“Heh.”
“Try not to gloat. It’s unbecoming.”
I laughed. “Says the man who just gloated.”
“Hush, you.”
The fun and games weren’t only on the water, and they started before the trials did. Both my parents and my grandparents arrived a day or two ahead of time, and for whatever deranged reason, both couples assumed that Marissa Lodestone would play hostess. Peter Lodestone and I both rolled our eyes at the notion, since Marissa was there for one reason, and that was to see if Peter’s coaching had paid off. I’d known Marissa since I was a high school freshman and she was Lodestone’s girlfriend. Really? Play hostess? “Play” was right, because she didn’t have a domestic bone in her body. Anything domestic occurring in the Lodestone household happened because my coach was a rowing bum. For her part, Marissa simply turned her cochlear implants off by removing their processors—I’d seen her do it before—and pretended she couldn’t read lips.
Me? The work of six months was focused on the next few days, and I had no intention of running interference between my parents and grandparents. Grow up, already. Or maybe I imagined everything, since I could’ve made a diamond by clenching coal between my teeth. Also, I’ve been accused a time or two of being completely self-absorbed. I preferred to think of it as being of singular focus. Everything unrelated to rowing I ignored more than ever. After, I’d play host, maybe even interpret for Marissa if she were still playing that game. My sign language might’ve been rusty, but I still remembered it.
The selection methods themselves were quite simple and yet incredibly nerve-racking. Over the course of the selection event, we were run through trials boats and selection camp boats. Trials boats consisted of coxed fours, quads, and everything smaller, right down to my beloved single. The smallest selection camp boats, on the other hand, were the coxless fours, but mostly? The mighty eights. Sure, they weren’t the men’s and women’s eights from the Olympic teams—seriously, watching the Olympic men’s eight always sent shivers down my spine—but many of the people who made the U23 eights would end up in serious contention for Olympic boats. Actually, there was no distinction between athletes rowing eights and scullers. All athletes at the selection camp tested for all boats, and anyone making the cut? His or her shit didn’t stink, and that was the end of it.
No pressure.
Imagine my surprise when the morning of the first day of the tests dawned pleasant and free of humidity. Wasn’t the East Coast supposed to be hot and humid in the summer? California bias, much, Remy? Maybe—just maybe—USRowing had selected the site in New Jersey for a reason, and that reason was highs in the 70s and 80s with low humidity and no bugs. Regardless, it was a beautiful day to be handed my ass, and that started a trend that didn’t let up the entire time. At least, that’s how it felt to me. Nothing clicked, and I felt like a novice on the first day of learn-to-row camp.
My family made soothing noises for the entire camp, but Lodestone understood that platitudes and I mixed as well as gasoline and phosphorous-bearing laundry detergent. That is, a sticky, flammable combination that was a close approximation to napalm. Then again, Lodestone knew me better than my family, too.
Someone must’ve tipped off Geoff, because he texted me. Actually, the entire San Diego contingent texted me, including Craig. Michael even called. As much as I loved them all for encouraging me, I couldn’t wrench my attention away from the Hindenburg-like flaming wreck of all my work. I had to keep my head in the boats.
Finally it was over. I felt… I wasn’t sure, actually. My feelings were too complicated to sort out, at least at first. I knew I’d eventually debrief with Lodestone, and in the meantime I only prayed I’d escape without too many “Awww, poor baby” comments from my family.
Not long after the apocalypse, three of the national team coaches approached me. For some reason all I could think of was Macbeth. The fact that all three wore black technical fiber shirts or warm-up pants hardly helped to rein my imagination in.
“Hi, Jeremy,” the first Weird Sister said. “We wanted to congratulate you for your strong performance.”
“It wasn’t strong enough.” So yeah, that was graceless.
The second Weird Sister sighed. “I was afraid you’d see it that way.”
I cocked my head. “I didn’t make the cut. Is there some other way to see it?”
“Actually, yes, and that’s why we’re here. We’ve been watching you, Remy. I think you knew that. You’re still growing and maturing, and we expect to see you back here next year,” the first Weird Sister said. “Your erg tests are great. Fantastic, even. But like the stupid saying goes, ergs don’t float. There’s something missing with your performance on the water. We think you can get this, and that’s why we want to see you next year. In fact, we expect to see you at the identification camps and national team testing.”
“That’s something, I guess.” I tried to rally. I was tired—no, not tired, exhausted, like the fatigue of the last six months came crashing down now that I could let go.
The third Weird Sister nodded. “The one thing we want you to work on is your ability to blend with other rowers. You’re a demon in that single, but you don’t mesh well with others yet. We want to see more of that. One of the criteria is the athlete’s ability to match the style and technique of the rest of the crew, and that’s just not there. You may want to cry shenanigans, but we’re as disappointed as you are.”
I thought for a moment. I really hated it when Pendergast was right. I sighed. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that. I trained so hard in my single….”
“I don’t doubt it,” the third Weird Sister said. “I’m going to guess, based on what I’ve seen and what Lodestone’s told me, you’re enough better than the other guys at CalPac that the single’s the only way to challenge you. That’s another reason we want to see you again.”
“It’s not like an automatic invite like Head of the Charles, but if it were, you’d have one. Speaking of, you did a great job in that quad, but… what happened?” the first Weird Sister said, curiosity overcoming manners. “It’s like you’ve lost ground or something.”
I snorted. “I’ve known some of those guys for a long time, and two of them are like older brothers to me. It took almost nothing for me to synch up with them.”
“Your coach has film of all of this, some of it he took, some of it’s ours. But here’s the deal,” the second Weird Sister said. “We don’t want you to watch it for a while, okay? Take a break, and don’t look at it until you can think about crew without bitterness.”
“What?” The first Weird Sister smiled ruefully. “You think we don’t understand the thought process? Trust me, every single one of us understands what you’ll feel soon, because we’ve been there. Go home, do something else for a while, and try to remember that you didn’t get here by being a crappy rower.”
I nodded. Sure, I didn’t get here by being a crappy rower, but I was leaving here without being on the U23 team. I needed some time. I wasn’t ready to shrug off six months of the hardest physical and mental work I’d ever done, six months to which I’d sacrificed everything, possibly including the most meaningful relationship of my life.
And it’d all been flushed down the shitter. When I thought about it, and it was impossible not to, it hardly seemed real. I knew one thing at that moment. I needed not to be where I was.
Mom and Dad approached. “I need to cool down. I’m going to go for a quick run, okay?”
Dad wasn’t stupid. “Sure, Remy. We’ll meet you back the hotel.”
I took off before anyone else could catch me. Anyone except Lodestone. Sometimes I hated him.
He caught up to me easily. Of course. He hadn’t rowed his guts out for four solid days. “Don’t shut them out, Remy. They’re concerned.”
“Doesn’t a boy at least get to be mad about this in private without people getting their emotions all over me? I’ve got enough of my own to deal with.” That sounded so bitchy.<
br />
“Someone else, maybe. Not you. You get broody and keep things inside.”
Could Lodestone not have the decency to sound winded when he was hectoring me?
“Well, fuck you very much for that. I’ve just been humiliated in front of the elite of our sport, an elite I’m not a part of. Maybe I’d like not to deal with them right now.”
I picked up my pace. So much for a cooldown. Of course that bastard had to match me.
“You get to feel your feelings—”
“Well, thank you so much, Dr. Phil!”
“Did you ever think I might be upset, too?”
“Bully for you! Did I ask you to come for a run with me? I’m angry and pissed, and I’m running to get away from people. Six goddam months, Lodestone! I should’ve worked harder. Could I have worked harder?”
Lodestone yanked on my collar so I had stop.
“Bastard. That hurt.”
“Brat.”
“Whatever.” Actually I signed W-E-M-L, and if he hadn’t figured out that meant Whatever, Major Loser yet, there was no hope for him. How long had he coached teens for Cap City?
Lodestone rolled his eyes. “Just tell me to fuck off, because that’s what that means.”
He asked for it…. “Fuck off.”
Lodestone stared at me. “You can be such a shit.”
Did he seriously not know not to yank my chain when I was in one of these moods?
“You told me to tell you to fuck off. You must feel very satisfied right now.”
“I should beat you for that.”
I grinned, showing lots of teeth. “You know I like that. So don’t tease if you’re not going to follow through.”
Then he laughed and stuck out his tongue.
“Real mature there, Lodestone.”
“I coach teens. What do you expect?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. Not to be handed my ass?”
“Rem, I know it doesn’t seem that now, but you weren’t handed your ass, I promise.” Lodestone put his arm across my shoulder and tried to turn me around.
I resisted. “Seriously, could I have worked harder? Or smarter or something? I don’t play well with others?”
“No shit. Like that’s news?” Lodestone snorted. “But this isn’t a question we can answer now.”
“I know. I need a break. I feel like… I feel old. Why do I feel old?” I wanted more than anything to collapse against my coach and let him take care of me.
“Rem, look at me. Jeez, you’re stubborn.” Lodestone forced me to turn and look at him. “You feel old for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is because you’ve been focused on this for half a year and it’s over. No, not like we wanted it to be, but it’s over.”
When he was sure he had my attention, he continued. “Take a break. I mean it. Do nothing physical for a week, maybe two. Three if that feels right. You’ve hovered on the edge of being overtrained for months, now. That’s why I’ve watched you so carefully.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m… done.”
“You are, Rem. That’s part of why you’re so upset right now. Yes, dreams crushed, but also? You’re on the brink of collapse. I can almost guarantee you that with a week’s rest, you’ll feel a lot different about this. That said, I was serious about not working out for a while, and when you do, I don’t want it to have anything to do with rowing.”
I looked at him like he was crazy.
“I’m not kidding. Sure, you need to stay in shape, but give those muscles a rest. Give your mind a rest.” Lodestone looked like he was thinking for a moment. “Cross-train, like running or biking. Swim. You don’t even have to be very good at it to keep your cardiovascular conditioning up.”
I tried to imagine my life without the constant training. I failed. How pathetic.
“Yeah, okay. Do I want to do this again? Do you?”
Lodestone made a face. “Do not make this decision now. Promise me. I don’t want you thinking about it for at least a month. People will ask you what you’re going to do. Lie to them.”
I smiled. “What’re you going to do? Don’t say go to Disneyland.”
“Screw you. Disney World. I’m taking my wife to Disney World. It’s closer to where we are right now, and I want to be reacquainted with her.”
When we returned to the rowing course, I did what I needed to do. I marched right up to Marissa. “Thank you,” I signed.
“What’re you thanking me for?” she signed back.
“For letting me monopolize your husband, to say nothing of your family time, for the last six months.”
She smiled at me. “We knew what we were getting into.”
“I’m glad. I had no clue.”
“LOL,” Marissa said with her fingers. “Thanks for being aware of it. That means a lot.”
I had no idea Internet slang worked so well with signing, or maybe that was all Marissa. I guess it was like any foreign language. What I learned in school was the formal version. Marissa once told me I sounded “Victorian.”
What people actually spoke was the fast, shorthand version, the casual form of the language that evolved rapidly. I only signed with Marissa, which meant my signing was perpetually rusty.
Marissa gave me a hug. “I know you worked hard, Remy. I’m sorry it didn’t go the way you and Peter planned.”
“Me, too. Have fun at Disney World. I’m going to sleep for a month and eat like a hog.”
With her laughter echoing in my wake, I went in search of my relatives.
Chapter 31
“SO HOW’D it go?”
Randy and I met up for coffee during a break in between work and classes. Everyone had found a way to keep busy this summer, everyone but me. Or at least that’s how it felt.
Okay, maybe “coffee” was an exaggeration. More like iced tea or blended coffee drinks, because July in the Sacramento Valley? Almost hot enough to make blacktop bubble.
Randy sounded so eager, so excited for me. I felt like an asshole for bursting his bubble. I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “I was slaughtered. I had no business being there.”
He listened to my tale of woe and misery and then did something completely unexpected. He leaned over the table and slapped me. Lightly, because he was a friend.
“Shut it.” His pale blue eyes looked so cold. I’d never seen him like this.
“That hurt!” I rubbed my cheek. I’d thought he seemed like such a shy, even diffident, guy, and now this?
“Self-pitying spew makes me sick to my stomach.”
I stared at him, openmouthed. “Dude, I—”
“Had a chance to do something that the vast majority of rowers will never do because they’re not that good, which you are through some combination of genetics, drive, and skill. You? From what you told me, you missed the cut by a hair, and the coaches told you that you’d damn well better keep trying. Wasn’t that about the extent of it?” Randy cut his eyes to the side, like he couldn’t stand the sight of me a second longer.
“When you put it that way….”
“Not me, Remy, the USRowing coaches.”
I sighed. Then I smiled sheepishly. “I guess I sound pretty bratty.”
“You sounded spoiled and petulant, and that’s a terrible look for anyone.” Then Randy looked me with his amazing blue eyes. They sparkled. “Especially you.”
Oh crap. I knew right then that Randy was going to be trouble.
Like I couldn’t have figured it out before.
Randy glanced down at his watch. He wore one of those huge diving watches. “Damn, is it that late?”
“How would I know? You’re the one with the watch.”
“I have class in ten minutes. Catch you later,” Randy said. He took off, ruffling my hair on the way by.
I almost missed that, Randy. Could you flirt a little harder?
Because life couldn’t ever settle down, right? On my way home, I stopped by the supermarket. As I’d told Mom and Dad, I could at least leave their freezer f
illed since I wouldn’t be working that summer. I didn’t count reading in the shade by the pool as working.
Later, over dinner, Mom asked me, “How are you, Rem? Really?”
“I’m upset. Who wouldn’t be? But—” Dad inhaled to say something, but I got there first. “—I’m getting over it. There’s not much point to stewing over the past.”
“You took the words out of my mouth, Rem.” Dad smiled.
I shook my head. “A friend helped me get some perspective earlier today, I’ll admit that. Why he brought home what everyone else who’s said the same couldn’t get through, I can’t tell you.”
“Critical mass? Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Mom said. “Now tell me, where are you finding these recipes?”
They were going to hate me for this…. “Your kitchen. You have three shelves of cookbooks. Most of them? Their spines have never been cracked.”
The two weeks before I left for Chicago passed at a stately pace, and that suited me fine. I finished my training journal and sent it all off to iPartwithmymoney to be bound into a book suitable for display on coffee tables everywhere. Grandma and Grandpa not only deserved a copy, I planned to deliver it personally. That meant paying for a rush job, but by that time, what was a few more dollars compared to how much the entire enterprise had cost already?
I saw Randy a few more times, but the man truly was busy. I never asked, but I suspected he was working his way through school. As much as I wanted to play at obliviousness, I knew perfectly well what his intentions were. But me and Michael? I couldn’t shake the idea that we had unfinished business. I don’t know why I thought that. It wasn’t as if I expected us to get back together, but until I felt like a free man, I knew I wouldn’t pursue anything with anyone else. I couldn’t. That was how I operated. Or didn’t. Whatever.
All That Is Solid Melts Into Air Page 31
