Maternity Leave (34 page)

I walked over to Danny and asked, “Why was he barking?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t like cyclists. We rode ten to fifteen feet behind Lynn and he looked out the window and barked at her the entire time. Once the
peloton
made the catch and we got back into the caravan, he fell asleep.”

“That’s not good. The race is going to break up after San Francisco and hopefully, I’ll be in the lead group with my team car not too far behind.”

“Good, it’s only right that you should have to listen to that mutt.”

“I heard him on the radio,” I said.

“You need to be right there to truly appreciate how annoying it is.”

“I’ll buy him a muzzle and some toys,” I said, without any confidence that it would work.

The problem with Sonny went beyond the barking. He was also having a severe humping issue. Around new people, he got excited and humped anything in site. Each night, that meant one of my teammates or that night’s hosts were sexually assaulted by Sonny. Even the “dog people” were getting annoyed by Sonny’s amorous tendencies. Because I didn’t have Sonny’s elephant, there was nothing to give him to replace the human legs he coveted. I offered mine repeatedly, but he was only interested in new conquests. I decided to buy him a girlfriend.

I went to the pet store and bought Sonny a large tyrannosaurus rex stuffed animal and brought it to the Gomezes’, our hosts for the evening. After forty-five minutes of watching Sonny hump T-Rex and thrash him around the room, my teammates were finally beginning to forgive Sonny for the previous four days of humping and the six hours of howling during Stage 3. Sonny ruined this temporary truce when he ripped open the T-Rex, which was stuffed with thousands of small beads. The beads spilled out all over the floor and into Brenda’s suitcase. The next day, throughout Stage 4, she complained she had beads stuck in the lining of her chamois, the pad sewn into a cyclist’s shorts to cushion the butt, and that the beads were causing chafing. I gave Sonny some extra treats for this.

After Stage 4, Alyssa and I grabbed lunch. I felt badly that Danny was giving massages and couldn’t come, but I was happy for alone-time with Alyssa. As I was thinking of poor Danny, Alyssa said, “That guy Danny is really nice.”

“Yeah,” I said, “it’s an illness.”

“I love that he’s into alternative medicine in addition to massage,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Danny isn’t a quack.”

“I didn’t call him a quack. I think he’s a genius. I’ve always had this problem with my back and during my massage, he felt my aura and figured out the problem.”

Yikes, I thought. Alyssa sounded like a freak. I’d dumped people for less. “So, what’s the problem?” I asked with a bit of a smirk on my face.

“Danny said that the heat and pressure from my back revealed that my pain is from a former life. He said I was once a conquistador and that I died in battle when I was struck in the back with an ax.”

“Really?” I said. “That’s weird because I’ve always had this horrible ache in my hand and I think it’s from my former life, when I was an Aztec and I nicked myself throwing an ax through someone’s back.”

“I sense skepticism,” Alyssa responded, ever astute.

“You sense correctly. Even if this were true and Danny wasn’t completely fucking with you, which he was, how does that help you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems you’re now resigned to a painful back because of your past life.”

“Not at all. Now that Danny knows what it is, he’s treating it,” Alyssa said.

“How, pray tell? Did he kill a chicken, pour the blood down your back then bury the carcass under your bed?”

“Ha, ha,” Alyssa said without a hint of humor. “Actually, he used kinesio tape and massage.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Taming the spirit of the conquistador is accomplished the same way as curing sore muscles.”

“Doubt all you want, but I’m a believer.”

This was the point in any relationship where I would kick someone to the curb. However, I found it entertaining coming from Alyssa. Unlike men, it seemed cute and acceptable for a woman to act completely illogical.

When we got in the car to drive back to the house, I asked Alyssa if I could kiss her. We were sitting in the parking lot of a strip mall.

“What?” she said, no doubt stunned by the sudden change in topic.

“Oh, sorry. I kind of just assumed you were into me because you’re a lesbian and we’re hanging out and we had that talk yesterday. Are you at all interested in me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She seemed honestly caught off-guard, which was not a good sign. I thought it was obvious I was into her. “Are you just experimenting with me?” she asked.

“Yes and no. I think I really want to kiss you. I’m sure of it. But I also might freak out and throw up. So, yes, I’d say this is an experiment.” I said this with a smile and hoped like hell she wasn’t offended and would kiss me.

“A little more sweet talk like that and I’ll be ready to kiss you,” Alyssa said sarcastically.

“Great,” I said, but couldn’t lean into the kiss. It was easily the most awkward moment of my life and I’d had quite a record of awkward moments. Finally, after staring and giggling for a few minutes, I leaned in.

The kiss was nice. Softer than with a man, because her face didn’t have scruff or facial hair. I enjoyed the softness and thought of the irony that I always preferred men with a little bit of beard growth. Not the feel of it, just the look sometimes. She touched my face and hair and I did the same to hers. I couldn’t help myself. I had never enjoyed kissing before. Whenever I kissed a guy I got bored quickly. It was like an amusing ritual that I didn’t like or dislike. With Alyssa it was different. At first, I could only think, Holy shit I’m kissing a chick, but that faded quickly, and I got into it. I couldn’t get enough of touching her hair, face and neck. I was turned on and savoring the taste, wanting more.

“So?” she said, and snapped me out of my reverie and back to the reality that I was kissing a woman.

“You taste like a Spanish conquistador,” I replied with a smile, reverting to sarcasm, my default response in any situation.

“Shut up!” she said.

“I’m just kidding,” I said smiling. “Thank you. I enjoyed that.”

“Great, you should get your gay card in two to three weeks,” Alyssa advised.

We drove back to the Gomezes’ and when I walked in, I felt like everyone knew of my newfound lesbian leanings. It was the same feeling I had the first time I hung out with my parents after losing my virginity. But, no one seemed to notice.

An hour later, it was time for my massage. I got on the table, facing up, and told Danny to come in. “Nice job telling Alyssa she’s a conquistador reincarnated,” I said to him.

“You like that?” he asked, smirking.

“Yes. Very funny.” I said, laughing again at his story.

“I gotta find some way to keep myself entertained during nine hours of massages daily.”

“Sounds like you’re doing just fine. Any other good massage stories?” I asked.

“That girl Krista on your team has a really bad obsessive-compulsive disorder and she freaks out if I don’t do the same number of strokes on the left side of her body as the right. She keeps track for me. She might be the craziest cyclist I’ve ever massaged and people that race their bikes a hundred miles a day are a crazy crowd.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “She’s cool, but that might be the most bizarre thing I’ve heard this week. Right up there with me being gay.”

Danny froze mid-stroke and stopped the massage. He looked disappointed for a second, but quickly masked his expression and said, “You still think you’re a lesbian now that you and Alyssa won’t work out?”

“Why do you say that?” I said.

“Because she’s a fucking idiot and believes she’s a reincarnated conquistador.”

“I’m not rejecting her for that,” I countered. “I think it’s cute that she believes in that crap.”

“Hi, I’m Danny, nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“It’s still Jenna. I’m just practicing acceptance of people’s flaws.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Danny said.

“I kissed her,” I said.

Danny offered no visible reaction other than clenching his jaw. He simply said, “And?”

“I liked it.”

“So that’s it? You’re gay now?” Danny asked.

“I’m pretty sure I have at least one more hurdle to overcome before I make that statement, but I must say that I’m feeling gayer all the time. Don’t tell anyone though.”

“So now you’re gay and closeted. Awesome.”

Closeted. I cringed on the inside, but didn’t say anything.

Danny broke the silence. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to anyone.”

* * *

Stages 5 and 6 continued to advance us north via the most indirect route possible to stretch the five hundred miles from San Diego to San Francisco to eight hundred race miles. On Stage 6, our teammate Valerie crashed and broke her collarbone, so our team shrank to eight. I felt bad for Valerie, she was really nice, and like me, this was her first big season of racing. I tried not to think of how quickly it could be me with the broken collarbone because I was the happiest I’d ever been. Alyssa and I talked on the bike and ate together on these days. I was definitely developing a huge crush on her, the crush that all of my friends had in high school but I’d never experienced. Nevertheless, we had yet to make out again since “the kiss.” At first this made me happy, as I was afraid that date number two would include sex and that made me nervous. However, as each day passed, I became more used to the idea of sex with Alyssa and the anticipation was beginning to weigh on me. It was also weighing on me that Alyssa wasn’t pushing the issue, but I tried not to dwell on it since communal living and five to seven hours a day of racing were not exactly conducive to romance.

Stage 7 was the San Francisco time trial. The course was twenty-five miles through the city, ending atop the hill near Coit Tower. It was the day my race would start in earnest since there would not be a sprint finish. The time differences would blow apart on Stage 7 and grow from there, as most of the stages between today’s time trial and the time trial on Stage 14 would be mountainous.  The mountain stages would start in Muir Woods, then move inland through the mountains surrounding the wineries near Napa and Sonoma. The first of two rest days was scheduled after Stage 9, a godsend considering the next week of racing.

As excited and confused as I was regarding all things related to Alyssa, my concerns melted away and my mind refocused on cycling the evening before the time trial. At the start line the following morning, I was extremely nervous. The time gaps for the overall classification had not shifted since the prologue even though we had ridden over sixty hours since then. For each of the six stages, the racers finished together and thus, there were still only fifty seconds separating the overall contenders. If I wanted a shot at a high overall placing, I had to have the ride of my life at the San Francisco time trial.

A good placing at the time trial would also go a long way toward improving my stature on the team. In addition to being the new girl with the loud dog, I had the distinction of placing last in each of the sprints on stages one through six. Both Brenda and Alyssa had two top-ten finishes and four top-twenty finishes, making them the most valuable team members thus far even though, because of the prologue, I was placed fourteen seconds ahead of Brenda and eleven seconds ahead of Alyssa on the general classification, and likely to kick both of their asses once the race entered the mountains. I wanted to do well to prove that I deserved that last spot on the team.

Two sayings about San Francisco are, “If you get tired of walking around San Francisco, lean on it,” and Mark Twain’s, “The coldest winter I ever had was a summer in San Francisco.” Sadly, these sayings are not exaggerations. The high for the day would be 40 degrees and we’d be cresting nine hills with grades of up to twenty-five percent. The time trial course toured the city, winding through Haight-Ashbury, the Castro, Fisherman’s Wharf and Lombard Street (“the crookedest street in the world”), before finishing atop the hill next to Coit Tower, the hardest of the nine ridiculously steep hills on the course. Crowds lined the route, most of which I managed to tune out through intense concentration. I was surprised to learn afterward that I passed a quarter-mile stretch of streakers without noticing. I finished a solid eighth, which moved me into twelfth overall on the general classification. The nearest team member to me was Lynn, who now sat two minutes behind me in forty-ninth place. Alyssa and Brenda, who had no illusions of placing high in the overall race, rode the time trial just hard enough to avoid being eliminated by the time cut.

On Stage 8 the next day, we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and ascended into Muir Woods. I knew that if I did well on this mountain stage, there was a good chance I could do well overall. On the first climb, I hung with an elite group of eight climbing specialists. Some other riders caught up to us as we descended into Sausalito, and the group swelled to fifty as we wound around San Pablo Bay. Finally, the group shrank to approximately twenty riders over the mountains surrounding Napa Valley. The day ended in Sacramento. I placed fifth for the stage. That was the good news. The bad news was that the muzzle I’d bought for Sonny didn’t work as planned.

Erica and Danny had driven just behind me throughout Stage 8. While Sonny’s muzzle cured his barking problem, it created a new problem. In an effort to get the muzzle off, Sonny clawed at himself and created a pool of blood in the back of Erica’s car. Erica felt bad for him and took the muzzle off, where upon he resumed barking at the breakaway and smeared his blood throughout the car. I was thirty feet away, riding into the wind with an earpiece, and I could hear him loud and clear. I was quite sure that without today’s result, Erica would have dismissed Sonny, and possibly me, without a qualm. However, I was now sitting seventh overall, first place on the team, and third among the Americans in the race. While Erica had hoped that her Bad News Bears team would do decently here and there, she hadn’t expected one of her riders to exit the first week in the top ten. Though Erica seemed happy, I got the impression that Sonny’s continued presence as team mascot was contingent upon me not having any crappy performances. I would try to oblige, but I also needed to fix the situation.