Synchro Boy, page 20
“Oh, she’ll talk. But she won’t swim.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah. I was such an asshole.” I go up on one elbow and look at Riley. He’s got his eyes closed, so it’s easier. “You know, I’ve figured some stuff out. I really, really love Erika.”
“Good for you,” Riley mumbles.
“You know when we decided we’d ask the girls to go to the barbecue with us?”
“Yeah.” Riley yawns.
“It wasn’t because I wanted to cover up for anything. I wasn’t just trying to be straight. I really wanted to be with a girl.”
“Mmm-hmm? Your point?”
I sigh. “I just didn’t want … Okay, you asked me that day if there was anything going on with me, like—” I sigh again. Why is it so freaking hard for me to put this into words? “Okay, you know when you said synchro’s gay, and you told Geoff I was doing it to go after a girl?” Riley doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “I really didn’t want you to think that’s why I was doing it.”
Riley’s still silent.
“Because it’s really important to me. It’s like—I tried synchro, and it was exactly what I should be doing.”
Riley rolls over, his back to me. “Mmm-hmm,” he mumbles into his pillow.
“So—okay, you still awake? I’m serious, dude. This is big news.”
“Mmmph.”
“You know Dave from the dive team?”
“Mmm.” Riley rolls back.
“We hooked up. A little. And it … didn’t suck. But it made me realize how much I missed Erika. I guess it made me realize a lot of things.”
Riley’s silent, his eyes still shut.
“Like, I guess you weren’t wrong when you thought I was bi.”
He takes his arm out of the sleeping bag and flips me the bird.
“You’re such an idiot, Bart. I knew all that a long time ago. Now will you let me get some goddamned sleep?” But he’s smiling. And then I am. Because I guess, all along, he just wanted me to be honest with myself.
I just hope Erika feels the same way when I tell her.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Mom’s got a day off, so she drops me at the pool for practice. “It’s been nice to have you home more, Bart. It’s been a good week.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You put a lot of years in at that pool, you know … It’s not a bad thing that you’re scaling back on your training for a while. Maybe you can try a solo.”
“Maybe.”
“I know you miss your duet.”
“Her. I miss her.”
She takes a deep breath that turns into a sigh. She adjusts the rear-view mirror. I can see it on her face—she’s trying to figure out the right thing to say.
“If it gets too awkward with the girls, I want you to know you don’t have to stick this out. You don’t have to keep going to the synchro club. You know, Cragg told me he’d have you back on the Rosa Waves, if you wanted. He’s seen you go all in with synchro. He knows you weren’t just screwing around.”
I laugh. “I’m not going back to the lane pool, Mom.”
“Okay.” She laughs. “I didn’t think so. I just want you to know I’ll support you, whatever you decide.”
I feel my throat catch, and tears start. Exhausted, I guess.
“Oh, Bart. I know that synchro is what’s in your heart.”
“She’s in my heart.”
Mom smiles at me. “Okay, then. Don’t stop trying.”
• • •
Our club’s team routine didn’t quite make it past the qualifier, but Erika and Chelsea’s solo routines made it to nationals. So the rest of us are going to end practice early and watch the live stream on Sunny’s laptop.
All I have to train for now is the club’s end-of-year watershow. I have an idea—something that will kick off the performance with a big visual impact. But will I even swim in it? With Chelsea staying out east to work with coaches there, my only option is to swim the free duet with Erika.
I tell Julia about my watershow kickoff plan.
“I like it.”
“Jules, can you help me convince Erika?”
She hangs on the wall, doing these little jump twists on the ledge. “I can’t convince that girl to do anything. Least of all make up with a boy who broke her heart.”
“She doesn’t have to make up with me. She just has to swim with me.”
Julia stops her jumping and looks right at me. “Aw. Look at your face.”
“What?”
“Bart, you’re like a lost little puppy dog.”
“Well. My heart’s broken too.”
“God, I can’t stand this.”
Sunny claps her hands and tells us to stop lounging, get swimming. “You’ve got half an hour before I start streaming the event. Make the most of it!”
Julia takes off for her laps, but I stay at the side.
“Bart? Are you all right?” Sunny asks.
I shrug. Since coming back from the qualifier a month ago, I’ve been training. Lots of figures, lots of land training. Strength, flexibility. Laps of sculling. But no routines. Everyone else has routines to work on right up ’til the end of the season, and even if they’re not at the national championships like Erika and Chelsea, they’ll still get to swim for the small audience at the club’s watershow.
“Why don’t you swim in Chelsea’s spot in the team routine?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She won’t be back for it, and the girls would love to keep the choreography together. You’ve been watching them practise all year, you should be able to pick it up.”
I smile. “Thanks, Sunny.”
“Okay, now go! Do your laps. We’ll practise team after we watch the solos.”
When it’s time, we all get out and dry off, and sit huddled around Sunny’s laptop. Chelsea’s called first, and when we see her, we shout and clap and cheer like we’re there.
But when Erika swims, I’m quiet.
Erika’s footwork at the start of her solo is like she’s skating figure eights. Her grace and expression have us still. But it’s so different from when I started watching the girls in the dive tank back when I was a racer. Now, I see myself in her movements. I know them, and I feel like I belong inside them. I watch her, and I can feel my own muscles twitching as I visualize going through the figures.
Then the combination of the music and her artistry … I can’t help it, but my eyes start to water. Then I catch the girls watching me. They’ve been watching me watching Erika, seeing me so caught up. Now I’m embarrassed.
I wipe the tears away from my eyes. On the screen, Erika spins, emerges, a hand outstretched like she’s beckoning me into the pool with her.
Julia and Kyoka put their arms around me. Jules leans over and whispers in my ear, “You should have been there too, Bart.” She squeezes my shoulder hard, and that little pinch of pain is the only thing that stops more tears from coming.
I text Erika as soon as the event is done.
Told ya you’d kill it. Nicely done.
My phone buzzes.
I haven’t told Sunny yet. But this is a picture of a retired synchro swimmer. What a mess, eh?
I wait for the photo to pop up on my screen. Then I smile to see Erika, red goggle grooves around bloodshot eyes. An inch of black hair standing up on her head. One leg lifted high in a standing split, toes pointed.
U can’t retire. What about next year?
Nothing.
I have an idea for the watershow. please please please swim duet with me?
Don’t tell me what I can’t do. We’re back day after tomorrow. Meet me at the pool before practice?
:(
I’ll be there
I look around and think about what everyone here at the pool would say if they saw her solo. Or if they could just see us perform again. They would wonder how she could even think about quitting something she was so good at.
The team gets back in the pool. I throw myself into the routine, blocking out any thought but keeping the right distance from the swimmers surrounding me. The music. The count. How high I can launch Kyoka out of the water on our lifts.
• • •
On the way out of the pool the night before the girls get back, Dave sees me walking through the parking lot.
“Whoa. Why the long face?”
“I think Erika’s quitting synchro.”
“Aw.” Dave throws an arm over my shoulders. “We could do something to take your mind off that.”
I groan. “Please don’t tempt me.”
Dave puts his lips to my ear, and whispers. I let him pull me off course, pull me to wherever he’s going, thinking about how I would love to feel the way I felt the other night. But the force of how much I want to be with Erika stops me.
I take Dave’s hand, and unwrap it from my shoulders. “Dave, I can’t. You know I can’t.”
He sighs. “Okay. I know you’re not in love with me. Lust maybe.” He gives a sad smile. “Well, my loss, her gain—if she ever figures it out.”
On the way home, I check to see if Bill May’s written me back, like I’ve done every day. There’s nothing. Maybe I stepped over a line. After all, he doesn’t really know me. I’m just another guy swimming synchro, in a different country, even. Why would I write him all that stuff? I just needed somebody who knows to say, “It’s okay. Keep at it. Everything will work out for the best.” Who better than the greatest male synchro swimmer in the world?
When I get home, I call for Mom as soon as I open the front door, but I don’t hear anything.
“Mom?” I call again at the bottom of the stairs, but there’s no answer. So I dump my wet towels in the washing machine and go up to my room. I put on some music with a slow, moody electric guitar and let my head empty, let my thoughts fall completely into my body. I drop into a front split and stay there, stretching out. Then I grab some books. I lift my front foot onto a couple books and check my back foot position. Then I come out of the split, set up the books for the back foot, and get back into position. Full oversplits. I don’t care if it hurts.
I just sink in, just breathe. And when I look up, there’s my perfect posture in the mirror—there’s my extension, my grace. I lift my slender arms. Then my face cracks into an ugly grimace, and the tears come.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Erika’s waiting for me in the lobby of the aquatic centre in street clothes, carrying nothing but a purse.
I let myself get a little happy that she finally wants to talk—at least until I see the look on her face.
“You look furious.”
“I’m just hungry.”
“Come on, let’s go to the caf.”
We start walking toward the little café that serves healthy fare—chickpea soups and sandwiches with alfalfa sprouts on multigrain rolls. We take our trays of food out to the patio, but all the tables are taken. Everyone’s desperate for sun on one of the first warm days, and for the smell of fresh, non-chlorinated air. So Erika sits on the ground, leaning her back against the building. I drop down beside her.
I take a few bites of my sandwich, then ask her.
“Erika, do you wish I never came to the club?”
“How can you even ask me that?”
“Well, why are you quitting?”
Erika puts her sandwich down. “Retiring, Bart.”
“Why are you retiring? To get away from me? Because I’ll go find somewhere else to swim if that’s it. I’ll go up island or something.”
She shakes her head. “No, you don’t have to go to freaking Nanaimo. I’m not leaving because of you. You know, I’ve just swum enough meets and got as good as I’m going to get. So there’s no reason for me to go to another national meet.”
“Now that your solo made it to nationals?”
She nods. “That was my last goal …”
“Except for the mixed duet.”
“Yeah.”
We keep eating until Erika breaks the silence.
“You know, you’re the reason I decided not to retire at the start of this year.”
“You weren’t even going to swim this season?”
“Not after last year. Amanda put so much pressure on Chels and me. I didn’t swim in the watershow. We came back from trials, and I just stopped. Julia begged me to come back with her in the fall, and Mom really wanted me to go to trials again, so I did. But I just wasn’t into it those first couple of weeks, before you came. I was totally going to stop. And when you came to the Try It … Well, Jules and I’d watched the mixed duets at worlds when it was on in the summer, and I started thinking if I could just do something different, if I could do that, I’d still love synchro. Then it looked like it was going to happen, with you … so I stayed. I decided I could keep up all the sacrifice, and swim with the team, do another solo … I’d just do it all because we were going to …” Her voice cuts out, and she shakes her head.
“What sacrifice?”
“Oh, you know. You know we give up everything when we do a sport like this. Just think of the friendships that never were because you could never have anyone over, because you always had to be at the pool. Or all the other things we miss out on.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know … music lessons. I never had time to learn an instrument. Playing baseball. Going to beach parties. Family dinners. Just …” She sighs. “Meeting someone, even. Just life, Bart.”
“Synchro kept you from all that?”
“Yes!” She sighs again, runs her hands through the inch or two of black hair that’s long enough to lie flat now, and drops her hands to her sides. “Didn’t racing do that to you?”
There’s not much I can think of missing back then. I had Riley. I had Mom. And … meeting someone?
“I didn’t even kiss anyone until I joined synchro.”
“You didn’t?”
“But it wasn’t because I was training all the time. I guess nobody considered me dating material before. And … baseball just bores me.” I laugh a little.
“So I was your first kiss?” she asks quietly.
I nod.
“You never told me that.”
“You never told me I’m the reason you swam this year.”
“So I was your first. That makes Chelsea your second.”
I close my eyes. “Yes. And … Dave was my third.” I open my eyes, and Erika’s looking at me now—she’s not shocked or upset.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. But me and Dave was just a one-time thing.”
“Oh?”
“I dreamt about you the night after Dave and I got together. He’s not the one I’m in love with.”
Erika frowns, and goes back to her sandwich. We eat, not talking, until she breaks the silence again.
“You know, you never told me why you stopped dancing.”
I swallow. I look out at the sky and the generous blue of the day.
“The same reason guys didn’t show up to the qualifier.”
Erika looks at me like she’s trying to figure that out—then her look transforms into something else, more like sympathy.
“Don’t quit, Erika. Don’t let what happened keep you from doing what you want next year. I don’t want you to swim with anyone else, but … if you want to find another partner, just do it. You should keep going.”
She shakes her head.
“Yes, come on. You still have this goal left. Why would you quit?”
“Like I told you. There’s other stuff out there I want to do. I mean, why am I doing this? What’s the point of me holding my breath for three minutes, or spending so much time with my feet sticking out of the water? ’Cause it’s so ridiculous, when you think of it like that, right? I’m so over it. I was over it. Until you joined.” Erika’s eyes go red.
I take her hand. Even with everything that’s come between Erika and me, there’s still a spark of energy that connects us physically. It’s not extinguished. I still feel it.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket, but she ignores it. “When you joined … that’s when I fell back in love.”
“With synchro?”
She gives me a sad smile. Her phone buzzes again.
“Hey. Hey.” I wipe a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “Erika …”
“Don’t say it unless you mean it, Lively.”
“Okay. Hey, look at me.” I keep my hand on her face, connected again. “I love you.” And for the first time since I messed this all up, I feel our energy fields stitch back up together. It feels amazing, and I want it to go on forever. But another insistent buzz from her pocket breaks the spell.
“Jesus, what?” she says, pulling her phone out, and I drop my hand.
“What is it?”
“It’s Sunny. Something about a letter from FINA. She’s begging me to show up to practice.”
I look at her with the best puppy-dog eyes I can pull off.
She pushes me so I fall over a little. “Oh, good grief. Okay.”
• • •
When Erika and I walk onto the deck, the girls are seated in a circle around Sunny. She waves us over. Erika takes off her shoes and holds them in her hand, and it makes me inexplicably happy to see her naked toes again.
“Girls … and Bart. I’ve got a message from FINA.” She shakes out a letter.
Erika and Julia exchange a look.
“‘Dear Bart Lively and the members of the Rosa Pacific Synchro Club.’
“‘First of all, thank you for sending the video of your mixed pair performance at your provincial competition, and to Erika Tanaka, Chelsea Gates, and Bart Lively for supporting this new event that has been inspiring so many in our sport. We enjoyed watching your routines immensely.’
“‘Bart, we want you to know that your submission in support of mixed duet routines at the Olympics is not the only one of its kind. We have had similar communications from clubs in other provinces, and this demonstrates an exciting new interest in mixed events.’”
Sunny folds up the letter. “You sent them videos?” she asks.
“I thought they should see what the rules are keeping out of competition at a high level.”
“Well, they wrote back. And within the year too.” Sunny raises her eyebrows. “You should consider yourself lucky.”
