The Real

by James Cole

  “I’ve been training,” maintained Jeremy. “If you don’t believe I won, just ask him.”

  Jeremy motioned toward the approaching race official, easily recognized as such by his zebra-striped shirt. Jeremy thought he might be coming over to offer congratulations or instructions for the awards ceremony.

  “Jeremy Spires?” he asked as he glanced down at Jeremy’s race number.

  “That’s me,” Jeremy replied proudly. “Could you please tell my girlfriend that I won the overall? She doesn’t believe me.”

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” said the referee. “You actually did not win due to an assessed two minute time penalty.”

  Jeremy stared at the man in disbelief. “What did I do? Did y’all get me for drafting?”

  Like most of the regional races, the Fryin’ Bacon Triathlon was a non-drafting event. Riding too close behind a competitor on the bike was a common and sometimes unavoidable infraction, especially in a crowded field.

  “Actually, it’s your headphones,” replied the somber official. “Certainly you know music players are against the rules.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but it’s my job to enforce the rules.” The referee dismissed himself with a cliché: “Better luck next time.”

  Jeremy angrily pumped the keg while Jinni held the hose to the lips of the cheap plastic cups. They sat down under the same tree they had the year before and sipped their beers. Jinni tried to lift his spirits by calling attention to the significance of this particular spot in the world.

  She asked, “Do you remember what it felt like sitting here the day we met?”

  “I do,” he replied with a distracted smile.

  He should have reminisced with Jinni of that bright, sunny day, one year removed. He should have told her how sweet it had been, sitting under this tree getting to know his soul mate and the most beautiful girl in the world. He should have told Jinni how that moment marked a sea change in his life and how the ensuing year had been the best of times.

  “It’s not like the music gave me any advantage,” he complained, not able to get past the time penalty. “It’s just some stupid insurance requirement.”

  Jinni tried to console him. “It’s really not fair, but you know,” she said, “in reality, you won. Maybe not officially, but you finished the race ahead of everyone else.”

  He smiled tentatively. She was right. He shouldn’t sweat the technicalities.

  “I guess I did, didn’t I?”

  “I’ve just got one burning question,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “How’d you do it?”

  “That’s what’s so strange,” he replied. “I didn’t really change the way I prepared for this race. If anything, I’ve been lax for the last two or three weeks.”

  “You must have done something differently,” Jinni said. “Nobody improves that much without being intentional about it.”

  “I don’t have an explanation.”

  “You haven’t been doping, have you?” She cast a suspicious look his way.

  “Oh, come on now,” he said, bothered at the charge. “You know me better than that, Jinni.”

  “I just don’t understand how you did it.”

  “Me, neither.” Jeremy stood up and stretched. “You want another beer?” he asked.

  “Maybe just one,” she replied.

  Chapter 9

  Wednesday, October 1

  One year ago Jinni persuaded him to undergo an endurance performance test at the University Human Fitness Lab. At the time, Jeremy had been training hard for about a year and a half, time enough to reach a high fitness level. He learned more than he cared to know about the various parameters of cardiovascular fitness. One such marker, known as the maximum oxygen uptake or VO2 max, is considered the ultimate indicator of one’s overall cardiovascular fitness. His test results were just what one would expect, typical for a young male of average genetic endowment for endurance and above average conditioning.

  Curious to uncover the reasons behind his surprising performance at the recent triathlon, Jeremy scheduled a return trip to the lab. He dreaded the test itself, a grueling ordeal on the treadmill in which the subject is pushed to exhaustion at ever-increasing work-loads. While the physical exertion was bad enough, Jeremy especially disliked the confining mask they placed over his mouth and nose to measure his oxygen exchange. The mask made him feel more than a little claustrophobic, but at least he knew what to expect this time.

  It took 16 minutes to reach his breaking point, about five minutes longer than he had endured the first go-round. The lone technician, an aloof and seemingly disinterested co-ed who looked as if she had never exercised a day in her life, perked up about ten minutes into Jeremy’s evaluation.

  “Hey, Dr. Calhoun,” she called out to an unseen coworker. “Come take a look at this.”

  An older man, obviously fit and dressed in all-white tennis attire, ambled over to peer over her shoulder at the monitor. After a bit, he asked the technician, “Are you sure you’ve got him hooked up right?”

  Because of his labored breathing and the oxygen-uptake mask, Jeremy could not verbally respond to the next question posed by Dr. Calhoun, though the good doctor certainly had no difficulty in reading the why-do-you-ask expression pasted on Jeremy’s face.

  “By any chance, are you related to Lance Armstrong?”

  Afterwards, as soon as Jeremy got outside, he punched in from easy memory Jinni’s work number.

  “Six-C,” answered a hurried-sounding female voice.

  “Is Jinni available please?” Jeremy asked.

  “She’s with a patient, can you hold?”

  “Yes,” he replied, and the earpiece filled with a strings version of Barry Manilow’s Mandy.

  Jeremy’s mind drifted back to the day he met Jinni.

  He was halfway through the run leg of last year’s Fryin’ Bacon Triathlon. Even though the race had begun early, there was no denying the brutality of the wet, mid-summer heat. Jeremy raced against himself, fighting the ever-strengthening urge to let up and coast to the finish. As he caved in to his lazy desires, he heard the clump, clump of soft footfalls behind him. He did not turn to look but listened, and in a bit he could hear her rhythmic breathing. One minute later she pulled even with him. She wore traditional female triathlete attire, basically a skin-tight sports bikini. Perspiration dripped from the tips of her blonde hair, and her fit body glowed in the early morning sunshine. He suddenly felt stronger and upped his pace to match hers.

  “Hi,” she said sweetly.

  He asked, “How are you?”

  “Hot,” she panted.

  “I’m Jeremy,” he announced, seizing the opportunity of the moment.

  “Jinni,” she replied. Her smile lingered.

  “C’mon!” she admonished, as she had begun to pull ahead. “Push it!”

  Her encouragement induced a spurt of adrenaline and he caught back up. Jinni pushed the pace constantly, and even though it was tough keeping up, Jeremy’s interest in her had been stoked. One half hour later they crossed the finish line together.

  Afterwards, they sat in the grass under a shade tree drinking the complimentary beer and shooting the breeze. He remembered how knowledgeable Jinni had seemed. It was she who had, after their first date, encouraged him to set up his initial endurance test at the performance lab. He couldn’t wait to give her the details of the test just completed.

  The telephone on-hold music cut off abruptly.

  “This is Jinni,” she said in her official, at-work phone voice.

  “Cut the crap,” he said. “It’s just me.”

  “Hey there,” she said cheerfully. “What’s up?”

  “I just left the performance lab. You’ll never believe what my VO2 max tested as.”

  “What was it before?” asked Jinni.

  “54.”

  “And now? she asked.

  “Guess
.”

  “I don’t know – 61?”

  “Higher.”

  “You know I’m busy,” she said impatiently. “Just tell me.”

  “89,” he replied dramatically.

  “Say again,” she said, after a pause.

  Carefully enunciating the words, he said, “Eighty-nine milliliters per minute per kilogram.”

  “That’s impossible,” she said. “Nobody has a VO2 max that high.”

  “Dr. Calhoun said mine is among the highest ever observed,” he boasted, “my only company being a handful of world-class athletes, mostly professional bicyclists and cross-country skiers.”

  “But you are no world-class athlete,” she said pointedly. “A person has to be born with that kind of engine. No amount of training can produce an increase like you’ve experienced. Something’s not right.”

  “Actually,” Jeremy confessed, “Dr. Calhoun, the lab director, requested that I come back for a second test, personally administered by him. Apparently, he did not believe the results either.”

  “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” asked Jinni.

  “I don’t know,” replied Jeremy. “Maybe I’ll just sit back and watch my legend grow.”

  In actuality, a plan had already begun to ferment in Jeremy’s mind and it didn’t include Dr. Calhoun. Maybe Jeremy could investigate this anomaly himself.

  After all, he thought, I’m a scientist too. If there’s something interesting to be discovered here, why let someone else get all the credit?

  Chapter 10

  Wednesday, October 8

  Two weeks had passed since Jeremy and June first met, and almost every day they spent at least some time together working. On several occasions, tonight included, their work had stretched toward midnight.

  “At this rate I’ll graduate at least a year ahead of schedule,” Jeremy muttered.

  “What do you mean?” asked June.

  “Before I met you, I thought I worked pretty hard, but you, June, have shown me what true dedication is.”

  “Oh, look at the time,” she said. “I’m sorry. If you need to go home, I can finish up here.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt that you could.” With a smile he joked, “What, are you trying to get rid of me now?”

  When they first began working together, June had been shy, but as she got to know Jeremy better, she loosened up considerably. In fact, they were quickly becoming good friends. He gleaned scientific knowledge from her while she queried him on details of the English language and American culture and customs. Jeremy always went the extra mile to explain his comments, especially his jokes.

  “You know I’m just kidding, right?” he asked. “I don’t really think you are trying to get rid of me.”

  “How little you know,” she replied.

  “Very funny, June. Thanks a lot.”

  Her eyes twinkled mightily.

  “I guess I had that coming.”

  June was a quick study. Perhaps she didn’t need for him to explain his jokes anymore.

  With a slam of a door and the clop, clop of dress shoes, Jeremy was alerted to Dr. Cain’s presence as he walked across the hall and into the main lab. Jeremy checked the clock on the wall. It was half past midnight.

  “Hello June – Jeremy,” he said and nodded to each in turn. “How’s the virus prep coming along?”

  Dr. Cain, his wiry physique emphasized by the stark whiteness of his full-length lab coat, stood a head taller than Jeremy. His facial features were similarly elongated and framed by his most physically striking feature, an unruly mop of bright red hair.

  “Fine, Dr. Cain,” June answered. “We should have viable viral stock in approximately two weeks.”

  “Wonderful,” he replied with genuine enthusiasm. “And Jeremy, I trust June has been her usual cheerful self?”

  “It’s been a pleasure working with her,” Jeremy replied and smiled at June and her ensuing, familiar blush. “I have come to realize, however, that she’s quite the taskmaster – seems all I do these days – and nights – is work.”

  Dr. Cain cracked an officious smile, nodded and said, “Keep up the good work.”

  Jeremy watched with interest as Dr. Cain retrieved a stock buffer solution from the lab and walked out.

  “Where is he going with that solution?” Jeremy asked in a baffled tone.

  June laughed. “He has a small, private lab adjoining his office.”

  “None of the other professors have that, do they?”

  “I suppose that’s just one of the perks of being the executive director,” June explained.

  Jeremy scratched his head. “I’m surprised Dr. Cain still conducts experiments himself,” he said. “Why wouldn’t he simply ask one of his many underlings to do the work for him?”

  “I don’t know,” replied June. “Maybe he likes getting his hands dirty now and then.”

  *****

  Almost all of Jeremy’s and June’s time together was spent at the Biotech center. Tonight, however, the routine deviated.

  “I wouldn’t mind getting out of this building for a while,” Jeremy suggested. “I’ve been craving something sweet all night. Are you hungry?”

  They finished off their fattening snacks in the car at the drive-in, Jeremy his chocolate milkshake, and June, a huge banana split. On a whim, Jeremy suggested they take a ride out to the lake.

  “It’s beautiful here. Look how the water shimmers,” June remarked as they pulled up at Sticks River Landing. “How did I not know about this place?”

  “Maybe it’s because you haven’t been hanging out with the right people,” he replied.

  “I really don’t – how do you say – hang out with anyone. I am always so busy. But it is nice out here, Jeremy. Thank you for bringing me.”

  In the lab, Jeremy and June were only coworkers. Out here, unexpectedly, they became more: young members of the opposite sex, alone and in the dark.

  Jeremy broke an uncomfortable silence with small talk. “What do you do for fun, June? Do you have hobbies?”

  “Sometimes I think maybe I concentrate too much on work. I like to read American novels but even that is, in part, to practice my English,” she replied sheepishly, as if her strong work ethic were a bad thing. “For exercise, I swim,” she added.

  Jeremy had one of those thoughts which can spontaneously reveal itself in one’s brain, zipping at the speed of light up from unconscious recesses to acknowledgment: And I would love to take you swimming, skinny-dipping in the cool black water of Sticks River Landing, right here, right now. It was the voice of the devil’s advocate.

  Wanting, but not wanting, to wade into those black depths, he only said, “I didn’t know that about you. Where do you swim?”

  “On campus, at the Aquatics Center.”

  “Really? Me too. I usually go a couple of times a week – especially if I have a triathlon coming up. I’m surprised we’ve never bumped into each other.”

  “I always swim early in the mornings, before class,” she explained.

  “That’s probably why,” said Jeremy. “I never go early. I’m lucky if I can drag myself out of bed in time for class.”

  June giggled like a teased schoolgirl. Jeremy began to wonder if she might be attracted to him. Was this June flirting?

  June further surprised him by asking, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  The battle lines within were drawn. Jeremy longed to answer no to her question and yes to his hormonal urges. A part of him wanted to lie and take advantage of the situation.

  The devil’s advocate sounded off again: Just one kiss. What can it hurt? Jeremy wavered, but in the end he could not do it. For Jinni’s sake, as well as for June’s, he would not.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I have a girlfriend. Her name is Jinni.”

  “How long have y’all been together?”

  Jeremy felt the disappointment of a challenge unmet but hid it in a smile at June’s mixture of Chinese accent and Southern colloquialisms. “We ju
st celebrated our one year anniversary,” he replied.

  “I bet she’s very beautiful,” June said in her unique, polite way.

  *****

  On the way back to town, the subject of his racing came up again. Jeremy told June of his unexpected results at the triathlon and also of the stunning improvement in his cardiovascular capacity as measured in the Human Fitness Lab.

  “There’s really no easy explanation for the new result. I had established a baseline of performance over three years. My times improved significantly over the course of the first year but leveled out after that – at least up until last Saturday,” he rambled. “There is no justification for the sudden jump in performance.”

  “That is interesting,” replied June. “Something must have changed.”

  “Something changed in me,” Jeremy said finally, “something that I had nothing to do with.”

  The statement hung in the air like a strange odor. Jeremy needed to explore this enigma – he just didn’t know exactly how. He had not intended to ask June tonight; indeed, he had not even settled in his mind that bringing her into this was the proper course of action. He wanted to pursue the project, but he needed expert help and June represented the logical choice. Her biochemical expertise complimented his, and she had access to the equipment essential for the in-depth study he envisioned. Additionally, Jeremy knew her to be dedicated, trustworthy and, unlike Tavalin, discreet. If they were going to do unauthorized research using materials and equipment that did not belong to them, it would have to be done in secret. Perhaps now, in the privacy of his car, he could feel her out.

  “June,” he began, “I have something I want to ask you.”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “But this has to stay between you and me.” Jeremy hesitated as their eyes locked in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

  Why did this feel like such a big deal?

  “What is it?” she prodded in the uncertainty of the moment.

  Just ask her.