9. Deena

Deena

A s I came awake I realized three things simultaneously. I was so hot I was sweating. I needed to pee. And I seemed to be using a woman as a pillow.

Had I picked up a woman last night? The athletes at the Games were famously horny and promiscuous, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been hoping to get laid while I was here. It had been at least six months since my last partner and I was dying to take the edge off with some no-strings fun.

"Deena."

I stiffened as I realized that the woman I was laying on was no stranger. Crap. How had I ended up in bed with my roommate? We were both still wearing our pajamas, so I was fairly certain that we hadn't had sex.

"What happened?" I asked, pushing myself up to seated, then groaning as I felt the twinge in my back. Between the uncomfortably thin mattress and my using her ribcage as a pillow, I woke up feeling achy.

"You had a nightmare," Paula reminded me.

It all came back. My usual buried alive stress nightmare. Paula waking me up. Then me snuggling against her shoulder as she comforted me. Crap. Why did I have to be such a freak? Most of the time I was perfectly happy to be me, but it was times like this that I really wished I could be more like a normal person.

"I'm so sorry."

Paula stood up, wincing as she moved her neck from side to side.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked. "You can't help it if you have a nightmare."

"I'm sorry I woke you up," I clarified as I stood up. "And mauled you in my sleep."

She rolled her eyes.

"If that's your idea of mauling, I feel sorry for the women you sleep with," she teased. Then she paused as she realized what she said. "I mean, people. I feel sorry for the people you sleep with."

It was odd that she assumed that I was a lesbian. I mean, it was true, but I wondered why she thought that. Had she picked up on the fact that I'd had a crush on her for years even though she hated me?

"You're right, I'm a lesbian," I blurted out.

It suddenly felt really important that Paula knew that.

I'd been a bit of a late bloomer. I'd tried to sleep with a couple of guys back when I was in school and had zero reaction. I mean it was fine, and they'd seemed to enjoy it, but I just couldn't get my body to enjoy it. I thought maybe I was just frigid or asexual until the first time a woman came onto me in college. That's when I realized that I'd been oblivious to my own sexual orientation.

"I'm bisexual," Paula said quickly. "Although I've dated more women than men."

For some reason she seemed a little nervous. Maybe because I freaked her out. I wished I had the time and privacy to call my best friend Joan and talk to her about this, but I needed to pee and brush my teeth pronto before we were late for this morning's workout. Coach Radcliffe had no tolerance for people being late.

"We'd better get moving so we're not late for practice," I suggested. "Maybe we can grab something to eat on the way. I noticed last night there's a coffee cart nearby."

"Yes, coffee please," she added.

Paula and I headed for the restroom, separating as we each took care of our bio needs, then washed up and brushed our teeth. I could see Paula standing a few sinks down from me, staring at the mirror with a disgruntled look on her face as she took her hair out of the braids she'd put in last night. Her long locks immediately sprang out, poofy and super curly. I thought it was adorable, but clearly Paula disagreed, because she stuck her head under the sink and wet it enough to re-do her braids.

After we finished getting ready we stopped at a coffee cart outside our building and picked up coffee and a French baguette breakfast called tartine with jam and cheese. It was a bit of a walk to the track, so we decided to eat and drink our coffee as we walked.

Suddenly we heard a loud squawking noise and a bird swooped down, latching its beak onto the half-eaten tartine in Paula's hand. I was pretty sure it was a seagull, but whatever it was, it was determined to steal her breakfast and make it his own.

"Let go!" I called as my roommate stopped, her tartine in a death grip as she stared down the bird and tried to pull her breakfast out of its beak.

The bird flapped its wings, trying to get Paula to release the bread, but she held on tight. Finally she loosened her fingers and we both watched in shocked amusement as the bird flew away with the bread hanging out of its little beak.

"Hey bird, you're an asshole!" she called after it.

"Did that bird really just steal your bread?" I mused.

I'd seen it happen with my own two eyes but somehow I didn't believe it.

"And then you're playing tug of war with it, like you were going to still eat it if he let it go. What were you thinking?" I asked.

Paula gave me a rueful laugh. "I'm really hungry and that tartine was delicious. The gruyere was to die for."

We looked at each other and suddenly we were cracking up.

"I can't believe that happened," Paula laughed. "And why did he steal mine instead of yours?"

"He knew you were an easier mark," I teased.

"You mean he was scared of your mean mug," she teased back.

It felt good to laugh with someone. It reminded me how much I missed my best friend Joan, who lived in Minnesota. I didn't get to see her as much as I wanted.

"Maybe this is a good omen," Paula said. "Be accosted by a bird, win a gold medal in an international marathon."

"I don't think that's how it works," I replied. "The marathon is won by the person who runs the best time factoring in road conditions, weather and wind speed, nutrition, hydration, and race strategy."

Paula stopped again and shook her head at me. "You're secretly a nerd, aren't you?"

"Well, I am a physicist," I said seriously.

She started walking again, but her tone was light. "Of course you are."