danny.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Danny said.

  “Call me from the road if you get bored.”

  “Oh, you’ll get a call,” Danny said, “You better start saving material to entertain me with during this drive.”

  “Will do, but don’t be afraid to grab a few CDs, maybe an audio book or two.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I called both of my parents on the drive from Colorado to California. Dad first.

  “Hey Dad, still mad at me?”

  “I’m not mad,” he said flatly. “I’m concerned and I’m not going to stop being concerned until you’re in Tampa and the statute of limitations runs on your fraudulent insurance claim.” He was getting mad now.

  “It’s not that bad. I’m on a team now and I’m staying with them instead of by myself. I’m being careful on the bike and no one at my office has a clue. I won’t be arrested.” I don’t think he wanted to hear about my issue with Sarah and her crazy son that I might have to marry in order to keep my secret.

  “Will you just do me a favor?” he asked.

  “Depends. I’m going to race,” I said.

  “Wear a motorcycle helmet.”

  “I’ll wear a cycling helmet,” I responded, marveling at his request.

  “A motorcycle helmet protects your face. I’d rather you were in one of those.”

  “A motorcycle helmet weighs four pounds and has no ventilation. My cycling helmet is just over a half of a pound and has twenty vents. My neck won’t be able to support a motorcycle helmet for one hundred and fifty hours of riding and even if it could, I’d pass out from heat. There’s no way.”

  “What about a mouth guard?” he suggested.

  “Nope. Won’t be able to breathe.”

  “I have a client who designs helmets for sports. He made a wrestling helmet for some guy so he could wrestle with a broken jaw. Same for basketball. What if I have him make you one?”

  “I don’t think that’ll work. I need to wear my sunglasses. If I don’t, I could get a bug in my eye and crash. If you want to make a cycling helmet and face mask that is lightweight, ventilated, and allows me to breathe and wear glasses go for it, but I doubt it will be wearable. Even if it is, it won’t be ready within four days. What else is new?” I asked, trying to change the topic.

  “Nothing much,” Dad said. “We can take Sonny back if you want. We won’t give him away. Though I’d rather John and Julie keep him so that I can continue to sleep at night. It’s impossible with that dog, he hogs the entire bed and cries all night if you don’t let him on the bed.”

  Shit, I thought. That would have been good to know yesterday before Sonny was half way through Texas. “Yeah, he’s a good little snuggler,” I said. “Thanks, but don’t worry, a friend is watching him. I love you Dad.”

  “I love you, too, Jenna.”

  I called Mom next. “Hi Mom.”

  “Hey, did you make up with Dad yet?” she said in a concerned voice, clearly forgetting that we had a rift as well.

  “Yes, I’m working on you now,” I offered.

  “Really? Are you sure you’re not lying about that?” Mom said sarcastically.

  I chuckled. “Sorry. I was just trying to get you to stop worrying. I didn’t mean to be a liar.”

  “You have a ways to go before I stop worrying.”

  “Relax. I’ll be fine.”

  “It makes me more nervous when you say that.” Mom says that every time I tell her to “relax.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll be fine though. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Be careful,” she said.

  I got off the phone just as Danny was buzzing in. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Hey, yourself. How are you doing?” Danny asked.

  “Good,” I said without much conviction. “Are you still in Texas?”

  “Yeah. It’s a long-ass state. How are your parents?”

  “Putty in my hands, just like everyone,” I replied.

  “You really do have a gift.”

  “How’s Sonny?” I asked.

  “Lazy. He hasn’t had his eyes open the entire trip except for the ten minutes he licked his ass.”

  “That’s not good,” I said. “He’ll be ready to play when you’re ready to sleep.”

  “Looking forward to it. I think I’m going to pull off the road and sleep now. I should get to California in two days or so.”

  “Bye Danny. See you then if I don’t talk to you before.”

  * * *

&n
bsp; I arrived in San Diego three days before the Tour de West. I was looking forward to staying in a hotel instead of camping, but it was not to be. Team Sunshine Cycling was on a tight budget and would rely on host housing throughout the entire Tour. Essentially, every day of the race would take us to a new city and in each of these cities, we would stay at the house of a stranger who had graciously offered their home to a team of nine women, as well as their eighteen bikes, coach, massage therapist, and mechanic.

  Our first host house, where we would stay until Sunday’s prologue, was a mansion owned by a couple named Grant. The Grants had offered the third floor of their house to us because it was empty except for when their sixteen grandchildren visited throughout the year. After hauling my suitcase and cycling gear to the third floor, I walked into a room that looked like an army barracks at Neverland Ranch. A row of sixteen twin-sized beds lined the room, eight on each side. A miniature railroad track weaved between and under each of the beds and a train circled the track continually. In between the train track and tiny beds, the room was littered with stuffed animals, rocking horses, toy cars, Barbies, costume jewelry, Legos, a fake kitchen set, toy guns and a bunch of other toys that I didn’t recognize but wished I had seen on my trip to Toys “R” Us.

  Alyssa was unpacking her bag in the furthest corner of the room when I walked in. I walked towards her, dropped my suitcase next to hers and said, “Do you even fit on one of those beds?”

  Alyssa had obviously not yet realized that at five-ten, she would be sleeping in the fetal position until we moved into the next house. “Shit,” she said. “This is the nicest house I’ve ever been in and now I’m dreading the next four days.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “it’s not like we can complain either.”

  “Do you have any water?” Alyssa asked. “There’s no bathroom up here and I don’t feel like going downstairs and back up again.”

  “No,” I said, “but let me check the fridge.” I stopped unpacking and walked over towards the fake kiddy refrigerator a few feet from my bag and opened it, pretending to look for water. A bunch of maggots and fruit flies greeted me. “Shit!” I said, “One of the grandkids put real food in there. Who knows how long that’s been rotting.”

  We laughed, then quickly chose the two furthest beds from the vermin in the refrigerator. “So when did you start cycling?” I asked to strike up a conversation while we were unpacking.

  “When I was a kid. My dad actually raced professionally throughout Europe, so I got into it at a young age.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You’re a former Junior National Champion, lost interest in the sport when you went to college and recently got back into it.”

  “Close,” she answered. She was lying on the bed talking to me, her feet dangling off the end. “I was a National Junior Champion three times and World Junior Champion once. I got burned out in high school and took it up again five years ago.”

  Cycling is not a sport kids pick up in the neighborhood or at a local little league. Unless your parents buy you a three thousand dollar bike and drive you to races all over the state, you can’t be a kid cyclist. There are very few child cyclists, and even fewer female child cyclists. Of the fourteen cyclists I know that race in the Junior category, five have been National Junior Champions and two have been World Champions. Generally, these kids develop monster egos at age nine, then have an identity crisis in their late teens when they start racing with adults and get their asses handed to them. Alyssa didn’t seem to be an exception.

  “Why did you get back into it?” I asked.

  “To get in shape. Because it’s something I’m good at. I like it now that there isn’t a ton of pressure. I teach middle school and race in the summer when I’m off.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that,” I said. “I hate my job and could use summers off.”

  “I heard you’re a lawyer. You’d be crazy to give that up to be a teacher. The pay is shit and the students and parents are pretty shitty too.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said, as I sat down on my bed which was inches from Alyssa’s. “But you’re only around once and you can’t buy a minute. I want my summers off to race.”

  “You seem to have a pretty good vacation policy,” Alyssa observed.

  “I’m on a leave of absence.” I changed the topic and asked, “Did you ride yet today?”

  “No, want to go for a spin?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Let’s check out the prologue course.”

  We rode two easy hours, including three reviews of the course, then returned to the mansion. I was practically giddy to have Alyssa as a friend. We really hit it off in the short time we spent together and I was so thankful to have a friend. I was really worried it was going to be Brenda and the team against me. Now I wouldn’t be isolated and Alyssa seemed pretty awesome.

  Danny and Sonny were at the Grants when we returned. Sonny went ape shit when he saw me. I tried to pet him, but he kept barking with excitement and running around in circles. Danny grabbed a ball out of the car and threw it to him. Sonny disappeared and I used that minute of quiet and calm to say hi to Danny and thank him again. He looked exhausted after the ride but said he was psyched to be here.

  I introduced Danny to Alyssa and then directed Danny to our quarters. He looked like he really needed to crash. At the foot of the stairs I pointed up and said, “Third floor.” I should have taken him up myself, but there was no way I was climbing those stairs until I had to. It sounds insane considering I was about to race almost two thousand miles, but climbing stairs was a huge waste of energy I planned to avoid as much as possible over the next four days. Besides, I wanted to hang out with Sonny since I hadn’t seen him in almost two months. I told Danny to come back down and hang out when he was unpacked and rested.

  Sonny was happy to be out of the car. I continued to play fetch with him for about ten more minutes in the Grants’ backyard. Then he got tired and decided to sniff every blade of grass and pee on every other blade of grass. While he was occupied, I climbed into the Grants’ hammock. My phone rang. It was my office. I let it go to voice mail, then checked the message. It was David. He called to ask me about a case and left his number for me two times. Each time spelling each number out slowly.

  I couldn’t believe it. First, it was so nice of him to check on me two months after my fetus and I were hit by a car. Second, I had been out of the office so long that I didn’t even remember the name of the case he was talking about let alone the facts. There was no way I could discuss it intelligently. Finally, what a dumbass. The number he gave me was the number for the entire office, including mine, and he’d given it to me twice. I decided to call him back later, after I was sure he’d left the office, and leave him a message telling him I didn’t recall the file but would look into it next month when I returned from maternity leave.

  * * *

  The days before the Tour de West passed very slowly. We were in top shape and eager to start racing, but none of us wanted to waste any energy. Those of us who arrived in San Diego early just sat around all day other than the occasional training ride or to get food.

  On Friday, Erica arrived. Prior to her arrival, I had been taking Sonny up to the third floor each evening, where he would hog three-fourths of my twin bed. I was scared shitless that Erica would put the kibosh on Sonny. I didn’t want to board him in a kennel for the next three weeks, then drive back from Seattle to San Diego after the race to get him. Fortunately, Erica turned out to be a dog lover and really liked Sonny. We didn’t even discuss the matter.

  The prologue of the Tour de West began at high noon on Sunday. It was the biggest women’s cycling event that had ever taken place. The entire 1.8 mile course was lined with fans, mostly locals, who wanted to see what cycling was all about. I’m sure they walked away disappointed, as watching one woman after another pass you at thirty second intervals 117 times in a row is not very entertaining.

  The course was rolling and there was a tailwind, so the times were
very fast. I placed fourteenth with a time of just under four minutes; putting me twenty seconds out of first place and thirty seconds out of last place. Such time gaps were negligible with 1,853 miles left to go.

  The next day, Stage 1, was the first serious stage. Just before the start I was in the staging area twenty feet from the start line trying to stay as calm as possible so as to not burn up nervous energy. I looked around and noted that I was in a sea of women who were virtually indistinguishable as they were all young and tan, with skinny arms, bulging quads and hamstrings, and glasses and helmets disguising a good portion of their features. It was hard not to be intimidated.

  Once we were permitted to move forward to the start line, there was a mad dash to get as close to the front as possible. We were packed in so tight that I could barely see anything aside from the girl directly in front of me and the ones on either side of me. I had lost my teammates in the shuffle forward and did not have enough room to even twist my body to find them. The noise from the racers and the crowd only added to the confusion. I decided to just relax and concentrate on hearing the start gun. Minutes later, it went off and I heard the sound of over one hundred women clipping into their pedals at the same time. I got chills.

  I got over that sentimentality quickly. The pace was fast from the gun, particularly for the first hour as riders tried to escape from the pack. Every time someone darted out, the pace increased to catch them. Once the catch was made, someone else sprinted ahead. Finally, four women got away that the big teams did not seem inclined to chase. The pace slowed and steadied until thirty miles before the finish, when the big teams organized and chased the break. All four women in the break were exhausted from working in the wind all day. The catch was made a mile before the finish in Long Beach, one hundred and twelve miles from San Diego, and ended in a field sprint.

  The final sprint was slightly downhill and since it involved one hundred and seventeen women full of caffeine and adrenaline there was, not surprisingly, a crash. It was on the left side of the pack and I easily avoided it because I was far out of the mix as usual. There’s a rule in stage races that if there’s a crash within three kilometers of the finish, anyone who gets caught out by the crash is given the same time as the peloton. So, I didn’t worry about losing time even though I was at a full stop behind the crash as the winner, a woman from Germany, crossed the line with her arms in the air.