Drew was finding it difficult to concentrate. He knew the moment he hit the water, life would be bearable again. Everything made more sense off-land than it did on solid ground - life always did. He could still hear the crowd going wild, but it wasn't right. They didn't cheer for him. He could hear the quiet through the loud cheers. He knew that within the roaring crowd hid a few occupied chairs, people who didn't get up and cheer with the rest of the crowd, sitting quietly, motionless, as his dreams were shed to tethers.
Before he allowed his mind to drift back to that day, he ran the short way to the edge of the pool and made the jump. All the bad memories faded as water soon engulfed his being. He was home. Pushing his lungs to the limit, he stayed under for as long as his burning lungs would allow him. He forced his head to the surface out of pure need for oxygen. Drew made a satisfying gasp for fresh air before noticing his ASCA coach standing at the edge of the pool. Coach's arms were crossed across his swimmer-chest as usual, the omniscient scowl of disapproval peering at him from behind his black shades.
"Got that out of your system today?" said James.
Drew ignored him and dipped his head backwards, letting the water run through his hair again before making his way over to his coach. He took the swimming cap and goggles from James, trying not to notice the thin trunks stretched over his coach's bulky thighs. He instead, expertly put on the gear before shooting back into the pool.
"You know me, I'm always happiest inside the pool."
"Get it out of your system, we have work to do," James said.
His coach's all-business approach was one of the things he appreciated most of him, most of the time. Sometimes, though, like today, it got on his nerves, and not in a good way.
"Did you do your drylands?"
"Did you get out of bed this morning?"
"Well, if you're making quips already then you're halfway out of your funk."
"Who said anything about a funk?" Drew said as started his usual warm-up routine. "Get on with it," James said and blew his whistle a few seconds longer than usual, for extra emphasis it seemed.
Drew didn't need to be told twice. He got to work on his warm-up routine and got blissfully lost in the monotonous exercises he'd been doing for years and had been doing in his sleep for almost longer.
He was called out of his reverie by the shrill of his coach's loud whistle and finished his lap before taking off the goggles and catching his breath.
"Once you're done with the easy stuff, we can get started on the routine," his coach said.
Drew had gotten caught up in his warm-ups and knew he would probably have spent the entire practice session keeping to the easy stuff if he didn't have his coach to drill him. But he still didn't look forward to practising his fly.
"Get on with it," James said impatiently.
Drew shot back into the pool and started working on his butterfly stroke.
"I'm still not happy," James said as Drew made his way to the showers.
Practice was finished for the day but his time with coach wasn't done yet. It was time to rehash the day's practice, work on pointers, strategize, emphasize his weak points and work on a way to improve, develop, advance and finally place on the team.
"You and I both," Drew said before hitting the showers.
He stripped off his trunks and crumpled it at the entrance to the locker room. The hot water hit him like hot lava spewing from the shower head. While the pool was his main therapy, hot showers were his after-therapy. The hot water pounded his sore muscles and cleaned the chlorine off his skin and out of his hair. It burned his body and left him red hot, reminding him that he was still breathing. As the buzz of the practice session wore off and the shower was stretched to its end, the memories threatened to overtake his mind again and Drew could feel the cloud start to settle back over him. The last four years had been a waste, but he was determined this would be his time.
"Why are you so vested in him?" Alice asked.
James stared at his beloved friend and topped her wine glass in lieu of an answer. Her gaze didn't let up and he settled back into the recliner. "He's one in a million," he said eventually.
"He dropped you bad," she said. "But then everyone deserves a second chance," she conceded.
"Are you playing devil's advocate and representing the state at the same time?" he smiled, referencing to her tough legal persona.
"I just don't want to see you waste another four years of your life," she said finally.
He knew his good friend was only looking out for him. But he couldn't let it slide.
"Drew just barely missed out of the qualifier," he said. He knew he sounded defensive, and visibly relaxed.
"You spent four years getting him to the USA Swimming Olympic Trials Swim Meet and he messed it up in the worst possible way. He missed it by a millisecond. It was your shot just as much as his. He didn't just disappoint himself that day," she said. "He only has a short window left to compete, to really compete. You know this. He's got one more, at the most two more chances, then he's basically out of chances," she said.
James knew all this, better than his assistant district attorney friend.
"I can get him to the Olympics," James said finally.
He sounded confident, almost as confident as he really felt. He believed in Drew, and believed in his talent. If only he could get the kid to step out of his own head.
"I've seen hundreds of swimmers in my years Ally, gifted swimmers, but none like him."
"As long as you're sure," Alice said, "you're not getting any younger yourself," she finished.
"Is that another thirties joke?" he said.
He tried to scowl at her but was too tipsy to care and smiled instead.
"Once you hit the big three zero, it's just downhill from there," she said. "Believe you me."
"Well, we'll always have our Wednesday nights," he said and topped up his own glass of wine and smiled, oblivious to the sadness behind his friend's eyes.
*****
"You're late," James said.
"Barely," Drew said as made his way past.
