Megan groaned and sat back in frustration even as the rest of the audience erupted in cheers. The other team’s jammer had made it through, the first lead jammer of the game, and Helen followed it up with a spectacular fall.
Thankfully, the fall just looked dramatic, and Helen got up quickly, grinning and waving at the crowd. She pushed past the pack and spun her wheels down the track, trying to overtake the other team’s jammer, but she wasn’t quite fast enough.
Megan itched to be back on the track. She’d gone almost a week without any skating. She’d seen the doctor the day before, and the doctor had said she could skate slowly, so—after making Megan swear up and down she was telling the truth about the doctor’s orders—Shelly had let her take a couple of laps before tonight’s game. But now that the game had started, she was benched, and all she could do was watch her team play and feel incredibly frustrated that she wasn’t joining them.
She’d come to the practices (partly to support her team, partly to at least see what they were doing, and partly because she had nothing else to do with her evenings), but those hadn’t been nearly as frustrating. She loved skating, but what she really loved about roller derby was the adrenaline—the fight. That was what she was missing tonight.
She didn’t have to be missing it, of course.
Gianna was in the audience, too; Megan had seen her when the team had skated out, before she sat down. She wondered whether Rolling in the Streets didn’t have a game tonight, but of course, most teams didn’t have a match every single Saturday night.
She hated the idea of Gianna missing a derby match to come see her. The idea was ridiculous—Gianna knew where she lived and where she worked; she could have come to visit any time during the week—but it stuck with her nonetheless.
Helen was passing the other team’s jammer now, having passed half the pack. Megan yelled and screamed, but her heart wasn’t in it as much.
Seconds later, the jam ended with the teams tied, 5-5. It was a promising start. Megan knew her team could win without her; it meant a little more work for the other jammers, but with her out, there were still thirteen people to take their turns on the track. They were all good skaters, and they could do it without her.
She just wished they didn’t have to.
She glanced over her shoulder at Gianna, who was cheering with the rest of the crowd as the teams took their places for the next jam, then turned back quickly so she wouldn’t see her looking. Gianna obviously knew she was there, but hadn’t tried to speak to her.
They hadn’t seen each other since the hospital. They’d texted a little bit—Gianna had offered to come over and help Megan out, but she turned down the offer. Apparently Gianna hadn’t been offended by that, because they’d been trading some light banter every day since.
Megan did have to wonder why Gianna wasn’t more upset. Megan had practically accused her of being just like her abusive ex. But maybe Gianna was really angry, and that’s why she hadn’t come to see Megan. Until now.
Or maybe Gianna was just being polite and respecting Megan’s wishes.
She wished she wouldn’t.
Her stomach twisted with guilt as she tried to focus on the match. Or was that more anxiety about not being out there? She was rolling her feet back and forth in her skates, wishing she could push away from the bench and onto the track, but she knew that would only be trouble.
Kristine was playing jammer now and doing better than Helen had. Her short stature was an advantage Megan never had. That was something fun to watch.
Megan was able to lose herself in derby for the rest of the game—until halftime came, and with it the break. She slumped back in her seat as the crowd surged around her. Even if she felt like eating, there was no way she could push through the crowd to get some snacks with her injured arm.
A hand came down hard on her uninjured shoulder, making her jump. “What the hell are you doing on skates?”
Gianna. Megan turned around and gave her stare back for her heavy-browed stare. “I saw the doctor yesterday. She said skating slowly was okay. I’m healing well.”
“And you’ve been listening to the doctor?”
“Yes. Shelly wouldn’t let me on skates until today. And she would hardly believe me at first. I should’ve gotten a damn note.”
She wanted to sound bitter, furious that Gianna’s interference was keeping her off her skates and out of the match. But she just sounded petulant. Like a child. Gianna probably got that all the time. A kindergarten teacher would know just how to deal with it.
But Gianna just sat down behind Megan. “I’m glad you’re healing. I hope it keeps it up. It’s strange to see you benched at a match.”
Megan looked away. “It’s strange for me, too.”
“Do you blame me?” In the crowd noise, Gianna’s voice was quiet enough to almost be lost.
But Megan had heard it, and she didn’t want to pretend otherwise. “No. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Is that what your ex used to say after she hit you?”
Megan winced. “No. She—sometimes, she’d say I… Yes.” She didn’t want to get into it, especially not here, in the middle of the crowd. Her inability to get on the track and help win the game echoed the powerlessness she’d felt in her relationship with Cari.
But it was true. Sometimes, Cari had said that. Megan hadn’t meant to echo her words.
“She was lying.” Gianna’s voice was so soft that it would have been lost in the crowd noise if she hadn’t leaned forward to whisper in Megan’s ear. “I’m telling you the truth. I mean everything I say, even if not everything I do on skates, babe.”
“I know.” Megan wasn’t sure if Gianna had heard her. The crowd was settling down. The match was about to start again.
When she looked back again, just as the whistle blew, Gianna was no longer behind her.
Chapter 11
At least Megan’s Sunday routine didn’t have to change due to injury. Like always, she was in pajamas (a loose T-shirt and shorts), eating takeout because she couldn’t do much cooking, and watching Netflix. And drinking beer. Tara had brought her a consolatory six-pack, and she hadn’t felt like touching any of it until today.
She’d gone to the afterparty the night before, but hadn’t enjoyed herself. Gianna hadn’t come; of course, since her team wasn’t playing that night, she probably hadn’t been invited.
Megan wasn’t sure whether talking some more would have helped or not. What she really wanted was for Gianna to apologize for taking over, and she hadn’t yet.
Gianna was probably waiting for Megan to apologize for having Shelly drive her home. But that wasn’t going to happen.
She was almost done with her fourth beer and her third season of Orphan Black when her phone chimed at her. She picked it up to see a new text notification from a number that wasn’t in her contacts. She was just tipsy enough to swipe it open to see the full text.
Hi. I know it’s been a while. I’ve been having a hard time.
Megan paused her show and stared at the text. Was it Gianna? Not unless she had a new number. Who would be texting her so familiarly when she didn’t know their number?
Her eyes flicked up to the number at the top of the screen. It looked familiar, but she never memorized people’s numbers, just put them in her contacts. Who could it be?
Maybe it was a wrong number.
She kept staring at the phone until another text appeared. But I’m ready to forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it.
Her heart stuttered.
Cari.
She’d deleted the number from her contacts the day after Cari left, realizing she wasn’t coming back. Megan didn’t want to leave herself the temptation of texting Cari and begging. Obviously, Cari hadn’t done the same thing. So she’d chosen not to contact Megan.
Until today.
Megan put her phone down to try to allow herself to think, but she just stared at an old derby poster she had framed on her wall, not taking any of it
in. What did Cari want? To forgive her, of course. But why now? And did she really want forgiveness?
She had no idea what to say. Yes, actually I meant it? Thanks followed by an emoji that would accurately encapsulate her feelings?
There was no emoji for that.
Once again, her phone chimed while she was trying (and failing) to think. She couldn’t help looking at it again.
Meet up tonight? I’ll come to Zonia Cantina around 6. We can talk.
Megan took a shaky breath. Now she had to respond. She could ignore it until later and pretend that she just hadn’t been paying attention to her phone, but Cari knew her better than that—she always had her phone on her. Unless she was playing roller derby. She could give that as her excuse for taking a long time to respond.
She glanced at her shoulder. But Cari would see the sling and want to know what was going on, and then Megan would have to tell her that she hadn’t really been at practice.
And Cari would use the injury as another excuse to try to get her to quit roller derby.
Megan flattened her lips, picked up her phone, and typed out a response. No. It’s over. I meant it when I hit you back.
Then she deleted the whole thing without sending it and sat back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
She hadn’t actually meant it. She hadn’t even known what she was doing. It was just that one night Cari was yelling at her for coming home late from derby practice. Megan had been pissed, because Cari’s anger was unreasonable. Derby sometimes ran late. There was nothing she could do about it. And it was too important for her to leave early.
“More important than me?” Cari had screamed.
“Yes,” Megan had said, not thinking, just reacting.
Cari had slapped her in the face. It wasn’t the first time, and it wasn’t the worst she’d done. But this time Megan had reacted, too tired to think, still revved up from practice.
She’d swung out with her elbow, her pointy, bony elbow, which she couldn’t use in roller derby—and slammed Cari in the stomach with it.
Cari had staggered back several steps, bumping into the refrigerator, where she’d claimed Megan’s dinner was waiting. Megan just stood there for a moment, stunned and horrified at what she’d done.
But when she tried to run forward, to apologize and see whether there would be a bruise, Cari had shoved her away. She’d grabbed her jacket and her purse, leaving behind the cake she’d brought to share with Megan, and walked out.
It was their two-year anniversary.
Megan had run after her, but she hadn’t looked back. She’d gotten in her car and driven away. Megan had texted her, then called her dozens of times that night, but she’d gotten no response.
The next night had been a Friday. She’d passed a miserable day at work, then gone back to trying to contact Cari. By the end of the night, though, she realized that Cari was not going to respond to her; she had left for good. She’d deleted Cari’s number.
She’d been even more intense than usual the next day at practice, and they’d won that night’s game by a significant margin. Shelly had pulled her aside to congratulate her, but warn her that if she continued playing with such intensity, she was going to hurt herself. That was when Megan had broken down and told her that she’d split up with her girlfriend.
She didn’t tell anyone about the hitting. That was too much. She wasn’t ready to have her friends look at her differently.
She knew she shouldn’t have done it. She could have really hurt Cari that way. It was a total overreaction, and she’d been sick about it for weeks.
Megan realized that she was crying, even just remembering that time. She had to talk to Cari. If only to just get some closure, to make sure Cari really meant it. That would be enough.
She picked up her phone. OK, she texted. I’ll see you then.
Megan tried to be late, to pretend that she didn’t have a care in the world and that Cari was far down her priorities list, but when she arrived at Zonia Cantina—dressed in one of Cari’s favorite dresses, despite the fiddly zipper, and with no makeup on—she glanced at the clock and saw that she was ten minutes early.
The bar was four blocks from Megan’s apartment, not the nearest bar, but the best one within a mile’s walk. She and Cari had been here a lot when they were together. It was a good place to meet and talk, with good drinks.
Right now she wondered if it was too close, or maybe too far away.
Cari wasn’t there yet. Megan smoothed her dress nervously and sat at one of the tiny tables. A server Megan recognized came to take her order; she nearly ordered a beer, then realized she should have the greatest possible number of wits about her when talking to Cari, and ordered ginger ale instead.
As soon as the waitress left she wondered if she should have ordered food. It was dinnertime—had Cari been planning to eat here, or was it just drinks? When they’d been together, they’d usually come here after dinner. Megan wasn’t hungry, since she’d been eating takeout all day, but maybe…
No. She was overthinking this. Even if she and Cari did end up ordering food, the polite thing to do would be to wait for Cari anyway.
She took a deep breath, wiped her sweaty palms on her dress, and kept an eye on the door, trying to act calm for when Cari arrived.
A woman at the bar got up and walked past her, smiling and putting a swish in her step as she approached. Megan just stared blankly at her. The woman’s smile faded, and she passed without comment.
Of course, the woman had been trying to flirt. Megan felt like smacking herself in the head. With Cari on the mind, she hadn’t even thought about other girls.
But it was for the best that she not flirt back. Right now she couldn’t handle any kind of encounter with another woman.
Her ginger ale arrived. She didn’t drink any of it. What would Cari think when she saw Megan with something nonalcoholic? Would she see Megan as weak, unable to handle talking to her?
Maybe she should order a drink. She tried to remember what the wine that Gianna had ordered for them had been. But they probably wouldn’t have that here.
Before she could think herself into oblivion on that question, the door swung open and Cari walked inside. She spotted Megan immediately, smiling and walking toward her. Megan felt her heart flutter as she stood automatically.
Cari reached out, and Megan took her hand. Cari squeezed it. “I’m happy to see you again, Meggie.” The same pet name she’d always used. It felt like she was squeezing Megan’s heart as well as her hand when she said it. Megan could only swallow and nod.
They sat down, and Cari glanced around, then turned back to Megan. “I’m sorry I was out of touch for so long, but… well, you can understand my reaction, I hope.”
Megan nodded again. “Of course.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
A million other responses were going through her head. Obviously, I can’t understand it, because I didn’t leave any of the times you hit me. No, I can’t understand, because I only gave you what I was getting. Golden rule, right? Yes, absolutely, I understand leaving me without a word. I just love it when girls do that to me.
But she didn’t say any of them.
“It’s been really difficult,” Cari continued. “I didn’t know if I could ever get past what you did to me. Time has helped, though.”
“Time apart.” Megan was starting to feel sick. Had Cari not even meant to dump her, just take a break? Would that make what she’d done with Gianna cheating?
“Yes.” The waitress returned, and Cari ordered a cocktail. So she hadn’t come for dinner. Good. But she was perfectly willing to drink hard liquor. She wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon.
Maybe she wasn’t planning to drive at all the rest of the evening.
“I know it’s been hard for you, too,” Cari said. “But all is forgiven now, all right?” She smiled and held her hand out across the table.
Megan reached out and took her hand, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t know if sh
e could.
Agreeing that all was forgiven would mean that she was forgiving Cari, too. She wasn’t ready to do that. She didn’t know if she ever would be. Could you forgive someone for something they weren’t sorry for?
Megan had apologized over and over again, but that was months ago now. She wasn’t sorry anymore. Or was she?
In her pocket, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, but didn’t take it out. She hoped it wasn’t Bonnie again. That was the last person she could deal with right now.
Cari was still smiling at her, but the smile had begun to look a bit fixed. She was waiting for Megan’s response.
“I’ll forgive you if you can genuinely apologize,” Megan said.
The smile slipped a bit. Cari’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t I already?”
“You apologized for being out of touch.” And Megan didn’t even know if she’d meant it. Was it a real apology when you followed it right up with an excuse and complaints about how difficult it had been for you?
“I’m sorry I left without a word. I’m sorry I got so angry. I know I was overreacting.” Cari squeezed her hand. “We have to talk about that roller derby stuff, though. Is that what happened to your arm?”
“Yes. It’s not as bad as it looks.” Megan had almost forgotten about her injury.
The waitress came with Cari’s drink, and she let go of Megan’s hand to sip it. Megan took the opportunity to quickly slip her phone out of her pocket. Two texts from Gianna appeared on her screen.
Are you doing OK?
I’m not giving you up this easily. Please talk to me.
“Meggie, I’m trying to talk to you. Save the phone for later.”
Megan hastily shoved her phone back into her pocket, her heart beating hard. Cari had put down her drink and her eyes were flashing. “Sorry.”
“Who was it?”
“Someone from roller derby.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t entirely a lie, either. And none of her possible answers would mollify Cari.
If she’d said it was Bonnie or one of her parents, that would have been all right (though Cari and Bonnie had always hated each other). But it would also have been a complete lie, and she didn’t know if that was worth it. Cari would find out eventually that she was lying, and then there would be…
Crash Into You Page 11
