Chapter 8: Part 8

Two weeks later, Lucia was attending her third derby practice.  She was only able to do eighteen laps in five minutes, as opposed to the twenty eight and thirty that the other two jammers could do, but that was more of a stamina problem for her than a speed problem..  Once she’d gotten more comfortable with her crossovers, and because of her very low center of gravity, Lucia could get very nearly horizontal around turns and had some very explosive burst speed.  

 

She was laying flat on the ground, panting and holding her side, even though she knew that applying pressure to a cramp wouldn’t actually relieve it.  Helen flopped down next to her, and handed her a water bottle.

 

“Thanks,” Lucia whined, as she tried to stretch it out.

 

“You did really good out there!”

 

“Nobody did less laps than me,” she cried, exasperated.

 

“Yeah, but you kept up with Amy and whatsherface for a while!  Nobody expected you to be able to do that yet.”

 

“Nanette?”  When Helen nodded, she added, “Fine.  Maybe.”

 

Helen clapped her on the thigh and smiled.  “It just takes time.  You’ll get your very own pair of thunder thighs soon.  I promise.”

 

“Oh!” she gasped happily.  “Is the Thigh Fairy gonna come into my bedroom at night?”

“Is that an invitation?”

 

Lucia, who had just taken in a mouthful from the water bottle, immediately spat it back out in a glorious spray.

 

For just a moment, while she tried to compose herself, she watched Helen’s expression darken as some of their teammates rolled by, but by the time she had her breath back it was gone. 

 

“Hey,” she said.  “I figured out what my derby name is gonna be.”

 

Helen turned back to her.

 

“Ann R. Kist. K-I-S-T.”

 

Helen barked, which was how she laughed when she’d been truly surprised, which did not happen often.  Helen had a habit of predicting the punchline, and seeing Lucia’s best jabs coming a mile away, which was probably part of what made her such a talented domme.  It was hard to really surprise her, which made it all the more rewarding when she did.  Which, in turn, made it all the more imperative to try.

 

“The only way,” Helen said, “that that could be more perfect is if your name was Ann.”

 

“It is,” Lucia said, eyes wide.  “It’s my middle name!”

 

“Lucia Ann Alvarez?”

 

“Lucia Anna Maria Guadalupe Alvarez,” she said, tilting her head slightly.  Then she smiled very faintly, and said, “Mami always used to call me Lucia Ann, though.  I like the way that rolls off the tongue.”

 

“I like the way you roll off the tongue too,” Helen said, waggling her eyebrows, and Lucia died.   “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Oh that’s good,” Lucia said, fanning herself with her flattened palm, “because I think I need to lie down.”  She set the bottle beside her and stretched out on her back again, which made it a little easier to breathe, and closed her eyes.  The sound of rubber wheels on the hardwood floor was, more and more, very soothing for her.  It was either that or the fact that she had a new obsession.  Or the exercise.  Or…

 

Lucia turned her head slightly, looking for Helen.  They hadn’t DTR’d yet, which, for once, Lucia was actually kind of maybe sorta looking forward to?  That was new.  Historically, she had reveled in the unlabeled, undefined spaces.  Also, historically, that hadn’t worked out for her.  It might have saved her from getting her heart absolutely crushed, but it had also kept her from making any real connections for years, and it had definitely not prepared her for the storm that was Hurricane Vivian.

 

She sat up and frowned.  It had hurt to think of Vivian, as it always did, but that had been the first time she’d thought about Vivian in… days?  A week?  That was new.

 

There had been a lot of new things in the last couple of weeks.  The bruises had only just healed on her backside; Helen had, indeed, owned a paddle.  After the concert, it had taken a few days before Helen would consent to be anything less than perfectly gentle with her, and, as Helen had predicted, Lucia found that she loved being a brat.  She was naturally stubborn, defiant, a complete glutton, and at every step Helen had surprised her.  Countered her.  Indulged her, to a point, without letting her go too far.  Lucia had never known where the line for ‘too far’ was, and it was different to have someone looking out for her.  Someone who wouldn’t let her cross that line even when she thought she wanted to.

 

It was hard not to fall for that, and she couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t.  Which was new, but also actually kind of maybe sorta good.  Really good.  Also, probably something she needed to tell Helen.

 

Lucia couldn’t quite manage to get upright straight from her butt, but she also didn’t need to roll over onto her hands and knees anymore, which had been kind of humiliating and kind of hilarious.  Her legs were tired, a good tired, especially in her thighs just above the knee, and she took a leisurely pace around the track to where Helen and their coach, Briana, were talking.  Briana saw her coming, and pressed her lips together.

 

“—’s ready!  Everyone can see it.”

 

Briana looked back and forth between them.  “Look, there’s no doubt that she’s coming along real fast.  I’m sure that, in another week or two, she’s gonna be in a position to play—"

 

“But Saturday is our chance to really make a statement!  The Scream Queens are in first place, and I think we can—”

 

“Helen,” Briana said, cutting in.

 

“If we let Lucia jackrabbit early in the game, whenever Freida is out there, Lucia could tire her out.  Frieda doesn’t know Lucia can’t keep up that pace the whole time.”

 

Briana leaned back, and folded her arms across her chest.  “Oh.”

 

“What do you mean, oh,” Helen said, irritatedly.

 

“So you’re gonna pretend this isn’t about Nanette.  Okay.  We’re doing this.”

 

Helen flinched, which was very unusual.  “No, not… No.  I just mean that—”

 

“You know Nanette lives for that matchup.  Going up against Frieda, head to head, is the only thing she ever asks for.”

 

“And she always loses,” Helen snapped.

 

“Yeah, my ass this isn’t about Nanette.”

 

Practice had been over for twenty minutes, and some of the girls had already headed out, but those that were left had started to gather in little packs and were looking at them.  Lucia absentmindedly moved a little closer to Helen.

 

“All I’m saying is—”

 

“It’s not, though, is it.  That’s not all you’re saying.  This is you, again, trying to undermine Nanette, and this time you’re using your friend here to do it.”

 

“Hey, leave Lucia out of this!”

 

“No,” Briana snapped, “you leave Lucia out of this!  I don’t have time for this petty bullshit, and I definitely don’t have the patience for it.  Sort your fucking life out!”

 

“Hey,” Lucia said, taking hold of Helen’s arm.  “Don’t worry about it.  Let’s just...”

 

Helen turned to her, smiled, shrugged, said, “Whatever,” and started to skate away, but Lucia knew better than to take that at face value.

 

Nanette was there, scowling at her as they rolled by, and she said, “He wasn’t a saint.”

 

“You know what?” Helen shouted, “Fuck you!  Fuck you!”

 

Lucia got in front of her, and the only reason Helen didn’t completely run her over was that Helen was focused past her and not on trying to get past her.  “No,” Lucia said, trying to redirect her rather than fight her.  “No!  Don’t!”

 

There had been a time where, if one of her friends had been insulted like that, Lucia would have been the first to get in someone's face, and it was strange when she realized that her priority here was Helen, and protecting her by protecting her from herself rather than protecting her by attacking everyone else.

 

Helen continued to unleash a torrent of expletives, but Lucia kept her from making it any worse than that.  After a few seconds she managed to push her off the hardwood and onto the carpet, and that seemed to jolt Helen out of her mindless barrage of fucks.  The redhead turned and Lucia followed along in her wake , and she said nothing when Helen didn’t stop to take off her skates.

 

“I’ll give you a ride,” Helen growled.  “Come on.”

 

Lucia nodded, and followed her outside into the parking lot.

 

She sort of knew that Helen drove a big truck, having picked up bits and pieces of things in conversation, but it was something different altogether to see the thing.  It was an ancient Ford pickup, the kind where the grill looked like a face with headlights that looked irate and tires that were wider than she was.  It wasn’t the biggest pickup she’d ever seen, but it was definitely the biggest one with the entire tailgate painted like a big trans pride flag.  The blue, pink, and white stood in contrast to the mix of gunmetal and primer grays found elsewhere.

 

Helen pulled down said tailgate, tossed her bag onto it, and extended a hand to her.  Lucia wasn’t exactly sure what she was being offered until Helen braced herself to lift, and she went with the flow.  A few seconds later, Helen joined her in sitting on the end of the tailgate, with their feet dangling over the edge.

 

“This is huge,” Lucia said.  She experimentally bounced her weight, and the bed of the truck creaked ferociously.

 

Helen scoffed.  “It might have been huge when it came off the line in seventy-five, but any stock half ton now is bigger than this.”

 

“I love it when you talk truck to me.”

 

Helen just glared at her.  “C’mon.  Put your shoes on.”

 

That was a bad sign, and Lucia suppressed her natural flirting instincts.  Once she had her shoes back on, Helen hopped down, moved around, and climbed up into the cabin.  Lucia followed, pausing just long enough to close the tailgate after her, and climbed into the passenger seat.

 

The truck was a fair amount older than she was, but it had a kind of wear to it that she could only describe as lovable.  Lucia had only ever lived in cities, regularly used mass transit, and spent a good half of her life on tour; she hadn’t owned a car in years, often borrowing them from others, but seeing this leviathan reminded her of how comforting it could be.  It was so clearly Helen’s, and she thought that, on some level, getting inside and driving around was probably a lot like coming home.  It wasn’t just a safe space, it was a mobile fortress.

 

Helen’s hair was wild, driving with the windows down.  She had one elbow resting in the open window frame, fingers pressed to her temple while she frowned furiously at the road ahead.  Lucia had never seen Helen look so… 

 

Rattled.  That was the word for it.

 

“So,” Helen said, eventually, “I need to tell you about Evan.”

 

Lucia said, hesitantly, “I mean, you don’t.”  When Helen scowled at her, she added, “I just mean that, like, I'm here to listen if you want to talk, but it’s okay to have some things that are private.  I’m one hundred percent Team Helen.”

 

“Don’t…”  She bit her lip and, after a minute, shook her head.  “No.  Not this.”

 

The night air smelled crisp, like someone was burning leaves, but there were no stars in the sky.  Red hair whipped around in a frenzy, riding a small storm.  It seemed appropriate.

 

“Evan and I had been friends for a long time,” she said.  Her voice sounded choked.  “I’d been on HRT for a few years, and went in for facial feminization and breast augmentation surgeries at the same time, and he…”—she paused to clear her throat—“he brought me daisies.  In the hospital.  That’s when it was, like...”

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She was silent for two left turns.

 

“I always knew that he liked me.  I just didn’t know that he like-liked me.”

 

Lucia shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

 

“I had a hard time with my transition, because I didn’t really separate my gender identity and my sexual preference.  I wasn’t unhappy dating women, which I’d done, but I felt this… pressure, from… I used to go to these parties, and did a lot of exploring, and learned about myself, and… it doesn’t matter.   What matters is that it felt like finally being able to live in my skin meant dating men.  Why go through all this trouble just to date women, right?  I could have done that before.  Today, I have no problem telling you that I am fully gay, but at the time?”

 

“Okay,” Lucia said, nodding as she listened.

 

“And bam, right out of the gate, here comes the sweetest guy I know.  He’s handsome, and he’s considerate, and he knows all about me, right?  I mean, I didn’t need to have any awkward conversations with him because we’d already had them, pre-transition.  He understood, and he was respectful, and, just, like, the nicest…”

 

“He was good for you,” Lucia offered.

 

“I could’ve done a helluva lot worse for my first real relationship,” she said.  “I had a lot of sex before my first relationship.  He was never… he was never what I wanted, not really, and I had a hard time feeling like I deserved more than something good, and safe, and supportive, and…”

 

She sniffed.  Loudly.

 

“Evan was good to me,” she said, finally.  “He made me feel good about myself at a time when it was really hard to feel good about myself.”

 

Another long pause.

 

"I got into derby through Evan.  He worked with Nanette at a plant in Fairview.  He’d known her for years, but then she and I met at a Christmas party one year and she invited me to try out.

 

"They did something with dry powder.  That’s what his job was.  I don't know what."  Then she swallowed.  "What matters is that, sometimes, they had to use nitrogen to cool the powders or the air or something, so that it wouldn't melt or catch fire.  Or, maybe both.

 

"Anyway, Evan was, like, the only person who knew how to do his job.  He was always having to fix other peoples fuckups."  She hesitated, and fidgeted every part of her.  Sat up straighter.  Wiggled in her chair.  Readjusted her grip on the wheel.  Slouched.  "November tenth, last year, he got into a fight with another employee about leaving a steel wool pad out that was wet with acid.  He'd started to use it, not realizing what was on it, you know, thinking it was just water, and it gave him a chemical burn on his hand."

 

"Jesus Christ," Lucia said.

 

Helen didn’t seem to notice she'd said anything.  "Yeah, Evan got upset sometimes, but that place was awful.  They took so much advantage of him!"  She stopped to sniff, and wiped at her eyes.  "A supervisor came over to break it up, and they said Evan stormed off.  He had… um… one of his jobs there was working in enclosed spaces.  He had special training.  So, right after the fight, he went over to clean this big tank they used, and once he got down in there, he collapsed and fell down to the bottom of it."

 

Lucia sat up, and turned in her seat.  "Did he have, like, a stroke?"

 

Helen shook her head.  "There was no air in the tank.  It had been flushed with nitrogen, and the ventilation cycle hadn't started before he got in.  It’s… you can’t tell when you’re breathing it.  Something must've broken to stop it from cycling, or else Evan would never have climbed in."

 

"Oh my god," Lucia said.

 

Helen wiped at her eyes again.  "Nanette said there was signage he should have seen, and that he missed it because he was pissed off and not paying attention, but she’s a fucking drone and she'd say anything if it made her corpo bosses happy."

 

That didn't quite jive with Lucia's impression of Nanette, such as it was, but she wasn’t in a position to argue.

 

"So he just laid there!  At the bottom of that tank!  No oxygen!  Nobody went in to get him for, like, two minutes!"

 

"Why not?!"

 

"Nanette wouldn't let them."  The scornful curl of Helen's lip was saying a lot.  "She stopped the first guy who tried."

 

"Would that guy have collapsed too?" Lucia asked.

 

"He could have tried!"  Helen wiped at her nose.  "There was a ladder!"

 

"They needed a ladder to get in and out of it, and there was no air?"

 

This time, Helen glared at her.

 

"How much did Evan weigh?"

 

"That's not the fucking point!" she screeched.  "Someone should have tried!"

 

"Okay " Lucia said, holding up her hands.  "Okay."

 

"He wasn’t breathing when they pulled him out!" she cried.  "They gave him CPR, and got his heart going, but in the… on the way to the…"  She shook her head erratically, and pulled over to the side of the road.  “Eleven forty-eight am.”

 

Lucia furrowed her brow in thought.  “So… earlier… that was about Nanette.”

 

Helen just stared ahead, face like a stormcloud.

 

The more she thought, the more her face pinched.  “You were using me to get rid of Nanette!”

 

Helen barked.  “Dear Kettle,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.  “You’re black too.  Sincerely, the Pot.”

 

Lucia’s head snapped back.  “I’m not... what?!”

 

"Don't be so naive," she snarled.  "It’s not a good look on you."

 

"What are you talking about?!"

 

The redhead threw up her hands in frustration.  “You’ve been using me since the moment we met.  I’m a rebound.  I get it.”

 

Lucia stared at her openly, mouth agape.  She wanted to say so many things.  She wanted to share thoughts she’d been having, and feelings she’d been feeling, but what came out was, “I’m not using you!”

 

Helen rolled her eyes.  “Evidence outweighs testimony.”

 

“Don’t you quote Gideon at me,” Lucia shouted.  “I introduced you to that!”

 

“What are you gonna do about it?”

 

“This isn’t you!  Since when are you this… this childish?”

 

“Since your girlfriend’s girlfriend showed up and showed me exactly where I rank in your life.”

 

“Vivian is not my girlfriend!”

 

“Evidence out—”

 

“Shut up!”  Even with the windows down, it was deafening.

 

Helen slowly turned back in her seat, eyes turned away, and grabbed hold of the steering wheel.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lucia said, shaking so hard that she could barely get the words out intelligibly.

 

Helen said nothing.

 

“I’m sorry, okay?”

 

There was no response.

 

“Don’t you get it?  I can’t be with her!”

 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to have feelings for you,” Helen said, quivering, “when every five fucking minutes I have to hear about your ex, or see your ex, or see the way you can’t stop thinking about her?”

 

“What about you?!” Lucia shrieked.  “How the fuck am I supposed to follow Evan, the perfect husband?  I mean—”

 

“Evan is dead,” she sobbed, “and fuck you for throwing that in my face!  It’s not like he’s gonna show up tomorrow with some new hottie and you’ll have to deal with watching me be jealous!”

 

Lucia balked.  “I’m not jealous of Delia!”

 

“Like hell you aren’t!”

 

She pressed her palms into her forehead and groaned.  “I’m sorry, okay?  I have… complicated feelings for Vivian, and it’s taken me a long time to figure out that I don’t love her.  Yeah.  Fine.  I care for her.  A lot.  She was really important to me,  and I feel awful that I hurt her and can’t make it better, but I don’t love her like she loved me, and not like I—”

 

She’d been about to say love you, but she hesitated, and Helen dove into the pause, saying, “You two deserve each other.”

 

“She deserves better than me!  She deserves more than I can give!  She—”

 

Lucia cut off abruptly when she realized what she’d said, and what she’d implied.

 

“And I don’t?”

 

Helen's flat expression turned ice cold, and so Lucia did what she always did when things got hard: she ran away.

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