by Pol Robinson
In the stillness, she reflected on yesterday’s events. The traffic on the water had been increasing in the marina area, so much so that the Olympic committee had had to ask the Chinese security forces to increase the safety zone for the rowers as they practiced. Yesterday’s time trials had been cut short when an overzealous camera crew had strayed too close to the racing lanes and swamped one of the Chinese singles as they neared the finish. Luckily, nobody had been injured, but the complaints from the teams had been enough to galvanize the committee into action. Finally.
Restless and on edge about her own heats coming in the morning, Cass had tossed and turned before finally creeping past her sleeping teammates and up to the roof of the building, looking for relief from the omnipresent heat, and for a little solitude. It had been hard to find any time alone since the entire squad had moved into the common room of their floor. The air conditioning in their individual rooms was still out and looked to remain so for the duration.
While she’d enjoyed the enforced togetherness as a chance to really bond with her teammates, especially Laura, Cass was looking for a little quiet time. She was solitary by nature and the constant company and forced closeness was an additional strain. She had not heard anyone stir as she made her careful way through the maze of mattresses on the floor, so she was surprised now to hear soft footfalls behind her. Turning, she saw Laura’s distinctive figure emerge from the darkness. Cass smiled softly and whispered, “Hi.”
“Hi back.” Laura glanced around, squinting in the pre-dawn darkness. “Why are we whispering, is there anyone else up here?”
“’Cause it’s really quiet and no, nobody’s up here, just me. And you.”
“Yeah, I saw you leave and when you didn’t come back, I...well, I was worried.” Laura stepped closer, her eyes on Cass’s face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Cass smiled into Laura’s eyes, enjoying the current of excitement she felt when Laura was near. Her fingers itched to reach out, to touch the strong face in front of her, but she stilled them, afraid of losing the tenuous connection they had now, of being rejected. Cass broke away from Laura’s gaze, turning to catch the slight breeze again. “I, um, couldn’t sleep.”
Laura moved next to her, leaning her butt against the low rooftop wall. Her shoulder brushed Cass’s as they stared in opposite directions into the night. “Nerves? Or the heat?”
“No. Yes. Both, I guess.”
“You’ll be great, I know it.” Laura gently bumped Cass’s shoulder. “Your times the last two weeks were amazing, weren’t they?” Laura waited a moment. “Coach was actually smiling after the heats, so you know she’s excited. You two set new personal bests yesterday, despite the chaos on the water. My boat’s started calling yours the ‘little engine that could,’ you know.”
“I know. Just, well, nerves. You get them too, don’t you?” Without waiting for Laura’s response, Cass continued, “I want us to do well. All of us.”
“You will be great, you know,” Laura repeated her earlier assurance. “I only hope our eight goes as well tomorrow.”
“Oh, no fear of that. You all tore up the course in practice. You’ll win, I’m sure of it.” Cass lifted her eyes to meet Laura’s gaze in the darkness. It was easier here, in the dark, just to look at her friend. She did not have to hide how she felt in the dark and was not worried that Laura would see too much. Laura had opened up a lot in the last two weeks and they were on the way to being good friends, despite the taller woman’s tendency to pull back from anything too personal. Anyone who got too close. Every time Cass tried to get Laura to talk about herself the walls came up again. It seemed like for every step forward there was one back. It was frustrating, but everything in her told her that it was worth it to take those steps with Laura.
Cass replayed the coach’s words, turning them over and over in her mind. It’s not my story to tell, you’ll have to ask her. Was it worth the risk of their friendship, she wondered? She was intrigued, by Laura and by how she felt when they were together. Or apart. Laura’s face, or her eyes, or her smile, would pop up in her mind when she least expected it. Each time sending that tingling feeling straight to her stomach. Was it worth it? Yes, Cass thought. It was. She was.
“Thanks.” Laura nudged Cass with her shoulder. “Don’t overthink this stuff, Cass. You’ll psych yourself right out of the regatta.”
Cass sighed softly. “I just…” She paused. “I want it so much, though, you know?”
“I do.” Something in Laura’s voice pulled at Cass, made her ache just a little, as Laura continued. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Wanting something so much, almost too much, knowing that one small thing could keep it from you.”
Cass wondered if Laura were still talking about the upcoming races. She hoped not. She didn’t want to read too much into their time together that day at the park, or into the brief conversations they’d had since. While she wasn’t at all sure how Laura felt about her, Cass knew how she, herself, felt and was afraid of it. It was not logical to feel for somebody what she felt for Laura this fast, especially in this situation. It’s the emotion of the Olympics, the excitement. It’s just you. She hasn’t hinted either way... “Laura?” Cass suddenly heard herself speaking and started in surprise. She hadn’t meant to speak at all.
“Yeah?” Laura’s soft voice was silken in the night and sent a shiver down Cass’s spine.
“I...um...” Oh shit! Nice, chicken, now what? “I’m really glad you...I mean, that we started over. That we’ve become friends. It means a lot to me.” Cass trailed off, sure her blush was lighting up the roof like a beacon.
Laura shifted and Cass felt Laura’s fingers slide down her arm to tangle with her own. Laura’s bigger, calloused hand enveloped hers and Cass felt the warmth of her touch spread from her hand to encompass her body. Laura gently squeezed once before letting go and easing Cass into a hug. “So am I, Cass. So am I.”
Cass settled against the solid warmth of Laura’s body.Forgetting the still, humid heat of the night and her nervousness about the upcoming races, she just let herself slide deeper into the embrace. It felt like coming home. She fit here, tucked into Laura’s arms, against the steady beat of Laura’s heart. Here she was safe and the woman holding her...solid. Laura’s hands tightened against her back and pulled her even closer. Cass let out a sigh and wrapped her arms around Laura’s solid strength. This is good. This...I could get used to. Guess I do have a hint as to how she feels.
“So, have you thought of your question yet?”
“Hmm?” Cass burrowed in a bit deeper into the hug trying to figure out what question Laura was talking about. Their quiet moment in the park a few days earlier popped into her thoughts and she considered briefly before answering, “Yup, but not now, okay?” she asked, mindful of her promise to their coach.
“Mmh.”
How long they stood there, Cass had no idea. Eventually, she felt Laura lift her head from where it lay resting atop her own and gently release her. Laura slid her hands down along Cass’s arms, then pushed off the wall and tugged Cass toward to rooftop door.
“C’mon, sport. Let’s get some sleep. Plenty of time for hugging after you win next week.”
In the darkness, Cass smiled and enjoyed the warmth of her hand held in Laura’s. “Yes, Coach.” She squeezed the hand holding hers once more.
“Besides,” Cass added, “you need your rest more than I do. You have a race to win tomorrow.”
Hands clasped loosely together, they left the dark stillness of the city behind them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The water rippled softly, indicating the tiny bit of wind across the course. It was enough to cool but not enough to impede the racers, and Cass hoped it stayed that way for the race. Though she couldn’t see it, she knew what was happening at the start. The team in the eight, ready to go, Amy asking them to count off, then telling them to hold steady. Behind Amy, at the stern, would be the volunteer’s hands, preventing the sleek scull from drif
ting away from the start. The race director would be checking the teams off while Amy was performing one last check of her crew and craft. Cass had never rowed a cox’d boat, a boat directed by a coxswain, but she knew the procedure. Amy would be running through her own mental checklist, calling out the seat number of each woman and nodding sharply to their “ready” response. The rate counter on the cox-box would be set and ready, and Amy would make one left and right push with her feet to clear the tiny rudder one last time. Then she’d settle in, her eyes on the boat’s leader, the stroke. On Laura.
The crowd around her shifted, allowing Cass and her group access to the rail that circled the runoff area. The move also now gave Cass an unimpeded view of the giant big screen positioned at the end of the course, and Cass sucked in a sharp breath as she looked up at the giant screen. As if the camera crew had read her thoughts, there, larger than life, was a close-up of Laura’s tight, focused features. She couldn’t hear what Laura said, but Cass saw her lips move in response to something, probably Amy’s check. Even on the pixilated screen, the intensity of Laura’s green eyes shined through and her gaze flicked up once, directly into the camera. Directly into Cass. Cass felt her heart stutter for a second before beating faster than before. She wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her shorts and took a steadying breath.
The camera’s focus pulled back, giving them all a clear view of the start line. Lined up precisely at the start, bright white numbers mounted on the bow just behind the bow ball, the boats sat sleek and ready. The quivers of the boats as the crews moved gave the illusion that the sculls were eager to race. Cass’s eyes stayed on Laura’s boat, and she watched as Laura rolled her shoulders in her familiar pattern—once forward, once back, and once more forward—before settling her oar gently back in the water, causing barely a ripple in the glass-like surface.
Volunteers lay along the end of the starting docks, forearms hanging down, hands gently cradling the aft deck and holding the boats in place. Their job was to prevent any drift that might give a team an advantage or cause a false start.
The faint commands of the starter could be heard over the incessant chatter of the announcers’ voices coming from the huge speakers near the stands. “Ready all crews,” was followed by the roll call of the lanes. When the announcer said, “Lane number three, the United States,” Amy’s response at the start was drowned out by the noise of her teammates on this end of the course cheering loudly, but Cass watched as Amy’s hand rose in response.
Cass was concentrating intently on the images on the screen, to the exclusion of everything else around her. The camera, which had been zoomed tightly in on the faces of the Chinese crew, suddenly moved with dizzying speed to focus on the U.S. boat. The look of fierce concentration on Laura’s face was simply breathtaking, and Cass found herself mesmerized as she gazed into the larger-than-life features. Once again Laura’s gaze flickered up from where it was fixed on Amy’s, up to the camera, and Cass again felt the power of those green eyes shoot through her. It felt for a second as if Laura had looked up at her, directly into her eyes. In the next instant, Laura’s gaze was back on Amy’s face, her focus complete.
Cass shook her head and then jumped as a buzzer sounded. It echoed the one at the start and she watched as suddenly all boats were away, each crew digging in for the power ten, ten hard and fast strokes at the start to establish position. Cass hated watching the camera coverage, because the forced perspective always looked skewed. She wished they’d just do aerial shots.
The boats surged forward, bobbing in and out of the water as the teams settled into their rhythms, lifting up as the women pulled powerfully through the water and settling again as they finished their stroke sequence. Up and down, up and down, Amy bobbing along at the back, a bright red speck tucked into the stern. The U.S. boat quickly flashed past the first buoy-marker and Cass glanced at the lap timer, then blinked. Wow. She was pretty certain this event would set a new course record.
As the chase boats, referees and camera boats jockeyed for position around the back end of the course, Cass kept one eye on the giant screen and another on the coach. The benefit of having a cox’d boat was that the coach heard what the rowers in the U.S. boat did. Amy’s cox-box also offered a one-way broadcast on a specific channel and coach’s headset was tuned to that channel. So were a set of referees, just to make sure the units hadn’t been modified to receive signals from any coach. Or anyone else.
She saw Coach nod in satisfaction when the eight surged forward from the start, then, ten strokes in, settle into the rhythm they’d practiced. Tuning out the cheers and encouraging shouts echoing from the stands, Cass bent all of her focus to the slim blue craft she could now just make out in the distance. God, from this end it looked like an impossibly long course! The U.S. eight was running straight and true, positioned precisely in the center of the lane. From what she could see on the screen, it looked as if the women were in perfect sync. For a single instant she felt herself swept up again in the simple beauty of her sport. It was so often easy to lose sight of what had drawn her to the sport in the first place; the elegant lines of the scull, the swinging sweep of the oars, the sleek knife-edged cut the craft made through the water. That often got lost in the work of the sport.
The noise of the crowd around her sharply drew Cass’s focus back. The Chinese were going wild. The top two finishers of this race would go on to the medal round, and the long red Chinese eight was surging forward as the sculls neared the halfway mark. Even from the odd warped perspective of the camera crews racing alongside the crews, Cass could see that this challenge from China would be difficult to fend off. She glanced at Coach’s face and was surprised by the look of...what? Fear? Anger? Something wasn’t right. Cass leaned close to her and asked, “What’s wrong, Coach?”
Sheila shook her head, her expression tight, her eyes on the women just now coming into focus on this end of the course. Her voice tight, tense, she answered, “Not sure. Amy’s giving more directional commands. Not just stroke counts.” The coach’s words were choppy, her attention on the tiny blue speck that was the U.S. eight craft. Suddenly she shook her head and uttered, “Damn it!”
Cass looked from her to the giant screen and felt her heart drop. The U.S. boat was off-center in the lane, just slightly off course. What the hell was happening on the water? Just as quickly as they’d moved off center they were back on again, and Cass saw them correct again. Saw them.
Saw the port side dig a bit deeper to correct.
Saw the starboard side pull again to correct.
Oh crap.
Cass looked again to Sheila’s face and suddenly understood. Amy had no rudder control! Without the rudder to steer their course, she had to rely solely on the arm strength and evenness of the crew’s strokes. She couldn’t make any adjustments, couldn’t keep them true. That meant extra work for her and for the women pulling the boat forward with every stroke.
Once again the long blue craft drifted off-center and once again Amy’s sharp command to the women in her boat fixed the problem. Cass suddenly wondered if the broken rudder were slowing the boat down.
As if she’d said it out loud, Sheila muttered, “Something’s wrong with that boat.” She leaned to her right and waved an assistant over. “Make sure you have a video camera on that boat from now on until I tell you to stop!” The assistant nodded as Sheila continued. “Keep the focus on Amy and try to catch any movement by the rudder cable.” Again the assistant nodded. Sheila turned to Cass. “I’m going to grab an official, I want this lodged immediately.” She took two steps away then swore softly, turning back to Cass. Ripping the headphones off of her head she slapped them into Cass’s hands. “Listen! Call my cell if anything...more...happens.”
Stunned, Cass could only nod. She fumbled with the headset and finally got it settled onto her head in time to hear Amy’s sharp command, “Power ten in two, ready? One. Two!” Cass watched the U.S. boat surge forward again with the new effort. Now she had a steady running com
mentary in her ear, that single voice drowning out the voices around her.
“Steady, girls! Steady! Two more to go, keep it up, you’ve got it! Pull! Port side, easy two, now steady on. Good rhythm. We’re on the way, girls! Keep steady, don’t slip! Six! Watch your angle. Less of the splash, everyone! Fifteen-hundred to go. We pull again in ten, I’ll count them for you. And ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, power ten in two and ready? One, two! Hard on it, girls! Hard! Pull hard! Pull!”
Cass had to remind herself to breathe as she listened, her eyes glued to the boats hurtling down the course toward them. She flicked her gaze back and forth between the image on the screen and the boats slicing through the calm water. The crowd noise was overwhelming as once again the overhead camera focused on the sleek red Chinese boat charging forward. But, as the red boat moved, so too did the white Swiss scull, the women determined not to be left out of the race. Again the U.S. boat slipped slightly off of the centerline of the lane, this time to port, and Amy’s sharp correction blasted through the headset, mixed seamlessly with her commands.
“One thousand to go! Starb’d! Steady-on, watch your position! Port, push on! All crew, drive hard, pull hard! You’ve got this, you have to do it, you have to pull. This is our time, our race! Nobody takes that from us! Five and six, put your backs into it! Stepping up the rate in two. Ready? One, two! Up two, ladies, up two! It’s time, let’s roll! Counting down to the last power ten in five, and...five, four, three...ready? One, two!”
If Amy’s voice had been sharp before, now it was piercing in Cass’s ear. She could hear an echo of it out on the water, too. Amy’s voice drowning in a sea of other coxswains’ yells, and all overpowered by the shouts and screams of the fans. Where before they had seemed to crawl to the finish, now they were flying down the lanes. Amy had them on true now and they were surging forward with the other boats.