Going in Circles (31 page)

I sling an arm around my friend and congratulate her. “That's so great. How lucky for you guys.”

“Lucky? No. I gave him just shy of an ultimatum. I asked him to make a decision about me, and then make a decision with me. He did both.”

“You should give him a certificate.”

“Charlotte,” she says, dropping her head to my shoulder, “you know I did.”

O
kay, I'm going to throw up.”

“You can't throw up,” Francesca says. “I'm going to throw up and I need you to hold my hair while I throw up. Plus if you throw up I'll totally throw up because I have that thing where watching someone throw up makes me throw up.”

The bout starts in twenty minutes. Francesca and I are decked out in our team uniforms, or “boutfits.” The theme for the bout is “Cops versus Robbers.” We're both dressed like hot lady cops, in dark blue miniskirts and collared button-up shirts that have patches that look like badges on the pocket. We're sporting dark fishnets and black thigh highs. Jonathan is going to have a field day when he finds out teams wear “boutfits,” but I don't care. We look fantastic.

Francesca is pacing, the carpeting making her skates useless. She has to lift her knees high and prance like a pony, barely covering any ground. Francesca lurches forward, and her skirt flies up, exposing her hot pants with the words
SEE YA
! written across her ass.

“We need a goal,” Francesca says. “You and me. Let's do something really badass together.”

Partnering is key in roller derby. If you try to play by yourself, you pretty much end up useless. It's something I've grown to really appreciate about the sport. You always need someone, and someone always needs you. Even the Jammer, who looks like she's on her own, actually has an entire pack of girls who have her back. We are all in this together.

I quickly come up with our goal. “Let's promise we'll take out the other Jammer together, at least once. Let's surround her and take her to the rail.”

“Deal. I'll get in front of her to slow her down, and then you hit her.”

“Hammer and nail,” I say, calling out the name of the play, as I tape my final certificate from Francesca on the wall over my space on the locker room bench. It reads:
CHARLOTTE “HARD BROKEN” GOODMAN IS OFFICIALLY FIXED
.

“Let's go kick some ass,” says my best friend and superbadass Hot Wheels Derby Devil Blowin' Past'er, number 69.

“Hey,” I say, taking her hand.

“What's up, Broke-Broke?”

I get down on one knee pad and look up to meet her confused gaze. “Now that I'm divorced, will you be my derby wife?”

She tackles me in celebration with such enthusiasm I worry I'm injured before the game even starts.

•   •   •

I've practically sprint-skated back to the dressing room because I decided I wanted an extra water bottle in the infield during the bout, and that's when I see Holden Wood adjusting his skates outside the referee dressing room. I quickly stop as quietly as I can and roll backward, tucking myself behind
the entryway. I can't believe I'm about to follow Bruisey-Q's whack-ass advice, but I stay hidden and watch him. He's holding his skate laces in two fists, awkward around his own gear.

The feeling I get is like how when sometimes you're doing two unrelated things at once—like reading a book while listening to music—the two things can magically unite. You hear a word in the lyrics sung the exact time you read that exact word in your book. It's impossible, but it seems like you made that happen.

As I watch Holden untie and retie his skates, I yearn for a memory I don't have yet. I realize I've been missing something for a very long time, and it's up to me if I want it again.

I want to step out of a bath clutching a helping hand, one attached to a man holding a towel. I want that warm, steamy, loving embrace that happens where he wraps me up in terrycloth and inhales me. I'm ready to find someone who wants to be there at that moment, to kiss my damp eyebrows and say, “You smell good.”

It's a moment that illustrates how private love can be. You, standing there like a child: clean and new, in nothing but your skin, still wet at the ankles, hair dripping soap-scented water. And someone takes care of you. It doesn't happen that often in life. And I really miss it.

Maybe it won't be with Holden. But it can't be with anyone if I don't stop being too scared to look.

I round the corner to let him see me. He breaks into a smile. “Kick ass out there, Broke-Broke.”

I try my best to stop right before I reach him, but I stumble on the tiled floor. He reaches out his hands, quickly steadying me.

“Sorry,” he says, even though I'm the one who should apologize. “I had to touch you just now, but it was completely legal. You were going to fall.”

“Maybe I fell on purpose.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “I think you want me to think that, but I know you just klutzed out in front of me.”

“I'm ready for you to ask that question now.”

My heart is racing and I can feel the blood in my face rushing to my cheeks. I hope he can't tell how nervous I am. It's been a long time since I hoped someone asked me out.

He smiles. “Which question? Because you waited a while, and now I have so many.” He rubs his jaw against his shoulder. “Where should I start?”

“How about I just answer all of them with yes.”

“Wow.” He kicks at my skate with his own. “
All
of them?”

“Call me and find out.”

“Ooh, Broke-Broke. I like it when you're flirty.”

•   •   •

Francesca and I are humbled by the size of our personal cheering section. I immediately spot Andy, Jonathan and Cassandra, my parents, and Francesca's parents, who look way more normal than I ever would have imagined. Francesca's mother is wearing a sweater set, for Pete's sake. And her dad looks adorably nerdy. I can't wait to meet them and tell them how awesome their daughter is.

Standing in front of all of them, holding an enormous sign that reads: “Faster, Past'er!” is Jacob, beaming with pride.

My mother has such a look of horror on her face, I'm afraid someone has just told her I've grown a penis. My father, on the other hand, looks so proud of me I want to burst
into tears. He's pointing at me while talking to the person who made the unfortunate decision to sit behind him. It makes me immediately wish I'd done more sports growing up, so Dad could have come to my games, beaming with this kind of pride. He looks so happy to be a dad. I watch him hook an arm through my mother's elbow, bumping into her with a grin. She loosens up, but only a little. When this is over, I owe my mom one usually insufferable brunch with the ladies from her knitting group.

I turn around to take a good look at my team, at this group of women who have spent hours with me, training with me, learning who I am, both inside and out. These women not only know what I'm made of, they knew what I was capable of before I did. They literally beat it out of me.

The lights go out around the crowd, the track is flooded in brightness, and the sound of cheering rattles in my chest.

Francesca grabs my hand. “Here we go!” she shouts.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the Rookieeeeee Rummmmble!”

•   •   •

There was a lot of falling. Especially at first. We're thirty incredibly nervous newbie skaters slamming into each other in front of a crowd of screaming people. But eventually we get used to the lights and the noise, and remember the game we've trained to play. We remember to look at each other, to partner up and focus on our goals.

Francesca and I are called to a lineup with Francesca jamming, and I'm the Pivot. Bruisey-Q, Stick-N-Stoned, and a refrigerator of a girl named Gigantasaur round out my pack. I quickly make a plan. Gigantasaur takes the back, knocking
the crap out of anyone stupid enough to come near her, preferably the other team's Jammer. Bruisey, Stoned, and I will take the front, holding back the other girls.

I follow Francesca's gaze to the other team's lineup. She sees Bloodfist pulling a Jammer panty over her helmet.

“You can take her,” I say.

“Quatro-Mama?” she says, beaming. “Not a problem.”

The whistle blows, and we take off. I jut out my hip, keeping one of the other team's Blockers from getting past me, but my eyes are firmly fixed on Francesca, watching her practically gallop her way toward us. To my surprise, Bloodfist is keeping a pretty good pace with her.

The other team clearly had orders to keep their focus on Francesca. She's hit as soon as she gets near the pack. She doesn't fall, spinning herself off the rail and swooping back in. But another Blocker is gunning for her, and I slow down to protect her, to try to take the hit before she gets it.

When I get to Francesca, I reach back my right hand, offering a whip. I know I can throw her up the high side and she'll be home free.

Francesca takes my hand, but she doesn't take the whip. Instead, she's firmly placed her Jammer panty into my palm.

We're Passing the Star.

I turn my head, eyes wide, and find her intense stare. Sweat drips from her chin as she growls, “Go!”

New play, new plan, everything changes. I take off as fast as I can, pulling the panty over my helmet as I pass the rest of the pack, the ones who haven't realized Francesca is no longer the Jammer; that I'm the one they're supposed to be stopping.

As I break through the pack and round the bend, I glance back to see if Bloodfist is behind me. She's on the ground—Francesca and Gigantasaur took her out.

I skate so hard I can feel my legs trembling all the way up my body. I push myself harder than I ever have before because now I'm jamming for two. These are Francesca's points I need to earn.

I score five points before I have to call off the jam.

From the other side of the track, I hear Francesca scream, “Fuck, yeah! That's my
WIFE
!”

There were other plays, there were other moments, but that's the one I'll remember for the rest of my life.

We won, by the way.

•   •   •

Sometimes I can't believe this all started with someone asking me, “Do you have a mouth guard?” In what other world could the answer to this question be a good thing?

The rules of the track work well for life. Roller derby is life in a tiny circle. You can only go forward, even if you find yourself turned around, facing the wrong way. There's speed, unpredictability, and danger. You can't be sure what's going to happen, you don't always know when you'll stop, and it appears most people are out to get you. You will fall. You will get hurt.

But you will get up again.

Look, what's the worst thing that could happen? Anything that hurts eventually heals. You get back up. You keep going. You get stronger. You get better. Life goes on. That's it.

. . . Or you get a skate to the face. You know. Either way.

Thank you twice: Alexis Hurley, Jennifer Heddle, Kim Witherspoon, Todd Christopher, Erin Searcy, Carolyn Sivitz, Allison Lowe-Huff (Marlo, you totally made your mother win Accountability Thursdays), Allison “Kiss M'Grits” Munn, Sara “Queen Elizadeath II” Morrison, Anna Beth “Dewit” Chao, Tara “Maimie Thighsenhower” Ariano, David “Tandoori Honeylips” Cole, Robin Shorr, Rafael Garcia, Don Todd, Angela “Risky A Go-Go” Bae, Kate “Agnus Die” Burns, Tara Armov, Trixie Biscuit, Shannon “Janis Choplin” Kobylka, Jessica “Tilda Whirl” Lasher, Katy “Tae Kwon Ho” Lim, Jennifer “Kasey Bomber” Barbee, Alex “Axles of Evil” Cohen, PITA, Haught Wheels, Kubonator, Terri “Helen Surly Frown” Murphy, Kelli “Kocoa Krunch” Hancock, Rachel “Sulfuric Astrid” Watson, Danica “Anya Handzaneez” Cleveland, Wanda B. Onya, Tandi Collisson and David Hawkins, Kate “Fantastikate” Gasparrelli, Thomas Refferson, Roger Assaultry, Rachel “Marina del RAGE” House, Cynthia “Cyntax Terror” Mazza, The Meteorfights, Hell's Belles, Merrill Markoe, Niya Palmer, Brently Heilbron, Vince Chao, Chris Huff, Brian Rubenstein, Daniel J. Rogge, Scott “Mister M'Grits” Holroyd, Liz Feldman, Jeff Long, Evany Thomas, Stephanie Markham, Jami Holland, my family, the good people who visit pamie.com, and especially Jason Wesley Upton . . . for all the gym socks.

BAMBI—Referring to the Disney character's first time on ice, describes the stance of a nervous newbie skater.

BLOCKER—The skaters who make up the pack. These girls try to make holes for their Jammers while simultaneously keeping the opposing team's Jammer from getting through the pack by hitting or obstruction. Each team gets up to four Blockers per pack. The leader is called the Pivot.

BOOTY BLOCK, “HIP CHECK”—Hitting or leaning on an opponent with your butt, hip, or thigh. You can legally hit from the hip to the top of the knee, but not below.

BANKED TRACK—As opposed to “flat track” roller derby, banked track roller derby is played on an oval-shaped inclined circuit track. All skating is counterclockwise.

BOUT—A game of roller derby played in four quarters broken into one-minute jams.

BOUTFIT—What a derby girl wears to the bout. It could be a uniform, it could be not much more than a bikini, a feather boa and a pair of fishnets, but know that she put a lot of thought into this design. No matter what, never ever call it a “costume.”

“CALL OFF THE JAM”—The signal that a Jammer is ending the jam. She places her hands on her hips, often repeatedly, furiously patting her pelvis, in order to get the ref's attention. Only the Lead Jammer can call off the jam.

“FALL SMALL”—To ensure you don't take out every other player on the track when you eat the ground, go fetal when you fall, or everyone loses.