Roller Girl

by Vanessa North

  “Feeling sorry for yourself. How’s that working out for you?”

  “You can be a real bitch, you know that?”

  “And deflecting. Nice. Come on, Jeremy, what’re you really mad about?”

  “My body fucking sucks right now!” he shouts, then he laughs and buries his hands in his hair. He looks at me, still laughing. “God, it felt good to say that.”

  “It’s temporary. Your heart, man. You had a procedure done on your heart.”

  “But it’s fixed. It was weak before, now it’s strong, and I’m the complete fucking opposite. It’s not fair.”

  “You want to shout some more?”

  He shakes his head. “Honestly, I just want a nap.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you at our regular time on Thursday. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  He goes off to the showers and I head up to the front of the gym to make notes on his progress on the computer. I’m just finishing up when the door swings open and a pair of familiar faces walk in.

  “Chase, Lauren, this is a surprise.” I hit Save and come around the desk to greet them.

  “It took me a while—” Lauren holds up the business card I gave her at the scrimmage in Orlando. “But I wanted to sign up for personal training—maybe we can focus on ways that I can skate faster?”

  Oh, thank God. Nate’s going to be thrilled. “That’s—that’s fantastic. Absolutely.”

  “Me too.” Chase smiles at his wife. “Because if I’m going to learn how to ref, I should learn how to keep up with you all. It’s something Lou and I can do together.”

  I should buy a lottery ticket. I don’t think my luck could get any better.

  “Okay, well, we can start the paperwork to get you into the system. Personal training clients have regular use of the gym too; it’s included in my fee. And then we’ll talk about your fitness goals.”

  As I’m getting the new member paperwork for them, Jeremy comes out of the locker room, still pale and drawn, but smiling sheepishly.

  “Thank you.” He pulls me into a hug. “Em and my mom have been fussing and fawning over me, and I think I needed someone to let me get mad.”

  And God, I can relate to that. A wave of anger hits me all over again, like the moment I first realized that the world was arbitrary and our bodies weren’t part of some grand design, but what we ended up with through luck and genetics.

  “You’re gonna be okay. This machine of yours—” I punch his shoulder lightly “—might have come from the factory not the way you wanted. But you’ve fine-tuned the shit out of it, and it’s going to run strong for a lot of years.”

  He nods. “You’re good at this, you know?”

  Embarrassed, I shrug off the compliment. “I like what I do. I like helping people get strong.”

  “Looks like you got two new ones to work with.” He gestures with his chin toward where Lauren and Chase wait.

  The grin feels like it’s going to split my face. “My derby teammate and her husband. They want me to train them.”

  “Good. I’ll see you Thursday.”

  I wave good-bye to him and bring the paperwork to Lauren and Chase. For a while, there’s only the scritch scratch of pen on paper.

  “Where are your kids?” I ask. “Don’t you homeschool?”

  “They go to a math and science co-op on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” Lauren glances up from the paperwork. “We’re kind of hoping that we can schedule our training sessions on those days.”

  I glance around the empty gym. “I think we can manage.”

  “Can I talk to you about Joe?”

  My stomach sinks and flops.

  Chase meets my gaze and holds up his hands. “I am Switzerland.”

  “Okay, what about her?”

  Lauren picks at the sleeve of her shirt for a minute, then peeks up at me. “Well, I saw you guys that night . . . and lately she’s been down, you know?”

  I flinch. Practices have been strained for both of us. She’ll say something funny, and I’ll laugh and reach for a hug, and then she’ll go quiet and skate away. She and Stella have spent a lot of time huddled up in corners, talking, and I doubt it’s all strategy related. “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “And I wanted to say if you guys broke up or something because of what I saw, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in on you and I’ve felt awful ever since.”

  “We didn’t break up because of you. Please don’t feel bad about it.”

  “But you did break up? That’s why she’s sad, isn’t it?”

  Her words are like a knife in my gut and she won’t stop twisting it. “Lauren, it’s really complicated. I started falling for her for all the wrong reasons.”

  “Like what?”

  “Seriously?”

  She shrugs. “A little post-bout analysis. Except with relationships. Think of me as your relationship coach.”

  “I like how she fixes things. Not just for her job—but that’s perfect for her, actually. She’s always looking for ways to make things better. But see, what I need is to be able to fix my own shit.”

  “You’re crazy. That sounds like a good reason to fall for someone.”

  Chase leans over and stage whispers, “Says the wife of a handyman.”

  Swatting his arm, she turns back to me. “No, I see what you mean. What else?”

  “When I’m with her—she doesn’t make me feel big and clumsy. She makes me feel sexy and cherished and wanted.”

  “Again, I’m not seeing the downside. Those are pretty awesome feelings.”

  “And even though it’s why we broke up, there’s that thrill of being with someone secretly. It’s kind of hot—but that’s not enough. Not if she won’t ever come out and say she wants to be with me to the people who matter most.”

  “Here.” Lauren reaches into her purse and pulls out a tissue. I wipe my eyes and shake my head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, I asked.”

  I change the subject then, asking about the kids, and they both start talking excitedly about bringing them to the exhibition bout the following week—my first bout, and I’m skating pivot. Also, my first chance to skate directly against Joe’s ex.

  By the time they leave, with their first appointment made for Thursday, right after Jeremy’s, I feel a little less like going home and spending the rest of the day crying into Elvis’s fur.

  It’s supposed to be my first bout as pivot, but the night before, Stella drops a keg on her foot and fractures the second metatarsal. Who fractures the second metatarsal?

  As we’re warming up on the track the morning of the bout, Joe pulls me and Bex aside and says, “Hey, I know it feels like the deck is stacked against us. Paula Fast One is . . . fuck. She’s fucking fast. I think our best bet against her is to have the most experienced blockers out there. Which means, Bex . . .”

  “I skate pivot. Hooch, we practiced you getting the panty on your head. We didn’t practice passing it the other way.”

  Me. Jammer. Holy shit. It’s a lot of responsibility, and I turn to Joe to tell her she’s crazy and I’m not ready, but the way she looks at me, like she’s got no doubts—it goes a long way toward calming mine.

  “It’s okay.” I shake my head and smile at Bex. “If I need to get it in your hand, I’ll do my best. But I think my strategy is going to be to skate like hell, right?”

  “Remember to stay low.” Joe meets my gaze, all intense. “You’re taller than anyone else on that track except maybe Paula. Get low, stay low. Swing to the outside of the pack as much as possible to pass. Don’t break to the inside unless there’s a clear opening. And for fuck’s sake, don’t forget how to jump.”

  Like I have any choice?

  The first jam is a blur. Paula leads it while I’m still getting my tits and ass grabbed on the line. I finally break free of the blockers, but she’s already scoring points; seconds later, she puts her hands on her hips to call off the jam right as I’m about to lap my first opponent. Shut out in my first
jam.

  “It’s okay, T. Not your fault.” Lauren murmurs as we line up again.

  This time, Lauren hits Paula with an unholy fury, skating in front of her and bouncing up to plant her shoulder in Paula’s chest. Paula goes down in my peripheral vision and I see my opening. I feint left, lurch right, and skate like hell for the gap narrowing between two blockers in yellow.

  By some outrageous fucking miracle, I’m leading the jam.

  Blood pounds in my ears as I close in on the pack. The cheers of the crowd are deafening. Somewhere out there, my best friends in the world are watching this. Knowing Ben and Eddie are seeing me race toward the pack makes me brave.

  “Butt down, Hooch!” someone shouts.

  I spot Bex ahead of me, and for a split second, I think about handing her the panty and letting her take over the jam. Instead, I reach for her hips, grab them, and use her momentum to slingshot myself forward.

  How many have I passed?

  Fuck if I know. I push toward the inside of the turn and then—bam!—hit the floor.

  The ref calls a penalty on the girl who blocked me, but my brain is scattered. Joe pulls me out.

  Bex takes over as jammer.

  Joe puts me back in once I’ve caught my breath, and this time she puts me in the pivot position. I toe up to the line and feel Lauren behind me. She leans forward so our asses are practically rubbing together.

  “Don’t get any ideas, straight girl,” I tease, loudly enough for the other team’s skaters to hear it. Lauren laughs, the whistle blows, and Bex puts her shoulder into one of the other team’s blockers to break free.

  Lauren and I are hip to hip now, a last line of defense against Paula Fast One.

  She leans left; I feint right. Paula goes for the space opening between us and I cut back to the left and swing in front of her.

  She lurches onto Lauren’s shoulder while Bex starts collecting points.

  Halftime is a blur of earnest advice and shoulder thumping and chugging Gatorade. Is this actually happening? By some miracle, we’re winning.

  The miracle holds.

  At the final buzzer, the other girls swarm me with hugs and pats on my helmet. I’m swept up in a tide of enthusiasm unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I look around for Joe, and finally meet her eyes over the crowd.

  Something in her smile feels like a hello, and a blessing, and a hug all at once.

  Spent and sweaty after the bout, I skate out to where we’ll meet the fans.

  Signing autographs isn’t new for me, and that makes it weird when Lauren tries to give me pointers.

  “Remember, they’re here for the persona. You’re not Tina Durham, you’re Hoochie Glide.”

  “Lou. I’ve been signing autographs since I was seventeen,” I whisper. “And I had a persona then, too.”

  She turns beet red, blushing all the way to the roots of her hair. “I was only trying to help.”

  Oh shit. Now I feel like an asshole. “I didn’t mean— I’m sorry. Come on, Lauren, don’t be mad, okay? I hate it when you’re mad.”

  “I’m not mad, I’m embarrassed.”

  “Well, don’t be embarrassed. You’re awesome, you’re like—” And I remember then, something Stella said about Joe weeks before, the best friend she had out there. “You’re my derby wife.”

  She looks up at me, wide-eyed, and her mouth drops open. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  She hugs me, and I think she might be crying, and I’m definitely getting misty, but I hug her back.

  Then the doors swing open and the kids start charging us. Fans. And holy shit, are they different from wakeboarding fans. For one thing, there are a lot of girls. Not just women and teenagers, but girls. And they want my autograph.

  “Tina!”

  I look up from signing a helmet, and I’m greeted by a really welcome sight. Ben, Wish, and Eddie approach, all smiles. I say good-bye to the little girl, handing her back her Sharpie, and turn to hug my friends.

  Eddie squeezes me extra tight, then wrinkles up his nose and says “Ew, girl sweat.”

  “I’m so glad you guys made it!”

  Ben rubs one side of his face and gives me an apologetic smile. “Dave’s sorry he couldn’t come. He’s in Charleston dealing with the wedding stuff. You remember how that goes.”

  Mostly, I remember being absolutely fucking terrified. But who wants to tell a groom-to-be that?

  “I do, though, honestly, Lisa took care of most of it.” Like she took care of everything. A few months ago, that thought would have brought with it a wave of guilt and remorse. But today, it feels matter-of-fact—like I’m seeing my former relationship for what it was, without the guilt. I smile at Ben. “Damn, I can’t believe the wedding is two weeks away.”

  A big, goofy grin crosses his face. “Me neither.”

  I turn to Eddie. “So, what did you think, Mr. Anti-Jock? Did you have a good time?”

  “I loved watching you have so much fun, but there are more pleasant ways to collect bruises. Ahem.”

  Behind him, I catch sight of Joe, deep in conversation with Chloe, who has one hand on Joe’s shoulder as she laughs. Seeing them together so intimately, even in a crowd, breaks something inside me. All the blood in my body seems to rush in my ears, and even though Eddie’s boyfriend is talking now, I don’t hear a word.

  “Good-bye, Eddie!” Eddie says, clearly in response to Wish’s prompting, and then they’re leaving.

  “See you at the wedding, T!” Eddie shouts over his shoulder, and then it’s just me and Ben.

  “So. Which one is she?” Ben peers around. “Your girl?”

  “She’s not my girl.” Not anymore. “But that’s her.” I gesture with my chin. He glances over his shoulder, does a double take at the sight of Joe and Chloe.

  “She has a nice smile,” he says tactfully. “Do we hate her?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “It would be easier if we did. But I like her too much.”

  A kid—maybe seven or eight years old—wearing jeans, a white T, and gender-neutral ponytail, approaches with Mom hovering like a wary, watchful dragon. They hold up a tiny pair of skates.

  “Sign my boots?”

  I kneel down to be at their height.

  “Sure, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

  They turn to their mom, who smiles and whispers something in their ear.

  “I’m Thomas to friends.” They puff out their chest. “And family. Mom says you’re family.”

  I look up at her sharply, and she nods. “I’m Sarah. And I’m trying to be a good ally for my child.”

  “Thomas, do you like to be called he?” I start doodling a roller-skating person on the skate.

  “I don’t like to be called he or she. My teachers call me she.”

  Dear Thomas,

  Always be proud to be yourself.

  Your friend,

  Tina “Hoochie Glide” Durham

  “I had another name once. But that’s not who I am.” I keep doodling—stars like the jammer’s helmet.

  “You’re Hoochie Glide!” Thomas shouts it, and everyone laughs, but I want them to know—I want them to understand that I get them.

  “I’m also Tina Durham, and I’m so happy to meet you, Thomas.” I give their little hand a serious handshake, with some complicated snaps and twists and slaps.

  “Thank you,” Sarah whispers fervently. “You’re the first trans person they’ve met. We saw your special on Weekend Sports, and Tommy . . . oh God, they were so happy. They shrieked and shouted about how you were—please forgive them if this is offensive, I don’t think they understood everything—a boy when you wakeboarded, and a lady when you skate. I explained that it was different for you, that you were always a lady, but it was secret for a while. But they saw . . .”

  “They saw trans, and they saw themself.” I take her hand. Seeing someone emotional like this for their kid always gets me right in the gut. “It’s okay, I completely and totally understand. Can I—can I
hug you?”

  She grabs me then, and holds on like her life depends on it. “Thank you so much for what you’ve done today.”

  “I skated a tough bout. I shook your kid’s hand, and I believed in them, that’s all. I’m so happy I met Thomas today.”

  “May I take a picture?” Joe comes up behind me but addresses Sarah. “I’m happy to send a copy to you for Thomas—but I think Hoochie would like one too.”

  “We would love that, thank you.” Sarah leans over and says something to Thomas, who nods.

  We huddle together for the camera, their little arm around my shoulders. Before the shutter clicks, they tell me they want to use boy words someday, but they aren’t ready yet.

  “I didn’t use girl words until I was all grown up,” I whisper. “You can use ‘they’ as long as you want. It’s yours. Don’t let anyone take it from you.”

  “I won’t.”

  We pinky swear over it while Joe gets Sarah’s email address.

  “I’ll email you the picture too,” Joe says, showing it to me on the back of the camera.

  “I’d like that, thank you. Oh, and you have to meet Ben!”

  He moved out of the way while I was talking to Thomas, but now he steps forward and gives Joe his most charming smile.

  “Ben Warren. Nice to meet you.”

  “Joe Delario.” She shakes his hand and sort of sizes him up. “So you’re the Ben Warren. Local legend.”

  He blushes and turns to me. “She’s met Eddie already?”

  “No, baby, she lives in Lake Lovelace. The whole town is proud of you.”

  “Aw, hell.”

  “I think you embarrassed him.” Joe laughs. “I’m happy to meet you too, Ben. I’ve heard so much about you, and all of it was good.”

  “In that case, Tina left out the really scandalous stories.”

  “Excuse me for interrupting.” Chloe comes up to us. “Joe, I’m leaving now. Call me next week, okay?”

  “You got it. Thanks hon.” Joe gives her a big hug. They look good together, and I hate it. I hate that she’s hugging her ex right in front of me like it’s no big deal. I hate that they make a cute couple. I hate that they’re apparently going to talk on the phone, and I hate that I ended it with Joe before it could hurt, because this hurts too, and it hurts so much worse because it’s my fault.