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“The Coast Guard got there quick. We were lucky, all of us lived.” But I knew Ian still had days when he might not agree he felt so lucky. At first, he’d worked hard at rehab, but then something had changed. As far as I knew, he hadn’t walked in years. He sequestered himself in one of his family’s homes, taking pain meds, confined to a wheelchair. He had more inherited money than most people would know what to do with. But it hadn’t bought him happiness.
And now some blog had published a story accusing me of being responsible for his injuries.
“I never should have fallen off that boat. I was the strongest in the water of all of them. I was the one who thought he was a hot shot, the competitive swimmer of the group. But what did I do? I instantly went down, risking Liam’s life, leaving Ian and Jax to fend for themselves.”
Emma wrapped her arms around me. “Chase, it sounds like there was nothing you could do. You were thrown off the boat and started sinking down to the bottom of the ocean until Liam grabbed you.”
I nodded, knowing the truth of her words. But guilt was a strange thing. It gnawed away at you even when it didn’t necessarily make sense.
“I’ve played it over and over in my head. I should have held on. I never should have fallen off. Then maybe things would have been different. Maybe Liam or I could have helped Ian when he needed it.”
“You talk like you had a choice about it.” Emma tried to stop me from beating myself up. “You got caught in a near hurricane. The boat snapped in half.”
“Still, I was the swimmer. I should have been able to keep everyone safe.”
She just hugged me, holding me tight, and that helped even more than words.
“I wish like hell I’d never stepped foot on that boat.” It felt good to admit it. “Or at least that I’d tried to talk them into returning it. Instead of hopping right on board.”
“But you were 14.” She kissed me, trying to soothe me. “You were a 14-year-old boy.”
I could feel the steady beating of her heart, her chest against mine. I knew regret didn’t do any good. It ate away at you, corroding your life. But if I could change one thing, it would be the moment I walked on that boat.
“Somebody must have talked to that blog,” I said, ruefully. “They must have been sniffing around Naugatuck until they found someone willing to sling around some mud.”
“Do you know which blog it was?” Emma asked in a small voice.
“Something stupid sounding. The Rio Rap Sheet, I think. Bloodsuckers. They need to get a life. Isn’t there enough news here at the games without making up shit?”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, still looking shell-shocked.
“It’s not your fault.” I reached over and took her hand. She looked ashen, truly shaken by my story. “Hey,” I stroked her cheek and pulled her closer. “I’m OK. It happened a long time ago. And this will blow over. Our PR team is working on a response. I got pissed about the story, but I can’t let it knock me off course. I won’t let it.”
“No, of course not.” She leaned back against me, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you ever got back into the water after that happened.”
“Getting on a boat still isn’t my favorite thing,” I admitted. “But I had to swim. I had to prove it to myself.”
“I think you’ve proved it to the world by now.” She reached up and kissed me. I entwined a hand in her hair, ran my other along her waist. She felt so good. How could I stay upset with her melting in my arms?
“So you think I’ve proved myself?” I couldn’t help asking, gold medalist that I was, as I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her another kiss.
“Yeah. Except for that silver medal you won,” she teased me, shaking her head in pretend disappointment. “That’s just embarrassing.”
I burst out laughing. She knew exactly how to lighten my mood.
“I mean, show some respect, man.” She started laughing, too, and I wrestled her down to the bed, tickling her until she screamed for me to stop. We lay, panting, her cheek on my chest.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “That was ridiculous of me to say. I just, I don’t know what to say. That’s such an awful thing you went though.”
“It felt good to tell you the whole story.” I hadn’t realized how much it had been oppressing me, lying heavy on my chest, a barrier between me and everyone I’d met since the accident. None of them knew what had happened, and because of that they couldn’t really know me. Now Emma did.
“And I’ll meet Liam tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” I agreed. “When I swim the 200 fly.” My favorite event. Most humans tired after the first 100 meters of butterfly. Not me. That’s when I really got going. Plus, I’d have both Emma and Liam there to cheer me on.
We lay together, lazy in bed, hands and mouths drifting, exploring. Clothes came off and we gloried in each other, stroking, coaxing, loving for hours. I broke away to eat—I had to do that—but then I returned to her arms, her legs, her body, Emma.
It felt like a dark cloud over me had lifted. I couldn’t make things right with Ian, but somehow the years of secrecy around the accident had compounded to make it all worse in my head. After telling Emma, I felt lighter than I had in years. She was like a gift, arriving at just the right moment in my life.
And I had all kinds of plans for keeping her there in the future. After the games, I wanted to travel together. Wherever she wanted to go, I’d say yes. And then, hell, maybe I could head down to Florida for a while? It was a swim-crazy kind of a state. There had to be some team somewhere that would be excited about having a former Olympian as a coach. With Emma, I had a feeling everything would work out perfectly.
§
Tuesday, before I swam, Liam arrived and found me in our team room.
“There he is!” We bear-hugged like brothers. He looked good, healthy, the handsome devil all the girls flocked to without him even trying.
“Now, who are you about to go smack down?” He put down his duffel bag, instantly all business, wanting to hear about my next event. I f
illed him in about my two closest competitors, one my teammate, Chris, and the other a powerhouse from South Africa. Plus, there was a wildcard from China in the seventh lane. The guy was an erratic swimmer, but when he was on he was on.
“You’re going to do this, Chevy. I know it.” I nodded. I could feel it, too. “And then you’re going to introduce me to your girlfriend.”
I broke out in a smile. He and I both knew how much he enjoyed using that term associated with my name. He loved to ride me about how my “all work no play” ethic wasn’t good for me. “At least get yourself a girlfriend, man,” he’d frequently chastised, as if he found my lack of action personally insulting. But he was one to talk. Though he had more than his share of opportunities, he hadn’t gone all-in over anyone yet, either. It almost seemed as if he were holding himself back over something, or someone.
“Go make me proud!” Liam and I fist bumped, and he walked out of the room leading me and my teammates in a “USA! USA!” chant. He was going up to sit with my parents, brave soul. They’d known him and his family for almost two decades, and by now they’d at least stopped fighting the fact that we were friends. But they were resigned about it, as if thinking, “after all those private schools we sent you to, this is the best you can do for a friend? A fireman?”
I knew they’d never say exactly that to my face, but they were pretty transparent. They’d both worked hard to climb their way up the social ladder in the Boston area. Money, of course, opened most doors, and then my mother battered down the rest of them through her incessant involvement in charitable works—at least the party-giving end of them. My elite training and education, culminating at Stanford, was their crowning achievement. Now if only I would fall in line after this whole swimming thing, join the hedge fund and the country club, marry a Wellesley grad and start sending out Christmas cards with us and our two kids on ski slopes in Aspen, all would be well!
