Ripped - Cassia Leo Page 0,3

Edie arrives with her medical bag and the tick removal kit she picked up at the front desk for us. She removes the tick for Lindsay and cleans the wound, then she hands her a box of azithromycin antibiotic. She drops the tick into a zipped plastic bag so she can have it tested for Lyme disease when we get back to the States. When Edie’s gone, Lindsay heads straight to the closet and pulls out our empty blue suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

She heaves the suitcase onto the bed and I grab the handle to pull it away from her. “Come on. Don’t get ticked off.” I wince a little at the dirty look she shoots me. “Let’s just go to sleep and we’ll change hotel rooms after the quarterfinal tomorrow, whether or not I advance.”

“No, you’re not the one who’s possibly been infected with Lyme disease. You can stay and I’ll go.”

I curl my arm around her waist and take her breast in my hand as I pull her away from the bed. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. Lyme disease goes so well with coconut fever.” I squeeze her breast and she stomps on my foot. “Fuck!”

“I’ll give you coconut fever.” I immediately cover my nuts as she rounds on me, but she just shakes her head and goes straight to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. And I’m not going to your event tomorrow. I’m going to spend the day changing my itinerary. I’m leaving Tahiti tomorrow night. And I’m not taking any of my clothes back with me.”

I follow her into the bathroom and watch as she angrily rips off her clothing and turns on the shower. “You can’t leave tomorrow night. The sponsor dinner is the following night. Anyone who places in the quarterfinal has to be there. How’s it going to look if I brought my wife instead of my trainer and she doesn’t even show up to the dinner with me?”

“I’m not staying here two more nights. You can stay and I’ll leave. And your daughters can wonder where you are while you’re getting drunk with the sponsors.”

She steps inside the shower, so I raise my voice to be heard over the water. “That’s not fair. I don’t want to leave them any more than they want me gone.”

“Then don’t leave them. Retire. It’s not as if we need the money.”

This is not the first time Lindsay and I have discussed my retirement. We talked about it a lot this year while we were trying to get pregnant and while enrolling Kaia in her new school. But I always got the feeling that Lindsay wanted me to do what would make me happiest. Right now, I’m getting a strong feeling she wants me to put my happiness aside for the kids’ sake.

It’s not an unreasonable demand to make. But the thought of quitting the tours fills me with a deep hopelessness, something I haven’t felt since before we got back together nine years ago.

I peel off my clothes and step into the shower with her. I take the tiny shampoo bottle out of her hand and place it back on the shelf. Then I take her face in my hands and kiss her tenderly. Within seconds, she begins to cry.

“I just want you to be there for them.”

“I know.” I kiss her forehead and let out a deep sigh. “I’ll do it. I’ll retire.”

Two

Driving across town for a prenatal appointment in the middle of rush-hour traffic is not my idea of a relaxing afternoon. Lindsay and I got back from Tahiti two days ago. I like to spend at least a week recuperating from all the grueling competition and traveling before I get back to work, but duty calls.

Lindsay scheduled an emergency appointment with her doctor after the Lyme disease scare in Tahiti, and the doctor decided to combine this appointment with her first ultrasound. We found out about this pregnancy a bit late due to a false-negative home pregnancy test and a bit of spotting she mistook for her period, so she hasn’t had her first ultrasound yet. Then we had a hectic summer with the events in Fiji, South Africa, and Tahiti, and getting Kaia enrolled in the new school. We didn’t find out Lindsay was pregnant until we got back from Fiji at the end of June. By then, she was almost three months pregnant.

I turn into the parking lot of a sprawling office park, thinking about