She glanced at the dirt trail and kicked a small pebble. “Swimming’s helped me,” she said softly. “It’s the one thing that makes me feel confident.”
“I know how that feels. That’s how I felt in high school.”
She looked back at me. “Really?”
I nodded. “People were mean in high school. Made fun of me for not making the London Olympics. But the best way to shut them up is to keep going and prove them wrong.”
She grinned. “I think you proved them wrong.”
“I think I did too.”
“Are you going to the world champs this summer?”
“Um…that’s a good question. I…uh…I’m not sure yet.”
“Why?” she asked like going should have been a given.
I trudged through the burn in my calves and leaned on the large stick I’d found to assist my out-of-shape body up the damn hill. Taylor made the hike seem easier than it was. “I have doubts of my own.”
“Because you became your own worst critic too?”
“Exactly. It’s a demanding sport, and it made me wonder if I gave too much to it. I overworked myself, forgot to enjoy the little things in life, and being so focused on winning and being the best, I lost touch of reality. Kind of made me not love the sport anymore. And that’s when I started feeling like a failure.”
She looked at me as if I was crazy. “How are you a failure? You won five gold medals in Tokyo. You’re so good.”
“No one thinks they’re the best. I can tell you, if you’re here at this camp keeping up with all the swimmers your age and older, you’re exactly where you need to be if you want to qualify for the Olympics.”
“Then I can tell you that you’re anything but a failure.”
Her words marinated in me, and the things I’d told her moments before were shouted back at me. I’m my own worst critic. And nothing would change unless I learned to rewire my brain.
The terrain finally leveled at the top of the hill. An opening cleared in front of us, and San Francisco poked out in the distance, sitting in a thin layer of fog. The camp scattered all over the clearing, soaking up the sights of the city and our surroundings below. Wiping a layer of sweat off my forehead, I grabbed a water bottle out of my bag, squirted some into my mouth, and offered Taylor some.
“You should go to Japan,” Taylor said, taking a seat crossed legged on the ground. I joined her. “Prove yourself wrong. Fall in love with the sport again.”
“And you should go talk to the girls on your team. Go right up there, say hi, offer them some water, and ask to sit with them.”
She turned to observe the four girls laughing. “What if they say no?”
“Then I’ll spray them with the hose at practice tonight.”
That garnered a grin. She thought about it for a long moment, playing with some pebbles as if assessing the pros and cons of what she’d proposed, and at the same time, my pro list for seeking help grew longer. Then, after drawing in a breath, she held out her pinkie. “If I go up to those girls, you have to go to Japan.”
I thought about it for a moment and followed the feeling in my gut. “Deal,” I said and hooked my pinkie around hers to seal the promise.
She glanced over her shoulder at the girls again and then looked back at me with terrified eyes.
I gave her a thumbs-up. “I believe in you. We’ve chatted each other’s ears off today. Go do the same to those girls.”
She thinned her lips, and I offered my water as a conversation starter. She nodded, grabbed the bottle, and walked over to them very demurely. I was worried she would back out at the last minute. She waved, and the girls perked up. I sucked in a breath like a terrified mom, afraid my kid was going to be rejected. I didn’t breathe during the first few seconds of the exchange, and when Taylor extended the water, the girls smiled and shuffled around in their circle to create space for her. Once she sandwiched herself between them, I buzzed my lips, finally exhaling, and my insides swarmed with assurance. She did it, and I was so fucking proud.
Now you need to uphold your end of the promise.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked it for the first time since lunch. My heart was ready to leap out of my chest when I saw I had an hour-old text from Kennedy.
I miss you too. A lot, it read.
If Taylor could leap out of her comfort zone, then so could I. Glancing back at Kennedy’s text, I was reminded of everything that I still had and everything I could lose if I didn’t dive into my uncomfortable zone. Because at least I wouldn’t be alone if I tried. It was much better than being alone completely.
Instead of texting back, I texted my agent, Lucy. I think I want to start therapy. I think it’s time. I want to love swimming again.
* * *
The next evening, I drove to camp to tell the rest of the campers the whole conversation I’d had with Taylor. They huddled into the lecture hall where I was scheduled to tell them about my journey to the Olympics. Now that I had speaking time, they stared at me, hawk-eyed, probably seeking inspiration. Most possessed athletic prowess beyond what was normal for their ages. This camp was designed for Olympic hopefuls, and my journey had been very similar to theirs. Starting young, clinging to my memories of the Beijing Olympics, dedicating much of my high school life to the pool; that eventually paid off because I won my first two medals at the world championships in Kazan when I was eighteen. I stressed the power of pushing through doubts and failures, mentioning all my failures, from London to my disappointment in Rio. There were more failures than successes, but the ones who made it to the Olympics not only mastered their sport, they mastered their failures. I wished someone would have told me that when I was younger. It would have lessened the blow.
As the kids headed out to enjoy their last hour before the lights went out, Taylor hopped down the steps with a bright smile on her face.
“Hey, Quinn?” she said as I slung my bag over my shoulders.
“Hey, Taylor. What’s up?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
I gave her a half-smile. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, for talking to me. Telling me to keep going. Pushing me out of my shell. The girls invited me to their room last night, and we played card games and…” She glanced over her shoulder and found David talking to a group of high schoolers. She turned back to me and gave a mischievous smirk. “We stayed up until midnight talking and playing games. I ate lunch and dinner with them today, and one of them invited me to a sleepover at her house next week.”
I held out my fist for her to pound it. “There you go. I’m so happy for you. That’s amazing.”
“Maybe this is the start of me making some friends out here.”
“I think it is. You need confidence, Taylor. Once you start believing in yourself, amazing things will happen.”
She glanced at the ground for a moment before looking back up. “Are you going to keep your promise?”
“I pinkie promised, didn’t I?”
“Yeah…but…you’re supposed to believe in yourself too. You remember how you told us that the Beijing Olympics and Dara Torres inspired you?”
“Yeah?”
She kicked the toe of her tennis shoe into the ground as she struggled to make eye contact. “Well…um…just so you know, um, the Tokyo Olympics were my Beijing Olympics. And…um…you inspired me. Long before our hike yesterday.”