Hold My Breath(90)

I carry a lot of anchors in that water, Curtis. And I’m going to need every bit of help I can get to unload them for just a few seconds.





Maddy




I did not shave a third of a second off my time again, but I swam fast enough to win my heats easily, and I breezed into first place in both the one hundred and two hundred free races. Funny how winning can still feel like a disappointment, though, when you know you have more to give.

“I’ll get the record at trials,” I say, sliding into the space on the bench next to my father.

“Damn straight you will, and before I’m done, you’ll be beating this guy in the water,” my dad winks, nodding toward Will.

We both look on while he stretches his arms, leaning over and letting his limbs swing. His body looks ready, but I can still see his head is caught in so many other places.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask, trying to loosen my father up. He’s clasping his hands together and swaying where he sits, and it’s beginning to affect everyone sitting next to him. I lean into him, and he catches on, glancing down at where my arm touches his and shifting his position while flexing his hands.

“I guess I’m nervous, sorry,” he says. “Your mom’s in the family section with Duncan and…”

His lips part, but nothing escapes except for a heavy sigh.

“Evan’s family,” I fill in for him. My father bites the tip of his tongue and his mouth stretches out in forced smile.

“Yeah,” he says, blinking as he looks away from me.

We both watch on in silence, letting the shouts around us fill in the quiet while Will stands behind the heat before him, pacing. He never listens to music like so many of the other guys do, and I wonder if it’s because he already has plenty of noise in his head. He talks to himself, closing his eyes and imagining the start, nodding where every stroke goes as he visualizes the race.

“She…the girl…” My dad struggles for what to call her.

“Tanya,” I answer.

He breathes out a short laugh, pulling his lip up on one side.

“She didn’t know about me either,” I answer before he asks.

My father’s lips pull together tight as he nods, his eyes on the activity in the pool, but not really focusing on any one thing. I struggle to say more, wanting to explain how I found out, how much it hurts, but how I also feel like everything has been pushing me toward Will anyhow. None of it makes sense, and my heart is a messy place. That’s what stops me. I’m sure those questions will come from my parents—about how Evan and Tanya met, how I found out, how old Dylan is, what his struggles are. I’ll need to tell them about Tanya’s cancer, and I’ll need them to understand Will’s commitment, because I don’t plan on going anywhere, but I can’t lie to my father. I can’t say I’m not scared, because he would see right through me.

I am terrified.

I’m not afraid to love him. That part…it’s easy. But I’m terrified that I won’t be strong enough, and that I will let him down. I just don’t think the man about to fight through the waters trying to drown him can handle one more disappointment.

My father stands, his hand resting on my shoulder, but his eyes still on his swimmer—the one he was always meant to push the hardest. My heart is overjoyed to see him stand behind Will again. I cover my dad’s hand with my own, and we make a silent deal to pick up the rest of the conversation about Evan later. For now, we give everything we’ve got to the other Hollister brother—the one nobody saw coming.

“Time to explode, Will. You have to explode out of this—that’s your edge,” my father yells. His hands form fists at his sides while his swimmer steps up to the blocks.

“Eighteen!” my father begins to shout, and I stand up next to him and begin to yell along with him.

This is the number we chase—the one Will chases. The US record in the fifty is barely a breath above eighteen seconds, and if you can even dance with the decimals that come after that number, you buy yourself respect.

My father has been daily drilling this number into Will’s head. He’s inscribed it on his cap, and we all repeat it in our minds here now. I glance back to where my mom is standing with her arm linked through Duncan’s, and Tanya stands behind Dylan’s chair with her hands clasped together and her neck straining with her held breath. So many people want this for him, but Will has to want it for himself.

Things begin to happen in slow motion as the bodies lined up along the pool all still, minus the occasional finger twitch in anticipation of the starting sound. The beeps begin, and my eyes sweep closed with the first two as I breathe in hard and fast, filling my chest as I know Will is. When my eyes open, they’re all in the air. Will’s start was mediocre. My father swears, leaping down from our team section to the deck below, cupping his mouth, following along the distance of the pool while he shouts. His words are meaningless to any ears but the ones he’s speaking to—claw, smooth, dig, push…sixty…sixty-five…seventy. My father is counting the strokes. He knows exactly how many it should take. Meanwhile, his eyes are scanning in those last few seconds for places where they can fit one more, take one away, find the edge.

Nineteen.

The clock stops on Will’s lane just as his hand touches the wall. He swam the fifty in nineteen seconds flat. He came in second in his heat, and he’ll swim again today, but that number—nineteen—is going to become one more anchor that he needs to shed.