“But I feel so alone. I feel like, for the first time in my life, I have no direction. I’m just…floating. Barely floating.”
“People feel alone when they’re depressed,” Lillian said. “I felt even more alone when I got injured. I know you and Talia were trying to encourage me, but sometimes, I wanted to yell at you guys because you weren’t injured and didn’t understand the fear of never swimming again. There’s something out there for you, Quinn. Don’t feel like your only purpose is swimming.”
“That’s how I feel. An overworked machine.”
Kennedy’s arm slipped off mine when she got up to go to the bathroom, leaving me in a heavy silence with Lillian and Talia looking at me with the same worried eyes Kennedy had since after the games. I hated when people looked at me like I was broken, and sure, I was broken down to the core, but I didn’t want sympathy. I wanted solutions. I wanted to find a way out like Lillian had. A little bit of hope flared in me knowing that she’d worked it out. I wished I had what the answer was. I didn’t want to have an unknown number of years of feeling miserable and waiting for the solution to pop up.
I didn’t want to spend the rest of the night rolling around in my sob story. I wanted to enjoy the time with my friends and girlfriend, eating, drinking, and laughing, and after Talia and Lillian assured me again that I wasn’t alone, and I could talk to them at any time, Kennedy came back with a new drink in hand. We spent the remaining time playing drinking card games, fully taking advantage of the last few weeks of the lull in training.
But the weight of our conversation didn’t leave when Talia and Lillian did. As Kennedy and I cleaned up and got ready for bed, we shuffled around in an awkward silence that I didn’t pick up on until we finally got into bed. She was too quiet, and studying her face, I wondered if her dazed look indicated that something was wrong.
As she settled into her spot on the bed, she plopped her head on the pillow, a sigh seeping out of her, and then looked up with the same worried expression she’d been giving me for months.
“Hey, Quinn?”
I positioned my arm out for her to cozy into me. It was our usual position when we got in bed, and the fact that she didn’t jump into my arms worried me. Instead of resting her head on me, she shifted her body and fixated on me.
“Yes, babe?” I said and rubbed her arm. I wished that was enough to comfort her and push away any fears.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“I know.”
“It’s just that…well…you seemed so open with Lillian and Talia, and I really don’t feel like you’re that open with me. It’s like when you’re with me you have this…well…this wall up or something. You never want to talk about things.”
Shit. She was worrying. It was all over her face and rattled her words. My heart pounded as the fear coiled around my gut. Kennedy stared, begging for answers. And really, could I blame her? It’d been two and a half months of living together, and I’d managed to get out of any conversation that strayed down the path of opening up to her. But with everything I told Lillian and Talia out in the open, I’d revealed my hand. I had to backtrack and make her feel better so she wouldn’t think she was the reason I was unhappy or realized I was too depressed a person to be with. Moving to a new city was a big deal, and I didn’t want her to regret it. She made me so happy. I looked forward to our evenings together, having her tell me all the boring parts of her day that were interesting to me, cuddling on the couch while we watched TV. I woke up every day for those moments. I wanted to make her as happy as she made me.
God, I had no idea what I would do if she left me.
But admitting that my mind was anything but solid would be admitting that I wasn’t “the greatest female swimmer in the world.” That label meant I was living the greatest life, strong, and bathing in ultimate athletic success. In truth, that training had broken me in unnoticeable, nuanced ways I was never taught to look out for. I still wanted to cling to the idea that everything was solid even though I knew it wasn’t true. I wanted to trick myself back to good mental health because that was the easiest way to mend it all.
But as I attempted to trick my brain, I’d created a wall between me and my girlfriend. It wasn’t because I wanted to keep her out. I just wanted to protect her from the other side.
“I’m sorry. I’m not good at talking about my feelings.” I spoke truthfully and held our clasped hands in front of my chest, trying my best to ease her worry.
“I know, but I’m your girlfriend. You should be able to talk to me.”
“I know, it’s…it’s just hard. I don’t want you worrying about me or regretting moving out here.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. God, see what happened when I told her how I felt? Her frown popped out, and it terrified me.
“Why would I regret moving out here?”
When she said it out loud, it sounded so irrational, but it was a fear I couldn’t shake.
“I don’t know. Because it’s a huge change for you, and you’re already stressed about finding friends and establishing your life out here, and I feel guilty that I’m the only one you can fully rely on. I’m in this funk that I can’t seem to get out of, and you might leave to go back to New York to be with friends and family and people who aren’t depressed—”
“I want to be with you, Quinn,” she said with her eyebrows still scrunched together, but this time, the firmness in her tone and the seriousness in her frown made an impact on me about how delusional my anxiety was. “I’ve wanted to be with you since our first kiss. We all go through bad times. I mean, you stood by me in high school when I was still figuring out who the hell I was, and I hurt you in the process.”
“You didn’t hurt me—”
“I did, Quinn, don’t even deny it now. I couldn’t stand up to my friends because I was so insecure. Senior year was so hard for me in more ways than I ever let on. But you still stuck by me.”
“I didn’t, though. I broke up with you, and then when you came out and asked for a second chance, I still said no.”
“None of that is the point I’m trying to make. The point is, you saw me at one of the lowest moments of my life, and I’m going to be here for you at your low moment. I want you to be honest with me. I want to help you get back to the old you. I really miss her.”
She kissed our intertwined fingers, and I tried comforting her by caressing her hand. “I miss her too.”
“I want to know what you’re thinking, even if it’s dark. You’re supposed to be able to share that stuff with me. Don’t you trust me?”
“I do trust you. I trust you more than anyone.”
“Then can you try? It’s like you have this wall up. It’s been up for months now, and I keep wondering when it’s finally going to go away.”
“I don’t want to have a wall with you.”
“Then talk to me. I want you to get back on track. I want you back to your normal self.”
When she worded it like that, with a tired tone, it sounded like she wasn’t happy. She made it sound like I was a second full-time job. I knew that she didn’t say those words exactly, and deep down, I knew that was not what she felt, but my broken brain reworded her sentence and translated that my paralyzing depression made her unhappy. Or maybe that was what I wanted to hear to reaffirm I was right. I had no fucking idea, but I was getting sick of feeling this way and allowing my brain to reword what people told me into a bunch of nonsense.