“Then tell me. Promise me. Right here.”
“Tell you what?”
I lean forward pointing a finger down to the bed. “That you’re done. That this is the last Gold Medal Event for us.”
Remi leans back and laughs. “I can’t tell you that.”
I suck in a breath and take in all the air in the room with it. “You can’t or you won’t?”
Remi stands up from the bed and takes a few steps back, his face pinched. “You want me to tell you that I’m done?”
“Yes.” It seems simple enough. My mind says it’s a simple word, but my heart hurts at his expression. One that says it’s not that easy at all.
“You want me to take something I’ve trained for since I was seven and just throw it out the window? To say I won’t even try at the next Gold Medal trials? What if I wake up tomorrow and feel great? How could you ask that of me?”
“Remi… You promised.”
He points a finger at me. “So because you’re what… having a self-conscious day I have to throw away everything I worked so hard for?”
Since he’s standing I stand up too. “What do you mean throw it all away? Remi, you have three gold medals in the halfpipe. This is your fourth time here. You had an amazing career, but you also have an injury. When is enough going to be enough?”
“If you think there will ever come a point when it’s enough, you obviously don’t know me. I thought you were here to support me, to pump me up. Now you want me to end my career?”
I take a step back physically injured by his verbal words. “Do you honestly think that?”
“I can’t see how someone who says they love me would want me to stop doing the one thing that makes me happy.”
We stand there silently as time stretches between us. I run back through all the things he’s promised me before today about how this was his last Gold Medal Event and after this we would get to do all those things we’ve wanted to do, but put off for his career. All the times I’ve used up my vacation days and put my tenure in teaching at risk to follow him around the world. Teachers aren’t supposed to take time off during the school year. We may get days, but it’s frowned upon if you use them. My principal makes an exception because she doesn’t have any other teachers with pro-athlete boyfriends, but it can’t go on forever. With each thought my face, and heart crumble more, and my eyes fill with tears.
“You know what, Remi. You’re right. It was selfish of me to want an opportunity to live my life at some point. I’m sorry.” I struggle to get each word out not meaning any of them. “If another medal is what you want you should work for that.”
He shakes his head at me like he knows every word is a lie, but doesn’t want to believe it. “I don’t believe you.”
This time it’s my turn to laugh without humor. “You probably shouldn’t.”
The standoff between us continues until he shakes his head a few more times, throwing his shoulders up in question, and turns his back to me.
“Are you leaving?”
He turns back in my direction grabbing Diane from the closet. “Well I sure as fuck won’t stay here.”
“So that’s it?” I don’t even really know what “it” is. What if anything did this fight settle? He opens the hotel room door. “Go off and live your life and do whatever you think you need to do, Marley. I’ve got things to do here. Important things. Sorry you don’t see that anymore.” He waves a hand like he’s shooing me away and walks through the door. The loud click declares he’s left.
In shock I sit on the edge of the bed. The tears I’d been fighting off a minute earlier no longer threatening to fall, but rolling down my cheeks.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The birds start their chirping shit again and I groan into my pillow. In a scene too similar to yesterday I cock open one eye into the curtains closed across the large window, but a sliver of bright sunlight sneaks its way to that same edge. Between the bird and the light there is no hope of me falling back to sleep this morning. Especially since I’ve obviously slept past my normal wakeup time.
The start of this morning may resemble yesterday, but I don’t get a do-over from the events that have already happened.
Tomorrow Remi competes in the halfpipe event, his only event. Today will be a day of rest where he allows his muscles time to recuperate. Yesterday was a practice day, and while he spent his time on the slopes, I wandered around the Lodge. Reagan tried talking me into visiting a few of the little towns nearby and doing some shopping but leaving Remi didn’t seem like the right thing to do, even if we weren’t talking. Twice throughout the day he entered the lodge, and I stuck my nose in the air pretending I didn’t see him. He walked on by pretending he didn’t care. We’re officially at a stalemate and petty as it may seem, it’s not wrong to need a little reassurance from my long-term boyfriend that I’m important to him.
Sure… Okay… Maybe I’m not picking the best time of our relationship to put up a stink about this particular fact, but if not now, then when? There’s always a Gold Medal competition or X Games or something. Eventually you have to learn to live your life in between.
Reagan, always an amazing person and one of my best friends took my side even though she didn’t have to. I never actually told her what was wrong or gave her many details. She took one look at me when I sat down on the couch with a handful of bacon and knew something was up. In hindsight the bacon probably gave me away.
Mid-day when I almost gave in and went to apologize first, Reagan pulled me to the couch and gave me a wonderful lecture on women solidarity. How if I gave in now it was a huge loss for all women everywhere. It made a lot of sense at the time. Plus, I thought for sure Remi would meet me in the room last night.
Remi hates staying in athletic housing. Shoddy construction, cramped quarters, and as each event ends it becomes a never-ending college frat party. He’s always stayed in my room. Well, except the one year they had a crazy new public relations person — not as cool or as pretty as McKenna — who did bed checks every night at one a.m. That year Remi fell asleep in his assigned bed and then would sneak out after checks and finish the night with me.
I waited up till past two last night, but Remi never showed.
Even now a part of me hopes to wake up with him next to me. Lying on my side I reach back with one hand and touch the covers, but as expected there’s no one there. The sheets are cold.
What is surprising is that I don’t get sad.
No. I’m pissed.
I’m always the one who gives in. I’m always the one who apologizes first. This one time I need Remi to drop the macho man routine and show a little emotion he’s not capable of showing.
I’m ready to fall into a woe-is-me spiral. One where I analyze every last-minute detail of our relationship from our first date. It’s working out to be a good one where I question all my choices and then I question my decision-making ability before deciding I’ll eat a tub of ice cream… And maybe some chocolate cake. But before I get to the food part, my cell phone buzzes on the table beside me. The ring tone, “Your mother is calling,” said in a sad robotic voice, shatters the peaceful silence of the room.
For a quick second I debate not answering, but the thought doesn’t last long. She’s my mother and I’m in another country. It doesn’t matter what time it is here. If I don’t answer the phone, she’ll call me back three more times before using the Internet to find a number to the hotel and then probably the local hospitals. I learned that lesson the hard way in Calgary.
With as much enthusiasm as a cat taking a swim, I answer the phone. “Yes, Mom.”
“Were you sleeping? I hope you weren’t sleeping. It’s this time change. I never know what time it is.”
“I’m still in bed, but I wasn’t sleeping. You’re fine.”
“Oh good. Is Remington taking the day off from practice?”
“Probably, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.” And then the tears start. You really can’t blame me. I was already
halfway into a dread spiral when she called. All it would take is a simple mention to get everything working.
Over the next twenty minutes I rack up what will probably be a very expensive international phone call — my mom will not learn to Skype. I throw everything and the kitchen sink at her. The fact I’m never getting married or having children. I’m always going be second best to a snowboard named Diane. All those insecurities and concerns I’ve locked up tightly for the last four years flow out of me like an open dam.
When I finally stop talking she doesn’t respond. Only my sniffles every few seconds carry over the line. “Mom.”
She sighs. “Mars, you seem to be having a tough time and you asked a lot of questions.”
No shit. Aren’t Moms associated with good advice? Tell you things you don’t know?
“You love Remi and it’s obvious he adores you as well. You’re both in a high stress situation right now. It may be his fourth time at the Winter Games, but there’s a lot of pressure riding on Remi. Especially when he thinks it will be his last chance. You know men. They never want to see themselves as getting old or weak. Last week your dad tried to carry in all the grocery bags in one trip and threw his back out.”
I picture my father doing exactly that in my mind and her story makes me chuckle.
“He’s an accountant and still thinks he’s Superman. I’m sure it’s a hundred times worse for a pro athlete.”
I agree with what she’s saying even if it sounds a lot like she’s taking Remi’s side of this argument. “But, Mom,” I say sounding completely like an annoying teenager.
“You didn’t let me finish. You’re obviously very upset about the entire situation and we both know you’ve had these feelings for a while. If you think you need to leave, then do so. Take time to think about your future. It’s a long heavy load.”
“I don’t know what my future is without Remi.”
“Sometimes the strongest thing to do is walk away.”
A few more wise words of advice pass to me but I don’t really take any more in. Remi’s possible last Gold Medal event competition is tomorrow. Even if this is the end of us, I might never forgive myself if I leave now and miss his attempt at the halfpipe.
But my mother makes a lot of sense. Maybe it’s time for me to take a step back and think about myself for a change. I put everything off for over a decade to support Remi. Now maybe it’s my time to support myself. Put me first.
CHAPTER NINE
The few clothes still packed away and a small dirty pile in the corner of the room were the only items left to pack. I haven’t been here long enough to accumulate a collection of things. And because I always pack light, I try to wear each shirt a few times.
One of our very first trips together I packed two bags — one carry-on and one checked. I thought Remi would have a heart attack. In my opinion I had packed light, but he had a different idea. Over the years he’s influenced me through hard nagging and complaints until I’m now able to make it a full trip with one carry-on bag. Packing ideas on Pinterest help too.
I zip closed the top of my bag with the broken wheel and set it on the floor beside the bed. Remi has the additional room key so he can still use the room if he decides he wants to. I plan to call Reagan from the cab on the way to the airport. Maybe send an email. Even if this is the last call for Remi and me, I know she and I will stay friends.
After finishing my phone call with my mother I laid in bed for another thirty or so minutes and formulated a plan. Room service for breakfast, a shower, and then pack my bags for a quick escape. No, I don’t plan to leave before watching Remi’s last event, but tomorrow I’ll take my suitcase with me to the arena. I will watch his three trials and the medal ceremony — because I know in my heart he is going to win— and then I’ll make a mad dash to the airport. I hope catching a red eye is a term used in every country.
The halfpipe runs three heats throughout the day and a medal ceremony at night. I’m fairly certain if I sit in the regular stands rather than those assigned for family with all the excitement in the crowd I can go unnoticed.
I gave it a lot of thought and looked at the situation from every angle. It’s a really great plan.
Reagan will probably hunt me down when she notices I haven’t made it to their area to sit next to his family and smile for the cameras, but I’m going to pretend my plan will work without any hiccups. Either way I’m in the first cab out of here.
There’s a soft knock to the door, which I imagine belongs to Reagan, and I freeze packing up my makeup in the bathroom. I have two options — open the door and feed her lies about my mental state or hide in the bathroom and pretend I don’t hear her.
It’s an easy choice and I go with option two. Standing perfectly still I stare at my own face in the large vanity mirror. There’s another knock and I hold my breath hoping she gives up and searches for me elsewhere.
The hallway outside my door goes quiet and I breathe a sigh of relief, walking out into the bedroom. I toss the makeup bag on top of the suitcase when there’s a beep at the door. My muscles tighten and I stop moving, only my eyes seek out the door in question.
The door handle jiggles. Going down, then up, then down again. But rather than stop there, to my horror it opens completely. The room door creaks slowly, but too quickly for me to run and hide behind the bed. I brace waiting to see who is on the other side. It’s not a long list of people, but it’s definitely someone I don’t want to see right now.
As expected Remi’s body soon fills the space.
“Good. You are here.” He stops in the middle of the entryway. “I knocked.”
“I heard. Did you leave something here?” What other reason would he have to be here right now?
“Yeah…” Remi smirks. “My heart.”
He’s not normally one to be vindictive but I guess that’s how this conversation is going to go today. “Let me guess.” I put a hand to my chin in thought. “Because I tore it out yesterday.”
He rolls his eyes. “My God, woman. I’m trying to be sweet. You are my heart. You.”
“Me?”
Remi steps closer but is still cautious. “Yes, you. I love you, Marley. All the other stuff yesterday was me being stupid.”
He was rather stupid yesterday.
“But, I know you want to do another Winter Games.”
“Yeah of course I do.” He shakes his head like I’m the one who doesn’t get it. “I want to compete until I’m eighty. No ninety years old. But my knee is killing me, more than even you realize, and that sucks.”
“Remi,” saying his name almost brings tears to my eyes. I hate seeing him so vulnerable.
“Happens to everyone sooner or later. And we both know I put my knees through a lot of hell over the years. I just hoped I had longer.”
“Thirty-one is pretty old for a snowboarder.”
“Not anymore. We’re getting older every year,” he says. “Tom Brady is forty-one and he’s still playing.”
He makes me laugh like he’s always been able to. “Wrong sport.”
“The point is it sucks and then yesterday I took it out on you, which sucks even more. Without you I wouldn’t have gotten this far. And without you by my side I’m definitely not competing tomorrow.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and that includes all the stuff you said yesterday.”
He closes the last two feet between us until his arms wraps around me and I let him. “You know me. I don’t like to do anything half ass.”
“I’m sorry. I just heard you say four more years and I went crazy.”
“No. This is my time to apologize. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m just buying time before I tell my agent and the sponsor. For the time being I’m going to keep talking about the next Golds…for the sponsors. But know I’m promising you right here and now I’m done.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “I promise.”
“You don’t have to promise, Remi.” For all my rough and tough
attitude yesterday I wouldn’t really keep him from another shot.
He squeezes me. “Marley, look at me,” he says tilting my head to see up his massive tree trunk body. “I promise you right here I will not be in another Winter Games. I wasn’t kidding before. You are my heart. The only reason I get out and compete is so after I win an event you’ll jump up and down with your slightly crooked smile and wrap your arms around me in a hug. Do you know I save all those pictures the media takes with you in that pose on my phone? I would do anything for you. After this you and I will do the whole wedding thing, get you some white flowers, a cream-colored wedding dress.”
“Screw that. I’m totally wearing white.” I smack him on the arm. “And you better not save those pictures on your phone. I look horrible in those poses.” It never fails some media source somewhere will post a picture of me looking either stoned or stupid after Remi wins a race.
“Babe, I’ve totally fucked you a thousand times. Wearing white is against the rules.” He places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Let’s take a year off and travel for fun this time and then pop out four to six kids.”
And take a step back. “I’m not popping out four to six anything. And you’ll never give up snowboarding completely. I don’t expect it.”
I may be optimistic, but even I realize snowboarding will always play an important role in Remi’s life, regardless of what he does. Life after the Gold Medals won’t be snowboarding free. It will just involve less snowboarding. Less high-profile sporting events, spaced out further apart…hopefully.
He smiles. “Yeah you got me. But nothing too major.”
“I can handle that.”
“And you definitely need to quit your job,” he says sitting on the bed and taking me with him.
“I’m definitely not quitting my job.” I love my little kindergartners.
With a gentle push on my shoulder right back is against the bed. “Babe, after tomorrow I will be semi-retired. There’ll be a lot of free time on my hands and I need someone to keep me busy.”
His Last Race Page 5
