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Sullivan Meadows is now one of the most decorated female swimmers of all time. Only a handful of swimmers outranking her medal count. It’s hard to feel anything but pride for her. Of what she accomplished here.
I walk a few steps behind Sulli.
Pausing as she stops to snap selfies with swimmers from Japan.
Closing Ceremony has a different vibe than opening. Competition is over. Nerves are gone for athletes. Even those who only tasted defeat are high-fiving and celebrating.
Countries meld together and casually enter the arena. No one lines up behind the flagbearers. The symbol of unity feels palpable in the air. Like Sulli, athletes snap photos with other athletes from different countries.
For as much as Sulli has stopped for pics, other athletes have stopped her ten times more. Nearly every foot, swimmers from around the world ask for a selfie. It takes a concerted effort to keep my eyes focused on her surrounding, watching threats.
Really, I’d just like to watch my girlfriend.
Each footstep, a dull pain throbs my abdomen where my wound heals. A reminder of what could have been. A reminder of the danger we face every day. It keeps me sharper. I adjust my earpiece, and Banks glances over his shoulder, leading out front.
Sulli tears away from Swiss swimmers, drawing closer between us, and fixes her tangled medals.
“You’re letting the silver sit on top of the gold?” I raise my voice over the loud celebratory music. “I thought you’d bury those under a pillow.”
“No, these are being displayed front and fucking center in my bedroom.”
“So you can do better next time? Motivation.” I fling a piece of hair in her face.
She laughs, lightly leaning into me. And even on-duty, I wrap my arm around Sulli. Banks glances down briefly, listening to the conversation as Sulli says, “The silvers mean just as fucking much to me because they’re reminders to be humble and to be happy for others.”
Banks smiles down at her.
My lips rise more too. “I’m so effing proud of you, string—”
“Meadows!” Dean hollers, cutting me off. But as he approaches, Kingly slings an arm over his shoulder, and suddenly spins Dean towards him.
Into a kiss.
Dean is grinning before they deepen the kiss in an arena full of people. He holds Kingly’s jaw, and Kingly grips the back of his neck. Their faces are projected on the Jumbotron. So the audience sees.
The world sees.
We see.
All the U.S. athletes turn and cheer. Including Sulli, and yeah, even us. I’m clapping for Kingly’s romance.
Who would have thought?
Me.
Celebrating Kingly.
I’m even smiling. I guess I’ve learned something from the Olympics too. Be happy for others. Just no one better expect me to clap for the Rochesters. That’s never happening.
I tell Banks, “Looks like we’re the number one platonic bromance.”
“Rightfully.”
I laugh, and then our attention sharpens as Sulli is on the move. We follow her, Banks out front and me behind, and maybe five minutes in, Dean catches up to her again.
“Meadows!” he calls again like before.
“Hey, congrats,” she says. “I didn’t know you two were together.”
“Uh…we weren’t really—not officially at least.” He laughs a little. “He wanted to wait until after the competition to make things official. Keep our heads in the game.”
Sulli nods slowly. “Sounds like Kingly.”
“What?” Dean can’t hear over the fireworks.
“Sounds like Kingly!”
He nods, grinning. “Definitely is! Picture?!” They snap a couple, then he moves in even closer, and I abruptly extend an arm to stop him.
What’s in his fist?
Dean looks pissed. “I’m her teammate, man!” Fireworks pop, pop, pop. “Christian Dean…remember me?”
“I know who you are!” I yell back, not admitting that four years ago, I thought maybe he’d end up with Sulli. Why’d I even push for that? If they hooked up, I would’ve smacked my head into a brick wall and called myself an idiot on repeat.
“Then what’s the problem?!”
“What’s in your hand?!”
“Oh…” Flustered, he outstretches his palms. Small bottles of liquor in his fist. “Want one?! I brought lots! Was gonna offer Meadows one too!”
“I’m good.” I pat his shoulder and sidestep to let him pass. I already know what Sulli will say to him, but I’m still going to let her make the choice herself.
Banks hawk-eyes Dean as he moves towards Sulli.
Through comms, I hear Banks ask, “What does he have?”
“Minis,” I tell him.
Banks nods and turns back to face forward. Like me, he knows what Sulli will do.
“Meadows!” Dean holds out a mini bottle of vodka.
She shakes her head. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“You sure?!” Dean asks. “It’s a party!”
“I’m fucking sure!”
After an awful night months ago, Sulli made the decision to stay sober. Banks made the decision to give up smoking in solidarity.
And me, I just tried to hold the three of us together. Besides the gunpoint incident, that frat party was one of the worst nights of our summer.
For all of us.
38
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
2 MONTHS BEFORE THE OLYMPICS
