Pol Robinson - Open Water

by Pol Robinson

  Returning to college eight years after getting her bachelor’s degree and being bitten by the rowing bug soon after, Cass had found herself in a world far different from the one she had experienced as an undergraduate. Discovering a gift for research and a love of a sport she’d always longed to try, she had thrown herself into both. Standings or rankings did not matter; she was not really trying for any team. She had just needed something to take her mind off her studies for a while, something that would keep her fit and allow her some time to relax. Rowing seemed the perfect sport.

  On a whim, she had gone to open tryouts for the University of Wisconsin team and nobody had been more surprised than she when she’d made it. She had tried several events before finding her niche as bowman in the double scull. By the end of her attendance at UW-Madison, Cass had her master’s in kinesiology, two National Championship medals under her belt and her eye set on the U.S. Rowing Training Camp and the Trials. One late night at the library, combined with a rainy drive back to her apartment, had brought those plans to a screaming, painful halt. She flashed back to that night, letting the pain of that moment fill her. Because it was that pain and despair that had driven her so hard to come back.

  Cass slowly swam back to consciousness, pushing through the miasma of medication-induced haze. The first sensations to penetrate were smell and sound. Hospital. She was in a hospital. The unmistakable antiseptic smell brought her further to the surface, accompanied by various sounds. As she became more aware, she began to categorize the sounds. The beep of the monitor above and behind her, the squeak of soft-soled shoes on waxed floors, a murmured conversation just outside of the door. With consciousness came increased awareness and...pain. Cass gasped and tried to reach down, anxious to know.

  “Shh, honey. Don’t move.”

  Blinking groggily, Cass turned her head and found the owner of the voice. A nurse was bent low over the rail, clearly trying to get Cass’s attention. “You awake now, honey?”

  “Mh-hm.” Blearily she blinked again, trying to bring the woman more clearly into focus. She tried again to reach down. She had to know. “M-my leg?”

  The nurse’s expression froze and with it Cass’s heart. She briskly twitched the blankets around Cass’s body straighter, her face grim. “I’m sorry. We called your...family.”

  Cass opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was terrified to ask. She could feel her leg, could feel pain. But, she’d read too of phantom pain and was certain that this was what she was feeling.

  “The doctor will be in to talk to you.”

  The look of pity on the woman’s face was almost too much for Cass to take. As the nurse stepped around the bed, Cass finally managed to ask, “How much did you take?”

  “Of what, honey?”

  “My leg.”

  “Oh, no. No, no, dear. It’s all there.” She hastily moved back around the bed and patted Cass’s shoulder.

  “I...it...it is? But,” Cass gaped sleepily at the nurse, trying to decipher the anger and pity she saw on the nurse’s face. “But you...what are you sorry about?”

  Her jaw set, the nurse turned her face away for a moment, then turned back again, her gray eyes almost fierce as they captured Cass’s gaze. “I’m sorry honey...the university gave us your family’s number.” The nurse looked uncomfortable. “Your aunt and uncle. They said they won’t be coming. But,” the nurse pasted on a falsely bright smile. “They wish you well.”

  Watching the clouds slide by below her, Cass struggled to push the memories aside. She knew the nurse had added that last part to be kind. Uncle Marty and Aunt Lisa had not sent their good wishes, of that she was certain. She shook her head as the unwanted memories crowded in.

  One of those “get it there in an hour” pizza guys had gone right through a light and into the side of her little car. During her recovery Cass had heard the nurses talking; it had taken the on-scene medics and firefighters more than thirty minutes to free her from the car. Days in the hospital, weeks in rehab recovering strength and feeling in her leg. A double-compound fracture they had called it. Even the words sounded harsh to her. She had not cared what they called it. All she had known was that the damage would likely ruin her chances to row again.

  It had taken a year—a year of the hardest work she had ever done. She had recovered from the initial surgery well, surprising the doctors with her ability to heal. The rest had been up to her. Hours of physical therapy, both supervised and unsupervised, had paid off. She had persisted despite cautions from her doctors and her therapists. Again her thoughts drifted.

  “What’s the rush, Cassie?”

  Cass scowled at the physical therapist assigned to her. She hated being called Cassie, especially by this woman, who had the manner of...well, she couldn’t really think of a good simile.

  “C’mon, Cassandra, you’re pushing too hard. It’s not like you have to train anymore, right?” The slightly mocking, condescending tone grated on Cass’s nerves, fueling her drive to work harder.

  “Look, Marta, why don’t you buzz off? I’m working here. I meet with the doctor on Monday and if she gives me the okay, I’m back in the shell.”

  Anger clouded the face of the therapist and Cass couldn’t help but react. She and her therapist had mixed like oil and water from day one. It was clear that Marta disliked working with her as much as Cass dreaded their sessions. She had overheard Marta asking to swap clients, but since this was her last student clinical rotation, she had not been successful. They were stuck with each other.

  “Fine. It’s not like you’re ever going to compete again. Good luck with your paddling.” With that parting shot, Marta had huffed off and that was the last Cass had seen of her. Her words had done the opposite of what the therapist had planned, Cass was sure. She’d driven herself harder, determined not to quit.

  As the drink cart rattled past, Cass pulled herself from her memories. This was why she hated long flights. Too much time to think. She’d been driving herself so intensely she’d been too exhausted to think. She yawned and stretched, feeling the familiar pull of the tight skin of her left leg.

  Three days, ten workouts and one doctor’s appointment after that therapy appointment and Cass was lowering herself into a beat-up practice shell with the help of Danny Thompson, UW’s assistant coach. Danny understood her need to get back into the shell, the drive and need to return to some sort of normal life. Cass did not hold any illusions that she’d be able to compete at any level again, she had just...needed to get back into a shell, to get back to something in her life that felt real to her. She had to prove, at least to herself, that she was not the quitter her mother was. That her aunt and uncle had repeatedly told her she was.

  Aside from the driving need to prove herself, Cass had simply missed it. The water. The shell. The...all of it, really, even the exhaustion of training hard. Several times during her self-imposed training and after a long workout, she had rowed herself out to the middle of Lake Mendota and just lain back, the oar handles carefully balanced in her hands, the blades turned and resting flat on the water. Gently pushing with her legs, she would slide the seat back in its track, stretch out and watch the storybook clouds float lazily across the sky, accompanied by the faint buzz of insects and the gentle slap of water as it danced along the hull of her shell. It was in those silent moments that she’d heard again that call for competition. Felt that pull.

  Danny had patiently paced her, pushed her and yelled when she’d needed it. Most of her friends had left town after graduation, headed off to new jobs and new lives with their new degrees. Cass stayed in Wisconsin, recovering from her injury and contemplating pursuing her doctorate. The insurance settlement by the pizza company and the driver’s personal coverage made it possible, if she was careful, to concentrate on getting back into shape without other distractions.

  Despite it being too late to be a part of this year’s Olympic Games, Cass had thrown herself into her training. Even now, she was not sure why she’d felt that dri
ving need to get back into shape. Whatever the reason, she had pushed herself and it had paid off. Eight months after her release from the hospital, Cass was back on her game; her race times equal to, or faster than, before her injury. The night Sheila Adler, head coach of the U.S. Women’s National Rowing Team, phoned her and asked her to attend the training camp in San Diego was one Cass would never forget. The days between that call and getting on the plane to China had passed in a haze of frantic activity.

  Six weeks of grueling training at the ARCO center in San Diego had made those lonely weeks of recovery and solo work at home seem like a waltz. An easy one. Heat after heat after heat against some of the best young collegiate athletes in the country had made Cass aware of every year she had on those women. But every ache had been worth it. Where they had youth and vitality, Cass added maturity and experience. And an unrelenting drive to win.

  The rumble of the drink cart in its return journey again brought Cass back to the present. Enough, she decided. That’s past. Now is...now. Smiling to herself over her not-so-profound philosophy, she pulled out her laptop and reviewed what she knew about the women she’d be joining in Beijing. Coach Adler had told her when she’d called to ask her to join the team that Amy Lindquist, coxswain of the eights crew, would be her roommate in the Olympic Village. Other than Amy, whom she’d met only briefly at an after-regatta dinner just days before her accident, Cass did not know many of the squad members well... Really, she only knew three or four and that was by reputation only. The rest of the team had been through the training center months before and they were already in Beijing prepping for the Games. She wished some of the team had been back in San Diego...at least her rowing partner, Sarah. It was going to be hard enough to fit in with a tight group of women, let alone learning to mesh her style with that of the other woman in her boat.

  Putting aside her nerves at both the prospect of fitting in with an unknown group of women and the upcoming regatta, Cass opened the secret little door in her heart for just a moment. I am an Olympian. I am going to compete in the Olympics. Carefully controlling her excitement again, Cass settled into her seat and gazed out at the ocean below. She’d been over the moon when the coaches told her to pack her bags for Beijing, that she’d made the cut. She’d made her dream come true and she’d prove to them all that she could do it.

  Chapter Three

  Moaning and sweating, Laura Kelly reached blindly in her sleep, her hand lifting off of the sheet only to fall limply at her side, fingers twitching. “No,” she mumbled, then turned over restlessly.

  Sheila Adler stood in the doorway of the little dorm room and considered her options. She was in a bind and needed someone to make the trip to Beijing Capital International Airport to pick up the team’s newest member, Cassandra Flynn. All of her assistants were out on the water or in the gym today, and Sheila had just been asked to coordinate a meeting between visiting parents and sponsors, and she had to attend. That left her with few choices. Laura Kelly was the Captain of the U.S. Squad and stroke of the eight-boat; making her the next logical choice for Sheila.

  On the bed, Laura moaned again and lifted her hand again, as if to ward off attack and Sheila shook her head. She wondered how long the nightmares had been going on. Maybe it had been a mistake to not assign Laura a roommate. When Laura moaned again, Sheila stepped forward and carefully rested a hand on her arm.

  “No! I didn’t mean it! I—” Laura jerked awake with a gasp.

  “Shh, Laura. Shh. It’s me, Sheila.” Sheila gave Laura a gentle shake, keeping her hand on her arm until the green eyes focused on her face. Slowly the wild-eyed fear began to slide away, replaced by the carefully blank expression Laura so often wore.

  “Okay?”

  At Laura’s nod, Sheila stepped back and sat on the chair opposite the bed. She watched Laura scrub her face and take a few breaths, giving her athlete time to settle.

  “I came by to ask if you’d make a run to the airport to pick up the newbie.”

  Clearly still shaken by her dream, Laura shook her head. “Can’t one of the assistants go?”

  Sheila tilted her head and studied Laura, watching her shake off the last of her nightmare. She should have been too tired to dream, Sheila thought. The way she’d been pushing herself since they’d transitioned to Beijing. First into the gym and the last out, first onto the water and last off, Laura should have been too exhausted. Maybe it was time to reconsider her approach. She knew what Laura had been through in the last year and thought that letting her work off that pain and stress in the gym and on the water would be the best way, but now...now she wondered if she’d done the right thing. Noting the dark circles and lines under Laura’s eyes, Sheila decided she hadn’t, and now was as good a time as any to change. She shook her head. “Nope. I’ve got everyone out today with the singles and quads and I can’t spare an assistant. The trainers are all over at the new site checking the new medical facility. I’ve got a parents and sponsors meeting. Come on, Laura. I want you to do this.”

  The coach waited as Laura stood and stretched, once again appreciating the magnificent physique of her lead rower for the big boat. Laura was in fantastic shape, at the peak of her physical conditioning. It was up to Sheila to see that she remained that way for the upcoming regatta, physically and mentally.

  Laura stretched again and blew out a long sigh. She met Sheila’s gaze for a long moment and then turned to pull fresh clothes from the small dresser nearby. “Yeah, okay. Can you write down her flight stuff for me? I’m gonna grab a shower.”

  “Sure.” Sheila stood and turned to leave. She stopped Laura on her way to the bathroom with a hand on her arm.

  “Laura?”

  “Yeah.”

  Everything about Laura screamed “don’t touch me, don’t ask me,” but Sheila did anyway. “I’m here if you need to talk, okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Laura pulled away and closed the bathroom door behind her, leaving Sheila staring after her, wondering when Laura would ever forgive herself. Or if she could.

  Chapter Four

  A sudden drop in cabin pressure made Cass’s ears pop, startling her out of her restless doze. She looked around, confused for a moment. Oh yeah...plane...Beijing...Olympics.

  Cass shifted in her seat, taking advantage of the extra room to spread out. Her unexpected bump to first class had had an added bonus—the space next to hers was empty, allowing her to spread out over two seats for the nonstop flight from San Diego to Beijing. Cass had been too excited to sleep on the first part of the flight. Later, she and Captain Landers had talked crew every chance the pilot had, Landers sharing her experiences as a sweep rower two decades earlier. Sweep rowers were typically bigger than single- or double- lightweight scullers like Cass, and Landers certainly fit the type. Cass had obliged the pilot’s request for an autograph, blushing the entire time. They had said goodbye midway through the flight, with Landers heading back to the flight deck and Cass trying to snatch a few hours of sleep.

  God, I am wiped. Cass stretched again and leaned her head against the cool window, hoping to catch a glimpse of something below her other than water. No such luck. She had fallen asleep almost immediately after Landers left, taking just enough time to recline the sleeper seat before letting her eyes slide shut. Now, with the nauseating up-and-down movement of the plane, Cass was suddenly afraid she was going to be sick. It was very apparent that she would not be getting more sleep any time soon. She struggled upright and quickly reset the seat to its normal position, hoping that would help. It didn’t.

  Cass clenched her jaw as the plane dropped again. Around her, other passengers groaned and mumbled in discomfort. Sternly ordering her stomach to stay put, Cass rustled around for something, anything, to distract her. Evacuation procedures...not a good thought, techno-widgies for sale...no thanks...

  “Bag?”

  Cass looked up to find the air steward beside her seat, imperiously waving a bag over her head. Grateful, she nodded and inst
antly regretted the movement as it just added to the sickening rise and fall of the plane. She snatched the airsick bag from his hand and clutched it to her chest, hoping to ward off the inevitable.

  The attendant continued moving forward, his crab-stepping effort to stay on his feet reminding Cass of an old-time sea captain moving from stem to stern in tossing seas. His supply of bags was dwindling as green-tinged passengers followed Cass’s example.

  Another rise, another dip and more groans filled the air.

  Cass fingered the bag she had gotten from the attendant. Clever, it looks like a film bag. Huh, they are even advertising Kodak film! Cass wondered if the advertising was to disguise the bag’s purpose. For a moment she panicked. What if he gave me a film bag! It is not gonna hold anything. Oh crap!

  I do not get airsick!

  I.

  Do.

  Not.

  Get.

  Uh, oh...

  With a gasp, Cass surrendered. Head bent, eyes closed, she lost what little she had been able to eat of the excellent meal they’d served in the first-class cabin, praying that the film bag would hold. It did. Mostly. Amazingly, once she was done, she began to feel a bit better. It helped that the flight seemed to get a bit smoother.