18. Paula

Paula

" M artinez! What the hell happened to you last week?" Coach Radcliffe barked, making everyone in the locker room jump. "You missed the post-race interviews as well as the closing ceremonies."

It was my first Monday back at the training program after the International Games. The rest of the team who'd gone to Paris had returned late last night, so I was surprised to even see Coach Radcliffe here today. None of the track and field people were coming in. Neither was Deena, thank God.

I was calmer now than I'd been when I took off in Paris, but I still wasn't ready to see her. My emotions were too much of a jumble.

"I, uh, I just needed to leave," I prevaricated. "I texted you to let you know I was flying back early."

Coach Radcliffe's face creased into a frown. "My office. Now."

I followed her out of the locker room and into the large office she had up the hall. All of the coaches in this program had nice offices with large windows, high-end furniture, and their own private bathroom. The company knew that the coaches were the ones who attracted athletes to the program, and they were also the ones who helped retain the talent, so they spared no expense making the coaches comfortable.

Once we got into the office, Coach Radcliffe directed me into a chair. I slumped down, staring at her shoes while she leaned against the desk.

"I saw the video," she began.

"Yeah, so did I," I said bitterly. My social media had been inundated with comments and tags drawing attention to the video.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

I jumped at her vehement tone.

"What do you mean?" I could hear the defensiveness in my tone. "I tried to grab Deena's hand so we could cross the finish line together, and she recoiled from me and left me in the dust. She stole my chance to have a medal."

"Did you fall on your head in Paris, Martinez?" Coach Radcliffe's voice rose. "This wasn't some Thanksgiving fun run in small town Iowa, this was the freaking International Games! You were there as a professional athlete, not someone's buddy."

She began pacing as she continued her tirade. "I don't know what's going on with you two, and I really don't want to know. But the fact was that you both had a job to do. You were representing the U.S. of A., and no one wanted you to do anything but your best. Fucking around trying to hold hands took your attention away from where it needed to be. Finishing. I'm sure Lovelace had no idea what you were doing, given that she was focused on her race like the damned professional she is!"

By now she was yelling. As her words sunk in, I realized with a sinking feeling that it wasn't Deena who did something wrong, it was me.

"I'm sorry Coach, it's just, well, I fell in love with Deena, and I thought she loved me too, so I thought it would be romantic to cross the finish line together."

If I'd expected any sentimentality from Coach Radcliffe, I was sorely mistaken.

"Fall in love on your own time. When you're racing as a representative of this program, I expect you to be one hundred percent focused on the race, no matter who your competition is or how you feel about them."

The coach was so angry that her face was turning red, and I couldn't blame her. If I was in her shoes, I'd be furious with me for acting so immaturely.

"Yes ma'am," I mumbled. "I'm sorry. And I'll apologize to Deena as well."

Oh my God, Deena, I'd really messed things up between us. I wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to talk to me again.

"You'll have to send her a letter," Coach Radcliffe said. "She quit the team."

I jolted in my chair. "What? She can't just quit the team. We have contracts."

"Her contract expired July thirty-first. She agreed to a two-week extension to attend the International Games, and her agent notified me this morning that she doesn't plan to renew." The older woman sighed. "She gave me some shit about Deena wanting to go out on top."

It was clear that she thought Deena's decision was based on personal factors more than running.

"Um, I don't suppose you'd be willing to share Deena's address?" I asked. "Or her phone number? I don't have any of her contact information."

"I'm not at liberty to share that information, Martinez. But I will tell you that Lovelace isn't in California anyway. She flew home to see her family."

I stood up, suddenly eager to get to Mather, Minnesota, wherever that was.

"Coach Radcliffe, I need to take a few…"

"Yeah, yeah, take some time off and go grovel to your girlfriend, or whatever the hell she is to you," the coach interrupted. "And don't come back until you have your head on straight."

I hurried home to pack and book a flight. It was a four hour flight and Minnesota was two hours ahead of California, so by the time I arrived it was already nighttime. Resisting the urge to rent a car and drive out to the country in the in the dark, instead I got a room at a hotel near the airport, ordered a pizza, and spent the night strategizing on how I could approach Deena.

But first I had to find her. Fortunately, Mather was a small town, and I was betting the residents were psyched to have an International Games medal holder in their midst. If I could just get to Deena's hometown, someone was bound to help me find her.

Hopefully.