CHAPTER 2

Selma Driscoll wasn’t ranked in the top five, but she’d been in the top ten throughout the entire season, moving up and down based on her performance. She’d been surprised at herself this year, too. Finally, things were starting to come together for her. She’d made the Canadian snowboard cross team and was the top-ranked Canadian there amongst the women. She’d been expected to make it at least through the first round of preliminaries and into the second round. Since only four racers would be in the final, she hadn’t been sure she’d make it that far, but she’d tried to have that confidence they told all athletes they needed to have.

In the great year she’d had leading up to the Games, she’d ranked as high as six, which meant that it was entirely possible she’d make it to the semis. Then, if she raced well there, she could be in the final, and in the final, three of the four boarders would get medals. That was how she talked about it when she was at home and staring into her mirror.

“You’re number eight in the world. You can take anyone in the first heat. You just have to show up. Then, in the next heat, you show up again. You’re in the semis then, and you can kick ass there, too. After that, when you’re in the final, you’re more likely to get a medal than not. So, tight lines, good air, stay low, and don’t mess up,” she told herself. “Then, you’re in, and you’re coming home with a medal around your neck.”

She’d repeated that mantra just that morning, and now, here she was, walking back to her room in Olympic Village housing, wishing she were at home already because she’d not only screwed it up for herself but for someone else, too. And not just anyone else – she’d screwed it up for Drew Oakes, who was a combination hero and crush for Selma, who had discovered she was bisexual by watching videos of Drew boarding years ago. Nine years Drew’s junior, Selma had gotten into snowboarding and skiing as a kid, but it was watching Drew that had her interested in boardercross.

She’d never actually been in the same preliminary heat with Drew before, but she’d been in a few semis and finals with her. They’d exchanged pleasantries, but that was about it. Drew wasn’t the type of boarder who was there to make friends with anyone. Still, the woman had always been polite to her and everyone else. Selma figured that she was there to race and win, but if she made friends along the way, that would be good, too. Not Drew, of course, who was one of the most focused people Selma had ever come across. It was one of the things she found most interesting about Drew, but it also meant that Selma hadn’t ever really introduced herself.

She’d only been boarding professionally for four years, starting on the pro circuit at age twenty after trying out the half-pipe and doing okay there but not liking it as much as she thought she would. She’d never gotten anywhere on the circuit there. After watching Drew race on video, though, she’d decided to race an empty boardercross course with a friend during a competition, and that was when she knew that was what she’d wanted to do. Selma had been rising in the ranks for Team Canada and in the world rankings ever since.

Now, she was a disappointment to her family, friends, her country, and herself. She walked into the room she shared with another snowboarder and flopped down on the twin bed that reminded her of her old childhood bed. She held the stuffed panda that she’d brought with her to her chest and stared up at the ceiling. Her only reason for being here was done, so she would be going home soon with no other reason to stick around. Selma certainly didn’t want to be at the closing ceremony now, even though it was just in a few days.

She wondered if Drew would be going home or if she’d stick around for it. Selma knew that because of an injury, Drew hadn’t been on the team previously, and while half-pipe and other snowboard events often had very young competitors, snowboard cross tended to have athletes that were a little older. All of the women in the heat today had been older than Selma. In fact, the youngest female racer overall was twenty-one years old. Drew was thirty-three, if Selma remembered correctly, which she did. Drew had had a chance four years ago but had missed out. At twenty-five, she’d been an alternate to the team because the USA had had the top three ranked boarders at the time, and Drew had been number five back then. Yes, Selma was pathetic for knowing all those details about someone she hardly knew, but Drew was the whole reason she was here, and on top of that, Selma was supposed to know her competition.

“You’re not sulking in here,” Miranda said when she walked into the room and saw Selma lying there clutching her panda.

“What else am I supposed to be doing? Booking my flight?”

“No. You need to eat. Come on. Let’s grab food downstairs and maybe walk around. I bet you could use some fresh air. It’s stale as fuck in here.”

“I was outside all day today.”

“Just a walk around the building.” Miranda sat on her own bed. “Come on, Selma. It happens to all of us.”

“You got through today.”

“I did, yeah, but the Czech and Austrian crashed in my heat and didn’t make it.”

“I’m done. In less than a minute, it’s all over, but not just for me – I’m responsible for Drew Oakes not medaling in the Olympics. She was supposed to win at least a silver. And she’s beaten Magda twice this season already, so she had a chance at gold. Now, because of me, she doesn’t anymore.”

“That’s the sport. There’s contact even when we don’t want it, Selma,” Miranda said with a heavy shrug of her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s eat. Then, if you want to book that flight, I’ll help however, but you should stay for the closing ceremony. You know there’s no guarantee any of us will get back here in four years. It might be the only one you get.”

“Nah. I wanted the opening ceremony, so I’m good. I just want to go home.”

“Well, first, dinner.”

Minutes later, they were down in the cafeteria shared by the Canadian, British, and US teams, and Selma did not want to be there. Drew Oakes was sitting at a table by herself, not really eating, more staring off into space – or rather, out the window in front of her – and Selma had done that to her.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, deciding that it was better to face it now because if not, she’d regret going home without at least trying to apologize.

“Shit. Okay. Yeah. I’ll save you a seat,” Miranda said and joined the food line.

Selma walked slowly over to the table as if hoping that her legs would somehow turn her around on their own, but when they didn’t, she stood next to Drew and closed her eyes for a second, gathering courage.

“Um… Hi,” she said eventually.

Drew looked up at her and seemed surprised to see her.

“Hey,” she greeted, looking and sounding less than enthused that Selma was there.

“Uh… Selma Driscoll.”

“I know who you are.”

“Right. I just thought I should introduce myself since we’ve never really done that. You’re usually wearing your headphones.” She mimed headphones, or rather, earmuffs more than anything on her own ears. “So, I know this is the sport and things like this happen, but I wanted to apologize because I don’t know what happened. I swear, I had enough space. Then, suddenly, I didn’t, and I was clipping you, and that caused me to fall and–”

“Hey, it’s the sport; like you said. It sucks, yeah, but it is what it is,” Drew replied. “So, whatever.”

“You were supposed to win.”

“What?”

“You were going to medal. I had you winning gold and me being lucky enough to make it to the final.”

“Well, thanks for the confidence, I guess,” Drew said. “Look, I appreciate this. I know it probably took a lot to come over here right now. But I’m waiting on someone, and we’re going to eat together, and I kind of want to be alone.”

“Alone with someone?” Selma asked and wished she could take it back immediately after.

“Andy Weinman, one of the other US boarders, is my girlfriend. So, it’s both alone and together, you know? She’s going to help me drown my sorrows tonight, so…”

“Right. Sorry,” Selma replied. “I mean, sorry again. I really don’t know what happened.”

“You were too tight on your turn.”

“What?”

“That turn wasn’t as tight as the one before it, but you probably took it like the previous one, which made your board twist a little, and there you go.”

“I raced that course. I know how tight the turns are.”

“Do you? Did your board have too much wax on it or something?”

“No, it was fine.”

“Then, it was how you took the turn.”

“How do you know that? You were in front of me.”

“You think I haven’t watched that video, like, a dozen times already? I was watching it before you walked over here. Look.” Drew picked up her phone and unlocked it. “Here. Want me to start at the beginning of the course or right before you took me out of the race because you didn’t know how to take a turn?”

“Babe…”

Selma looked up and noticed Andy Weinman approaching the table. She put her hands on Drew’s shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek.

“She didn’t believe me,” Drew replied.

“Hey, Selma.”

“Hi, Andy. I was just leaving. I only wanted to apologize.”

“Accepted,” Drew said. “Do you want to look at this, though?”

“Drew, I’m sure she doesn’t want to relive it just yet.”

“Actually… Yeah. Show me,” Selma said and sat down next to her. “I didn’t take the turn too tight.”

Drew pressed play, and they all took off on the screen.

“Your start was strong. You even kicked my ass.” Drew pointed at her phone. “And you were doing well here, but this is where you started to lose it. You took this turn fine, but you didn’t correct for the next turn. And here is where you clip me and knock me on my ass because you took the turn too tight and didn’t leave yourself space. My guess is your board was over-waxed, too. You should talk to your waxer. It’s why you couldn’t correct.”

“You just know all that?”

“I’ve been on a snowboard since, well, probably before you were born, so, yes, I know.”

“She just means that she knows a lot about boarding,” Andy added and moved her arm over Drew’s shoulders.

Selma looked away from the intimate gesture because as much as she saw Drew as her boarding hero, she’d never quite gotten over her mild-to-medium crush on the beautiful woman with short blonde hair that she currently had slicked back, piercing green eyes, and freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. She’d known Drew Oakes was a lesbian. She’d even known that the woman was dating a fellow teammate. Selma hadn’t seen them together until now, but it shouldn’t bother her because Drew could date whomever she wanted. Selma, too, had a significant other. She and her boyfriend had been together for six months now. She was almost ready to take some pretty big steps with him, but she’d been holding back, and with the Games coming up, she’d put most of her focus there and not on trying to figure out why she wasn’t ready.

“Well, I have a coach. He failed to mention any of this after the race, but I’m sure I’ll hear all of this from him when I get back home,” Selma said.

“I hope so. If not, he’s not doing his job,” Drew stated.

“He’s one of the best coaches in the world,” Selma retorted.

“I’m sure he is,” Drew replied and set her phone back down on the table.

“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll leave you alone and go book my flight home or find someone on the team administration to do it. I don’t even know how that works. God.”

“They’ll book it for you,” Andy said. “And you’re not staying?”

“No reason to. You won today, right?”

“I came in second, but yeah.”

“Congrats. And good luck.”

“Thanks,” Andy replied.

Drew didn’t say anything else to her, though, so Selma walked off, skipped dinner, and went back to her room to pack. She had a flight out the next night and was back home in her own bed by the following morning.

She hadn’t asked anyone to give her a ride home from the airport, choosing to delay the inevitable and sneak into her own room without anyone even knowing that she was home, which wasn’t at all how she’d planned her return trip. She’d figured she’d come home with either a medal or having raced well a few times with a good loss under her belt that she could live with.

At nine in the morning, she was woken up by a text from her boyfriend, who had no idea that she was home.

“Hey,” she greeted when he called after she texted back that she’d gotten home a few hours before.

“You’re home?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were flying back?”

“I just got on the plane and came home. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I could’ve picked you up, babe.”

“I took an Uber. It’s fine. I just got into bed, though, so I was hoping to get some sleep.”

“I can take the day off work; call in sick.”

“No, I need to be here.”

“And I can’t be there,” he said. “When are you going to finally–”

“Not today, okay?” she requested. “I’m tired, and sad, and I just need to be with my family.”

“It’s been six months, Selma.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I need sleep, okay? I’ll call you later.”

“Okay. I’ll be home around six. I can swing by and pick you up for a welcome-home dinner, take you someplace nice.”

“Maybe another night, okay? I’m pretty jet-lagged.”

“Yeah, okay. My girlfriend has just been gone for almost a month and has been pretty busy that whole time. I feel like I’ve been really supportive, but I would like to see her now that she’s home. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I didn’t even know you were here. You could’ve at least texted that you’d gotten home safely, Selma,” he said.

“I think we should break up,” she replied.