Page 66 of Let the Games Begin
“That’s all a parent could want,” her dad said, nodding along.
Olivia could feel herself softening. She blinked back the happy tears in her eyes and beamed at them. She wasn’t entirely there, but she was well on her way. She knew there was a part of her that was always going to work to make them proud—she wanted to give them something to tell their students and colleagues about. To make them believe all the obstacles they’d endured had been worth it. Even though she knew she didn’t need to, she still wanted to be her mum and dad’s success story. But as she showed them the rest of the stadium and told them about everything she’d got up to since she’d arrived in Athens, she realized there was so much more to her, and the future she was stepping into, than the goals she’d made all those years ago.
Nothing about this summer had gone the way Olivia had expected it to. She hadn’t done the internship she’d come here for or visited a single landmark in Athens. But things had turned out so much better than she ever could have planned. And while it was too early to claim a complete transformation, she could feel herself coming home to herself. Returning to the unashamed excitement and ambition that had propelled her through her girlhood. She didn’t want to forge a path in silence or to spend her energy trying to make all the things she’d spent years planning seem effortless. Nothing about her or her life was effortless. Andfinally allowing herself to admit that gave her more freedom than she’d ever felt before.
She looked around the stadium and took in how many people were in the audience. It made her feel like just another dot in the ocean. She felt unbelievably at peace.
“Olivia?” came a voice she recognized.
“Haruki!” she said, excited to see him again. She congratulated him on the medal he’d won the night before and then watched in amusement as Arlo and Aditi swept him away to pepper him with questions about his race. Then Valentina came running down the steps.
“I am so glad Zeke finally got it together enough to just tell you he liked you,” she said with a big grin. “He’ll hate me for telling you this,” she went on, “but it usually takes him at least six months to get out of his head enough to even admitto himselfthat he likes someone.” She laughed as she pulled Olivia into a hug.
Then Olivia saw three other people she recognized coming toward them. Two tall men wearing Team GB shirts with Zimbabwean flags painted on their cheeks and a majestic-looking older woman. She was descending the stairs in a bright multicolored dress and a shirt with Zeke’s face on it. The woman looked over at Olivia, and her whole face lit up.
Olivia knew those eyes, she knew that smile. She’d spent the last week seeing them on the boy who had occupied every inch of her mind. Zeke’s mother came over and pulled Olivia into a warm embrace, as if they’d known each other for years.
“My son has told me so much about you,” the woman said, nodding her head in delight. “Well, no, he hasn’t. He and his brothers don’t tell me anything because they think I interfere toomuch and scare girls away.Butmy son’s face has been telling me everything I need to know.” She laughed, and Olivia grinned.
“Mama, don’t embarrass him,” said one of Zeke’s brothers in amusement.
“No, we should,” said Zeke’s other brother. “Do you want to see photos of Zeke when he was a baby? He was not a cute baby, trust me,” he said, laughing, as the whole Moyo family came down the stairs. But before Olivia could get a glimpse of those photos, the stadium filled up with music and light.
“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, Olympians of the world, welcome to the 2024 Olympic Games Men’s One Hundred Meters Sprint Final!”
55Zeke
DAY THIRTEEN OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
Walking out of the changing room, through the tunnel, and into the stadium never got old. As Zeke stepped out, the crowd roared. Zeke waved, and the crowd got even louder. He turned around and, without even realizing that’s where they would be, he spotted his mother, brothers, Haruki, Valentina, Aditi, and Arlo waving at him from the supporter stands. Then he made eye contact with Olivia.
Zeke lifted his arm, put his hand up to his face, and blew her a kiss. Her face lit up as she blew one back. Zeke’s body relaxed as he realized that, no matter what happened that day, everyone he loved would be right there in the audience ready to embrace him when it was over. Well, almost everyone.
He put his headphones back on and turned up the noise- cancellation switch until all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. He did his stretches, reassessed the track, nodded at his competitors, and smiled at the field volunteers, whose eyes widened in excitement.
Zeke’s pre-run rituals meant everything to him. He wasn’t usually superstitious, but he knew that the steps he took the morning of each run were what helped him to completely focus on the task that lay before him. Which was why what he did next made so little sense to him. In fact, if he’d been thinking, he would have concluded that it was the worst possible thing he could do on the day of a competition. Never mind just four minutes before he was scheduled to compete in the 100m final of the Olympics. But it wasn’t an active choice, it was an impulse he couldn’t fight.
He picked up his phone, readjusted his headphones, and pressed play on the song he’d been avoiding for the past ten years. And as soon as the opening guitar strings began, he was taken right back to that morning ten years ago. The very last time he’d seen his dad.
It was an ordinary Saturday in the summertime. Zeke was fourteen, and he was getting ready for a regional athletics race. He hadn’t known it then, but it would be the very last competition his dad would ever take him to.
Zeke had woken up late, again. And he’d run down the stairs ready to receive a lecture on the importance of always being on time. But, instead, he’d found his dad listening to the mixtape of old Zimbabwean music that formed the soundtrack to his entire summer. The one he’d been playing that morning was an Oliver Mtukudzi song called “Wongororo” that sounded like sunshine. It was lined with the gentle sound of a mbira, the upbeat strum of an acoustic guitar, and warm, soulful percussion. Instead of a lecture, Zeke was greeted by the sight of his dad dancing around the kitchen. Sunlight poured through the windows and onto his father, bathing him in a golden light that made him look yearsyounger than he was. The joy on his face was so palpable that Zeke started dancing too.
Zeke was well accustomed to grief. To the knowledge that he could never get back the person he loved the most. He worried that recalling those perfect, sunlit memories would plunge him into a sadness so deep that he wouldn’t be able to claw himself out of it. And so, he had done his very best not to remember, until this moment. Now, Zeke sat on the ground of the Olympic running track and smiled. As the final guitar strings of his dad’s favorite song played through his headphones, he let himself sit in that one perfect memory. Then he whispered the advice that he’d carried like a guiding light: “Just put one foot in front of the other, but faster than you ever have before.”
Zeke knew what he had to do.
He and his competition lined up across the track. Everyone around the world tuned in to watch the most anticipated race of the year. The stadium held its breath.
It was midnight in Hong Kong. A group of university students were crowded around the TV in their apartment. Eager to watch the competition they’d been waiting for ever since the opening ceremony.
It was one p.m. in Buenos Aires, and a group of eighty-something-year-old men who’d known each other since they were kids were watching it outside on their neighbor’s porch. Talking about how it was only a matter of time before one of their grandsons qualified to compete for their national team.
It was six p.m. in Harare, and the whole extended Moyo family were congregated in their grandmother’s house to watch their grandson, nephew, and cousin run his race. The house was filledwith food, joy, and British and Zimbabwean flags. They’d been precelebrating for hours. But as soon as the camera panned to Zeke, the room became completely silent, pride pinning their eyes to the screen as they waited for the announcer to call outhisname.
“Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be seated for our final competition, the Men’s One Hundred Meters Sprint Final!” said the announcer, and the whole stadium roared.
This was it, thought Zeke as he took off his headphones, letting the noise of the crowd rush in. Some athletes felt a surge of adrenaline when they got onto the track. Some started to shake with nerves. And others were calm and focused under the lights. But Zeke became quiet, completely quiet. His thoughts cleared, his muscles relaxed, and he felt completely weightless.
