Pol Robinson - Open Water

by Pol Robinson

  “I’m sorry, Cass. You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “Um—” Cass cleared her throat. She spoke in short, brief sentences. It was easier to say it in shorter bursts. “No. It’s fine. My mom. She’s an alcoholic. I haven’t seen her since I was eight. She left me in our apartment one night and just...disappeared. Social services came. I think a neighbor complained of the smell or something. Anyway, they shipped me off to my uncle and his wife.”

  Saying nothing, Laura sat, her fingers gently playing with the curl that had tumbled across her knuckle. Cass let her head fall backward, silently encouraging Laura’s touch, sighing slightly as she continued.

  “They had two kids, my uncle and aunt. Have two kids I mean. Carl, he’s forty-something now. I haven’t heard from him in ages. He used to...well, let’s say he made it his mission in life to know I was unwanted in his house. I guess he’s married with kids of his own by now, God help them.” Cass swallowed and leaned into Laura’s gentle massage. “Nancy was the other kid. She was closer to my age, a year older. She was nice at first, but after Carl got to her a few times...well, it wasn’t pleasant. She e-mails me now, sometimes. We sort of got back in touch after my accident. I’m surprised she even knew about it, to be honest. And, to complete the picture, there’s my uncle, Marty, and his wife, Lisa. They were not at all pleased to have another mouth to feed, let alone the ‘no-good kid of that loser, waste of a sister’ of his. Toss in the last damning feature, me being gay.” Cass shrugged slightly. “I think me being a lesbian sort of vindicated them in some way: ‘Blood will out’ as my uncle says.” Cass was silent for a few minutes, then cleared her throat and lifted her head. She turned and caught Laura’s eye. “So, there you have it.” She shrugged, her expression saying it all.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I’m sorry anyway.” Laura swallowed, clearly angry. “How does someone throw away the gift of a beautiful child?” She shook her head. Her fingers clenched before she blew out a deep breath, her hands relaxing as she breathed out. As her hand stretched, her fingers tangled again in the ends of Cass’s hair. “I am sorry if talking about it made you upset.”

  “It doesn’t, not any more. It was a long time ago.” Cass knew that the tension in her voice belied her words, but really, it was the thing to say, wasn’t it?

  “Still. I am sorry.” Laura smiled down at her, her expression more open than any other time Cass had seen it. There was no pity there, only...concern. Concern for her, Cass, and that simple look helped. After a moment, Laura asked, “Um, how...well, how did you end up...”

  “Here? Rowing? I worked my ass off. Actually, I left my uncle’s when I was sixteen. I talked my way into a job at Camp Randall, the football stadium near the University of Wisconsin. After a few months of going back and forth from the farm to town, I talked a friend of mine from school—she was two years older—into getting an apartment. We shared expenses. I went to school and worked like crazy. Pretty soon I was working in the sports medicine office and I loved it. The PTs were great and the team trainers hung out there.” Cass shrugged. “I worked hard, some of the trainers wrote me nice letters and I got a scholarship to the UW.”

  “You rowed as an undergrad? How come we never met? Cal always thinks of Wisco as ‘little sisters.’”

  “Well, I didn’t really row till grad school, that was eight years after my degree. And,” Cass stopped, doing the math, “I’m a few years older than you are, I think, so...”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be thirty-one in a few weeks.”

  “Hmm. Happy birthday, early.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re not that much older, I’m only three behind you. Guess it was enough, though.”

  Cass shifted again, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. She turned herself and resettled her shoulder against Laura’s knees, accidentally dislodging Laura’s hand from her head in the process, and immediately missing the contact. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, focusing on the sounds of the garden around them. A small animal rustled the bushes nearby and a slight breeze moved the leaves above them, changing the shadows dancing below. Laura moved her leg slightly and Cass looked back at her. “I get one now, you know.”

  “One what?”

  “One question.” Cass twisted and rested her arm across the bench seat. She rested her chin against her fingers and raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Fair’s fair.”

  Laura’s eyes caught Cass’s and a slow smile spread across her face, and the effect was immediate. Cass’s heart sped up. The low afternoon sun lit the leaves around them, and the color brought out the intense green of Laura’s eyes. Oh, man. I need to back up here. I could get really, really lost in those eyes. She took a steadying breath and returned the smile, wondering at the almost hesitant expression on Laura’s face. Laura shrugged and gave a faint wink.

  “Sure. Bring it.”

  Cass studied her, searching Laura’s expression. Laura returned her gaze evenly, her expression curious, and just a tiny bit wary. She jumped when Cass suddenly stood and held out her hand. Automatically Laura reached out and let her companion tug her to her feet.

  “Hungry?”

  “That’s your question? What a waste. I’m disappointed in you.”

  Cass heard the tiny note of relief in Laura’s voice. “Nope. That didn’t count. I’m saving up.” She stood still, aware that her hand was still holding Laura’s. She felt like a schoolgirl on her first date, but she really didn’t want to let go. She waited for Laura to pull her hand free and was surprised when Laura instead swung their hands back and forth, pulling Cass back toward the gate. “Fine then. Save it up, ’cause yes, I’m hungry.”

  Cass kept her hand in Laura’s as they headed back to the residential area. As they walked, she considered the opportunity to ask Laura anything. Could she...did she dare ask about what she’d overheard in the gym? She didn’t want to risk their fledgling connection, but... Glancing up at the relaxed expression on Laura’s face, Cass tabled the idea for now, unwilling to ask anything that might chase away their enjoyment of the afternoon.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Hey, give me a hand with this, would you?” Sheila Adler called out to the room in general, hoping someone was inside to lend a hand.

  Cass looked up from her book and quickly jumped up and ran over to hold open the door. Boxes of all sizes threatened to wobble free of her grasp, and Cass tripped over the jumble of mattresses on the floor in an effort to save them. Together she and Sheila carried their load to the small TV alcove just off the main room, stacking the boxes against the walls. Sheila grunted as she dropped the largest of the packages to the floor. She placed her hands on her hips and leaned back, forcing her back to audibly pop. She smiled as Cass winced. As awful as they sounded, they both knew how good those bone-cracking stretches could be. Sheila glanced around as they returned to the common room.

  “Holy cow. You guys certainly have moved in out here.” Mattresses, mostly unmade, were strewn around the room, tucked into every available nook and cranny. Some grouped in pairs, others single and one or two set apart from the rest, the room was a patchwork quilt of bedding and pillows.

  “It’s been weird, but okay. At least there’s air here. I’ll bet the guys don’t have to go through this.”

  Sheila scratched her head and shook it in disgust. “No, dammit. Their dorms are perfect. It’s only us and the Dutch, and let me tell you, they’re pretty pissed. The coaches’ launches have better A/C than your dorms,” she muttered, wiping her brow. She was referring to the large, shallow-draft boats she and her assistants used to coach the teams while on the water.

  Sheila dropped tiredly onto one of the overstuffed chairs, propping up her feet on the edge of a nearby footrest. Toeing off her sneakers, the coach leaned her head back against the seat with a sigh. She glanced over to where Cass was folding herself into a corne
r of the long couch.

  “How about you? How are you holding up?”

  “You mean with the dorm thing?” Cass shrugged one shoulder. “Fine, I guess. It’s not really an issue. I mean, at night when I’m here, I sleep, you know? I’m so wasted by the end of the day that it would take a lot to wake me.”

  “Good.” Sheila lifted her head to study Cass, quietly assessing her.

  Her long, measuring look didn’t pass unnoticed, and Cass met her gaze squarely, her expression open. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Sheila dropped her head back again. “Okay, not ‘nothing,’ but it’s not anything. I want to know how you’re doing. With the training, with the team, with...adjusting. You kind of hit the ground running here, and I haven’t had as much chance as I’d like to talk.” She tilted her head from side to side, stretching her neck and enjoying the rare opportunity to just sit and relax with one of her athletes.

  An Olympian herself, “back in the day,” as her charges occasionally teased her, Sheila was well acquainted with the pressure her women were under every day. The scrutiny of not only members of the international press, but also the sponsors, the coaches, their own families, and, perhaps most of all, themselves. Nobody was harder on an athlete than the athlete herself. That’s what made them who they were. The best of the elite. “Gods and goddesses among us,” as one newspaper headline proclaimed this morning. Walking examples of what everyone aspired to be. Young, fit, beautiful and perfect, or as near as possible, specimens of humanity at its finest. Too bad everyone around them wasn’t as...pure. Or as good an example. Sheila waited for Cass to answer her question, and when it was apparent that she wouldn’t, Sheila tried again. “So, really. How are you? I really want to know, Cass.” She waved a carefully lazy hand toward Cass. “You, the leg, how’s your head. Are you in the game? Ready to go? Anything I should know about?”

  She dropped her arm to her side and waited. One of the hardest things she’d had to learn as a coach was how to get her athletes to open up. To admit to...needing. They were, all of them, and she counted herself among them in this case, such classic type A’s. Driven, determined, goal-oriented. So focused on the result that the “self” often fell by the wayside. Getting any of them to come to her was sometimes like pulling teeth, and she knew instinctively that Cass Flynn fit that type to a T. So she sat bonelessly in the chair, very much alert and waiting for Cass’s answer, her eyes mostly closed, carefully keeping still. She didn’t yet have a handle on Cass, but she really needed to know how the newest team member was doing, both professionally and personally. She didn’t move as Cass stretched and flexed her leg, instead watching the limb move smoothly despite the massive scarring that crisscrossed the tanned skin.

  “Oh.” Cass was quiet for a minute, then spoke up again. Her words were slow to come, almost hesitant. “I’m fine. Honestly. The leg’s good—better, in fact, than I would have thought possible, given the amount of work we’ve been doing. I feel good here...right, you know?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “I mean, yeah, the first few days were a bit...rocky, but now...yeah, I’m good.”

  “Good.” Sheila would take “good,” for now. She was mostly listening to what Cass didn’t say. Rather, how she sounded. And to Sheila’s mind, Cass sounded, well, good. Confident, relaxed, or as much as was possible in this highly charged atmosphere. They sat together in silence for a few more minutes before Sheila grunted and pulled herself upright. “Well, since you’re so ‘good,’” and she made air quotes as she stretched again and shot a teasing look at Cass. “You can help me sort out some things.”

  “Um, sure. Are we talking literally or figuratively?”

  “Literally. Come on. Our racing uniforms just came. Took them long enough, these things were supposed to be delivered before we transitioned to Beijing. Give me a hand separating them out, would you?”

  “Oh, very cool. I’ve been looking forward to getting mine.”

  In tandem, they opened boxes and began the sorting process. After a minute Cass spoke up, “You know, I realize it’s probably really nerdy, but...well, I’m really excited to get the uniform.” She blushed, the color rising up her fair skin.

  Sheila raised an eyebrow at Cass, smiling at the bright flush coloring Cass’s face and neck.

  Cass shrugged. “I know, sorry. I keep expecting it to...I don’t know, wear off. Usually it’s the rookies who go gaga over their uniforms. At this level, we’re supposed to be, well, over it, I guess.”

  “It’s not nerdy, and I’ll tell you a secret. No less than nine of your teammates have asked me when these were going to arrive.” Sheila glanced around at the empty if cluttered room then leaned in to say conspiratorially, “And, truth time here, I still get an incredible thrill when I put on the team jacket.” Slightly embarrassed herself, Sheila’s shrug echoed Cass’s earlier one. “What can I say? I love wearing that Team USA logo.”

  Cass looked at Sheila, “It never gets old, does it?”

  “It hasn’t yet.”

  The two exchanged companionable smiles as they continued their work. Sheila was glad that it had been Cass she’d found to help her. She had a better handle on her now, a better understanding of how Cass fit with the whole.

  For the next two hours, Cass helped Sheila sort the long-awaited uniforms. She bagged and labeled as Sheila called out names and tossed the Lycra unitard and accompanying shorts, polo shirt and jacket toward her. The two chatted about the upcoming races and their primary competition, and Cass enjoyed the opportunity to get to know her coach a bit more. Finally, with everything bagged and awaiting the return of the athletes from their free afternoon, Cass grabbed a bottle of water for each of them and led Sheila out onto the roof.

  “I love coming up here, smog and all.” She settled herself on the low wall that bordered the rooftop, her legs dangling over the edge. “Welcome to my space.”

  “Quite a view.” Sheila leaned forward and peered over the edge before stepping back to look over the city and newly landscaped parkland before her.

  “Yeah.” Cass pointed out the landmarks she knew. “Over there’s the restaurant block.” She laughed quietly. “I have to say, I haven’t been able to find much in the way of real Chinese food, other than the place Sarah’s dad took us. Oh, and the one night out with the girls from the eight.” She nodded toward the restaurant block. “Do you know there’s even a Panda Express over there?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope.” Cass pointed past the restaurants to the edge of the official Olympic area. “See over there? Laura and I were at that little park the other day and on the way back we decided to grab some dinner. Since the food place was closer than the residential area, we stopped in. You wouldn’t believe it, Coach. Baja, Panda, there’s even a Tommy’s!”

  Sheila said nothing, just raised an eyebrow. It went without saying that eating that sort of food, even on a day off, would not help you stay in condition.

  Cass laughed. “No worries, Coach. It was all fast food, so we just came back here. Laura said you’d make us do extra circuits at the gym if you caught us eating junk!”

  “I’m not that bad. You know what you can and can’t do to remain effective. However, I am not above the occasional ‘I told you so’ when it’s warranted.” Her dark eyes studied Cass a moment, her expression curious. “So. You and Laura have become friends?”

  Cass shuffled her feet and looked down. She turned away from the city, swinging her legs around and then standing to rest her butt against the wall. “Yes,” she said finally, slowly, as if still thinking about it. “We’re friends. At least, I think so. Sometimes...” Cass turned to face her coach, her eyes troubled. “We have these moments. You know? When we’re talking and we get really close and it feels...I don’t know. Great. Then, she just closes off. I can never tell if it’s something I said, or did, or...It’s frustrating.”

  Sheila was silent as Cass turned around again, bending and resting her arms on the low wall, her chin
resting on one fist. She sighed and drained her water bottle while Cass waited for her response. She leaned forward and mirrored Cass’s pose on the wall. “I’m pretty sure it’s not you, Cass. Or, if it is, it’s not you, but something, someone you remind her of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sheila hesitated, then said quietly, “It’s not my story to tell. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask her.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll just ask one thing, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I trust that you know this, but I need to say it.” Sheila waited until Cass turned to face her. “Don’t ask her until after tomorrow’s time trials, okay?” She straightened up, stretching again. “I’m asking not just as her coach, knowing she’s got an important event tomorrow. I’m asking as a friend of hers. There’s a lot there, and it would be hard for her to put it aside and then race.”

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Cass turned away again to lean on the wall, this time turning her eyes in the direction of the boathouses. Sheila followed her gaze, both looking toward a venue they had no hope of seeing from this distance. As the afternoon sun faded into the painted sky of early evening, Sheila considered the woman beside her. There was a lot to Cass Flynn, and, despite the upset to the team and ripples losing a team member had caused, Sheila was glad of the accident that had brought Cass to them now. She was good for them, Sheila realized. Good for the double scull team and good for the squad. And perhaps for one of them, more than just good.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The soft breeze did little to ease the sweltering heat still oppressing the village, but Cass turned her face toward it anyway. Eyes closed, she listened to the sounds of the city below her; muffled now in the deepest, stillest part of the night, that hour or so between darkness and dawn, when it seems the whole world is fast asleep. From the distant waterfront, Cass could faintly hear the soft chiming of the bells on the bows of the local boats as they danced in the harbor, teased by the incoming tide.