Fiction—Romance, Women’s Fiction
Date Published: August 2018
Publisher: Front Street Press
Elite athlete Rainey Abbott is an intense competitor on the outside, but inside, she feels a daunting apprehension about her chances of finding true love. Her life as a downhill skier and race car driver keeps her on the edge, but her love life is stuck in neutral. A tragedy from her past has left her feeling insecure and unlovable.
Now that she’s in her thirties, Rainey’s best friend Natalie insists she take a leap and try online dating. Rainey connects with brian85 and becomes cautiously hopeful as a natural attraction grows between them. Fearful a face to face meeting could ruin the magic, Rainey enlists Natalie to scheme up an encounter between the two where Brian is unaware he is meeting his online mystery woman. Rainey is left feeling both guilty about the deception and disappointed by something Brian says.
When they finally meet in earnest, Rainey’s insecurities threaten to derail the blossoming romance. As she struggles with self-acceptance, she reveals the risks we all must take to have a chance for love.
Chapter
7
Monday morning
comes, still without word from Brian. My laptop slept next to me in my
queen-sized bed in lieu of a companion, and my inbox was the first action of
the day, beyond silencing my alarm. With no message from Brian, my day starts
off at an all-time low. It is a chore for me to extract my body from the
comfort of my bed and ready myself for school. Getting ready feels like the
strain of a marathon and as I look in the mirror, my eyes are dull, and a frown
settles on my face. It’s not just Brian, but my mother’s memories and the
thought that once again, I’m not sure how to handle the curve balls of my life.
I opt to forgo the eye make-up today. I can’t be sure it won’t run down my face
as I’m likely to weep through the day.
When I get to work, I am fully centered on Brian and whether I
should have been so upfront about the tragedy of my life. Thinking and
overthinking has me preoccupied, and I act edgy with the kids. I’ve made up a
million scenarios about why he hasn’t written back yet, and none of them are
good. He doesn’t want to get involved with a girl with baggage, or he met
someone better online last night, or I scared him away like I knew I would.
Fine, I don’t need him
anyway. Although I know,it’s a lie. Even though we’ve
only had a couple of exchanges, I’ve begun to like the company. And after
getting the story of my mom and Sunny out in the open, I felt like maybe I
could start to open up even more. That is if he hasn’t shut the door on me
already.
Today, I’m glad I have a video planned for my students because I’m
not in the mood to teach anything new. I put in the DVD and head back to my
deskandcomputer. I want to avoid opening my email at work, and I already turned
off the automatic alert on my smartphone. I will not let this dating thing
distract me from my day. I need to focus fully on the things I do—work,
workout, spend time with friends. I don’t want my mind wandering. But as I sit
there watching the video, I am distracted by my efforts to be undistractable.
***
It’s a quiet drive
to the gym for my usual afternoon workout followed by dinnerforone and a solo
night on the couch watching my favorite TV show. I’m starting to see how there
could be something to this relationship thing. What if I had the guts to see Brian in person? I imagine us in the
kitchen, on a cold winter night, cooking up a pot of stew and fresh biscuits.
The kitchen would fill with the scent of comfort foods, and we would feel the
closeness of creating something together. We’d take our bowls to the living
room floor, spread out a blanket in front of the fire, and have a picnic as we
share stories from our childhoods—laughing at the good ol’ days.We’d clean up
together and cuddle on the couch to watch movies. I can imagine the warmth of
him spooning me and letting the very shape of my body mold into his. I haven’t
been held that close in so long, I don’t even remember what it feels like to
experience such intimacy and the ability to let go and be oneself. Please, I beg silently to the universe
or whomever else might be listening, let
Brian be that special someone.Don’t let me have scared him away.
My self-pity is interrupted by my cell phone ringing. It’s Natalie.
“Hi.” I answer the phone in an exasperated monotone.
“Geez, what’s up with you, Ms. Grouchy-Pants?”
“I told Brian about Mom and Sunny and haven’t heard back from him. I
knew this wouldn’t work. My life is tragic. No one wants to be swallowed up in
my baggage.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! How long ago did you send that message?”
“Saturday night.”
“Don’t you think you could be overreacting a bit? That is a lot to
dump on someone you don’t even know. How many messages have you traded so far?
Two, three, four? Give it time. I know you’re not the most patient person, but
really. Take. A. Deep. Breath.”
“You’re right. I know. It’s just … I see Gabe. The face he made when
he saw me for the first time. It’s like the image is seared in my brain. I went
from seeing stars in his eyes to looking into the black hole of his pupils
where I felt he couldn’t or didn’t want to see me at all.”
“You were both fourteen! Give Brian a break. He’s a grown man and
men need time to process. And it never happens on a woman’s timeline. That much
I know. Go easy on yourself and go easy on him. If it’s meant to happen, it
will.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry to dump my insecurities on you. I’ll give it
more time. But for now, I’ve got to try to get some sleep. I have work
tomorrow.”
“Okay. Text me when you
hear from him.”
“Will do. Goodnight, friend.”
“Night, Rainey.”
***
It’s nine o’clock
when I hang up with Natalie, and I realize if I don’t get to bed, morning is
going to come much sooner than I want, so I lock up, turn off the lights, and
head to my bedroom. On the way there, I divert to the guest room, which I have
turned into my office. This is my favorite room in my house because it’s the
one where I throw all rules of conservative (proper) decoration out the window.
With a combination of tangerine orange and bold pink walls, it’s both cheerful
and whimsical. Most of the décor are the brightest pieces I have collected from
my trips around the globe—figurines, wall art, and other accessories. They dot
the room with the colors of turquoise, light greens, and pale purple. A white
desk sits in the back of the room, with a photo of our four-person family
framed in just the way I want to remember us, wearing black t-shirts and jeans,
sprawled out on a beach blanket in front of the clear blue ocean. My mom, Sunny
and I, all with fresh tans and long, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. My dad
sits in the middle, proud and protective of his “girls.” It’s so stellar, so
perfect. One might have thought Annie Liebovitz took it for an issue of Vanity Fair.
Nothing about my office feels ordinary. I wanted it that way; to
create the impression that living outside the lines was an okay way to live.
It’s how I feel about the way my life has been handed to me. Nothing about it
says inside the box. But sometimes, I
think maybe it’s too different for others even to understand me. Perhaps I’m
too far out of Brian’s comfort zone. Humph,
and we were just getting started. I conveniently pass my computer desk and
decide to give my messages one more check. Braced for the worst, I am relieved when
up pops a message from Brian85.
May Belle:
I’m
sorry I haven’t responded to your last message. I feel badly to have left you
waiting, not one, but two days. I wanted to write, but I simply didn’t feel I
had the proper words to say. I can’t say I know how you feel, or relate on any
level, and that made me feel … well … helpless. And if you know men at all, you
know dealing with that emotion is not our forte. Regardless, I’m glad you
opened up to me. It made me feel a connection to you, and I am honored you felt
like you could expose the real you and be unguarded with what you had to say.
It takes courage and strength, which I admire. It also helps me understand you
better and your fears of opening your heart to someone. I can imagine with a
loss like that.It’s easy to stay distant.
It’s
also frustrating to me that, while we can share words, we are still so new to
each other it’s hard for me to know how best to show you I am sympathetic to
your loss. That I am a real, live, breathing, feeling person on the other end
of this computer, thinking about you and wishing I could offer a condolence
with which you could feel my sincerity and how I genuinely care. That might be
something to wait until we meet in person.
With
that said, your assumption is right. Your email did take the words out of my
mouth and gave me quite a pause. I am sorry to hear you’ve experienced such a
tragedy. What I am not sorry about is asking you about your mom because May, I
want to get to know you. And how else can you get to know someone if you’re not
willing to ask and answer the hard questions? The strength you showed in
sharing it at all exposes your vulnerability. And honestly like that is what
makes relationships work. If we hold back all vulnerability, we can’t truly
connect. And I don’t know what it is, but I already have a feeling about you; a
feeling you are someone with whom I could relate and appreciate. You make me
smile, and you make me think. You’re genuine and passionate. I can’t put my
finger on it, but I like you. You make me feel like a sponge, and I want to
soak in everything there is to know about you. So how about telling me about
your dad?
And
since you’ve lain so much out there, it must be my turn. But do you have to go
straight to the jugular and ask me, a man, about my fears? Aren’t you aware,
fear is a four-letter word and to admit I have one (or multiple), by definition
robs me of my masculinity? Men aren’t supposed to be fearful; we’re supposed to
be invincible. We’re supposed to be strong, and stoic, and be able to fix
things. But you, you're not one to beat around the bush, are you? Trying to
steal my man card the first time out. For the sake of getting to know each
other, and because I get a hunch I might like you, I’ll tell you.
My
biggest fear is not being good enough. I’ve always felt, in my family, I have
big shoes to fill. My father is a talented and sought-after surgeon. My older
brothers have successful careers in scientific research and software
development. I might be way out of line because I look up to them, being the
youngest, but I have always felt I didn’t quite fit in. It seems like everyone
in my family has achieved recognition in his pursuits, and I feel like I’m
still finding my way. I’ve always been the dreamy kid, artsy in a world of
left-brainers. I’m in right field by myself. I love art, writing, and finding
the next great feature story. Suffice it to say, my greatest fear is letting
people down. Letting myself down. I'm a perfectionist, at least in my work, and
it makes for a difficult existence. I try to relax, but it's hard. I've pushed
myself a lot. I love what I do, but I always wonder what other people think. Do
I measure up? I’m not even sure how to tell. Is it a feeling or does someone
tell you when you’ve gotten there? How do you know what there truly means and when you’ve arrived at success? If you have
the answer, I’d love to hear it.
I
must sign off for now because I’m headed out to play a late-night pickup
basketball game with the guys. I’m looking forward to meeting you and hope it
won’t be much longer!
Bri
I read his message and can only think he’s genuine and transparent—he’s
passing all the right tests.
I pull out my phone and text Natalie.
He wrote! (I follow it with seventeen smiley face icons)
I knew he would, Rainey. You just need to relax.
I know, but I can’t! I’m in serious ‘like.’
She returns with a string of hearts. Now don’t seem too eager. Give
it the night and write him back tomorrow.
The voice of reason has spoken. And I promptly ignore it.
About the Author
Tricia Downing is recognized as a pioneer in the sport of women’s paratriathlon, as the first female paraplegic to finish an Iron distance triathlon. She has competed in that sport both nationally and internationally, in addition to competing in road racing and other endurance events. She has represented the United States in international competition in five different sport disciplines—cycling (as a tandem pilot prior to her 2000 accident), triathlon, duathlon, rowing and Olympic style shooting, in which she was a member of Team USA at the 2016 Paralympic Games in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
She was featured in the Warren Miller documentary Superior Beings and on the lifestyle TV magazine show Life Moments. She has been featured in Muscle and Fitness Hers, Mile High Sports and Rocky Mountain Sports magazines.
Additionally, she is founder of The Cycle of Hope (www.thecycleofhope.org), a non-profit organization designed for female wheelchair users to promote health and healing on all levels—mind, body and spirit.
Tricia studied Journalism as an undergraduate at the University of Maryland and holds Masters degrees in both Sports Management (Eastern Illinois University) and Disability Studies (Regis University).
She lives in Denver, Colorado with her husband Steve and two cats, Jack and Charlie. Visit Tricia at triciadowning.com
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