Page 1 of Stroke Rate

River

Before

February:

“Woooo,” Brooke’s excited scream echoed off the walls of the University of Wyoming aquatic center. The kids jumping, yelps of joy, and so many tight hugs and back slaps, River was sure he would have handprints painting his back for days to come. Coop’s damp, mossy green eyes, the smell of sunshine and home as River nuzzled his face into the space behind Coop’s ear, and the feeling of their bodies molded together as they hugged and celebrated their team's win. Memories from a few hours ago played behind River’s eyes as he settled into his seat on the bus that would take them home to Colorado. His chest ached with so many emotions: joy, excitement, and love. So much love for the family he and Coop had worked so hard to cultivate.

River and Cooper's kids had done it—The Kingfishers had won the Western States Regional Championship. River had been teaching and coaching the boys swim team at Green Mountain for four years, while his partner, Coop, had coached the girls for the last three. They started working together, building the team into a family. The duo had worked their asses off for years—scouting, recruiting, early morning practices, and late-night meets. Together, they had built and fostered an amazingly talented team of kids.

Green Mountain High School had welcomed River and Coop with open arms; their relationship had never been an issue. The teens paid no mind to the couple's relationship. They were typical teens and used whatever ‌leverage they could to tease and joke with their coaches, but it was never malicious or mean. The community and its families were incredibly supportive as well; River and Coop were immensely proud of the village they had built.

A wave of happiness washed over River with their latest success. Eight years of loving each other and working toward the same goal, and they had finally done what they had always dreamed of. River finally felt like he could breathe. His never-ending anxiety melted away with Coop tucked into his side, the miles ticking by as they traveled home.

The team bus was a cacophony of loud whoops, heavy breathing from those trying to sleep, random bouts of laughter, the crinkling of snack bags, music playing through headphones, and the rumbling of tires on rough concrete. The repetitive movements of the bus lulled the team into a sleepy trance. Coop’s girls sat towards the front; River’s guys all gathered together in the back of the bus. Coop and River sat in the middle, holding hands, whispering to each other, occasionally tearing up, and sometimes breaking into hysterical bouts of laughter listening to the kids chattering around them. Joy and excitement charged the atmosphere surrounding them.

“Hey Coach,” Brooke, their pseudo-child and senior, yelled.

“Yeah, Brooke,” Coop called back.

“I’m just, I just can’t believe it, and I’m so fuc- so grateful, I can’t believe we did it! I am going to miss you so much when I’m at Mines next year.”

“Going to miss you, too, sweet girl! But it’s close enough that we can come to meets if you want us to.” Coop sheepishly said back, like River and Coop weren’t Brooke's surrogate parents; like she wouldn’t want them around once she went to college.

Coop and River had become quite attached to Brooke over the years. She didn’t have a great home life. Her dad wasn't around much, and when he was, he was aggressive. Brooke had told them over and over he was never physical with her, but he was emotionally and verbally abusive. An older man who worked as an oil rigger, he mostly lived out on the plains away from his family. When he was home, he acted like a menace, believing that children should be seen and never heard. That was too bad for him because he had Brooke for a daughter—an amazingly talented girl who was too bold for her own good and wasn’t one to hold her tongue.

Coop had come from a similar background; he had a mother who was a functioning alcoholic. While she could hold down a job, she became a completely different person as soon as 4:30 p.m. rolled around. After drinking her fill, she unleashed her temper, verbally abusing Cooper even now. Despite constantly criticizing his masculinity and swimming skills because of his queerness, she always asked him for money. Coop and River had been together for a couple of years before he finally told River about the woman and the horrible life he had before they met. River was Cooper's safe space, and now Coop was Brooke’s. They reveled in being Brooke’s welcoming sanctuary; their home was her home, and they wouldn't want it any other way. Brooke was family, and they were going to miss her like crazy next year.

"Hey, did you see that kid, Christopher Page?" Coop whispered in River's ear. A hush had fallen over the bus; the interstate highway between Laramie, Wyoming, and Lakewood, Colorado, was a long, dark, empty stretch of road. The wind whistled wildly, and a light dusting of snow streamed outside the windows.

"The one who won the 400 IM? Yeah, he had an amazing race today; he was a beautiful swimmer." River had absolutely noticed the smaller guy who blew every other swimmer out of the water at the meet. Christopher Page was a nineteen-year-old kid from Boulder, a shoo-in to win his heat, which he easily accomplished. That race had actually been comical to watch. Christopher swam through the water effortlessly and had paced himself perfectly. His fluid movements made the other swimmers look like turtles swimming through peanut butter. The 400 IM was such a taxing race; it was a marathon of a swim—100 meters each in the Butterfly, Backstroke, Breaststroke, and Freestyle. The race was like running a marathon in under five minutes, exhausting even the most well-trained athletes. Every part of a swimmer's body screamed by the end; something River well knew. The 400 IM had been River's race in college; he was glad those days were behind him. Just thinking about it sent phantom pains through his arms, shoulders, and back; his body had always felt like jelly by the end of each race.

Christopher was so interesting to watch swim. He was short and stocky at only 5'6", so it made no sense that he was such a force of nature in the water. The kid seemed built to sink, rather than glide through the pool like a bullet. But Christopher's body was all smooth lines, a perfect rhythm of kick, pull, breath, looking like a mystical selkie in his black laser suit. One with the water, River thought as he watched him. At the end of the race, Christopher hit the pool wall, bobbing his head with a contagious smile. He took a huge mouthful of water and then sprayed it all over the pool deck, looking up at his time. When Christopher had secured an almost impossible 4:35.01 on the clock, River let out a whoop for the kid. How could he not? Christopher wasn't on his team, but the kid deserved all the praise for his accomplishment.

Christopher must have heard River’s loud yell because he looked up, searching the crowd. He made eye contact with River as he peeled the cap off his head. Christopher grinned, giving River a little wave before exiting the pool to join his own team.

“Did you hear he chose not to go to a D1 school? And that he came out last year?” Coop’s voice was full of awe as he smiled and jabbered on.

“What?” River said, Coop’s voice pulling him from his thoughts.

“Christopher Page, he decided to go to The School of Mines. Word around is that he isn’t sure what he wants to do long term, but he might work towards making the Olympic team. Says he won’t hide who he is, that he couldn't care less about the judgements—he wants to live his life on his own terms.” Coop said, sleepily smiling at River. “He came out to his parents a long time ago, and has never hidden who he was. He picked a college that would support him no matter what. Pretty cool, eh?” Cooper said, his eyes sleepily blinking at River, grabbing his hand and squeezing three times. They created their little "I love you," before they went public as a quick check-in, conveying what they couldn't or shouldn't say aloud.

“Huh,” River said. “Where and how do you get all this information?” River was always so impressed with the social side of Cooper. He thrived on talking to people, always making friendly conversation with anyone willing to listen and interact. Sometimes River wondered how they worked so well together; ‌Coop was outgoing and chatty, River was not. River was quiet, often withdrawn, and would have been happy to become a mountain recluse and never speak to another soul again. River often pleaded with Coop to move their life to his family's mountain cabin and become hermits together.

“Well, Riv, if you would actually socialize,” Coop teased, elbowing him in the ribs. “You might get some dirt, too.”

“Mm-hmm, no thanks, that's why I have you,‌” River leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Cooper’s mouth. “That’s really wild about Christopher. Not a typical choice, but we know Mines has a really successful swim program, and I guess he will be closer to home? Maybe he’s close with his parents?” The choice was an odd one; choosing Mines was not one a swimmer as talented as Christopher made often. The School of Mines was a great school, albeit small, known for its engineering program, definitely not known for sports. Picking a smaller school and not a flashy one with a bigger name, bigger program, and a lot more money behind them, was an unconventional choice, but a smart one. River was eager to see what a talent like Christopher Page could do for their program, and excited to watch what he could do for the larger swim community. “I guess it also means Christopher and Brooke will get to know each other, maybe? We’ll get to watch him at meets.”

Conversation lapsed as Cooper and River snuggled into each other, fingers interlocked, with River’s head resting on Cooper's shoulder. Cooper turned, kissing the top of his head, and whispered, a quiet I love you and closed his eyes. The adrenaline of the day was waning, making both of them drowsy. They fell asleep happy and content.

***

Screaming.

Why the hell was there so much screaming?

River jolted, working to blink his heavy eyelids, trying to figure out why someone was screaming. But his eyelids wouldn’t cooperate–why wouldn’t they open?

He shook his head, awareness returning slowly. It felt like his eyelids were stuck together—crusty and frozen. When he managed to pry them open, all he could see was darkness with intermittent flashing lights. And the screams? They got even louder.