Page 100 of Diving In
“Of course,” she says, looking surprised. I’m aware that she knows exactly how nervous I get about interviews. I think she even saw me throw up before one at Paris on our media day. Something which I haven’t ever told anyone else and appreciate that she never shared.
“I’m really proud of today and all the work that's gone into it. But at the end of the day, I’m just a guy who gets to swim up and down a pool.” I frown. “I know how tough things are for everyone at home at the moment.And how difficult the last few years have been. And I just wanted to say that I’m thinking of all of you.”
I rub my neck awkwardly. This is accidentally turning into a longer speech than intended, but I need to get it out. “I know so many front-line workers. My dad’s a policeman. My best friend is a doctor, and the rest of her family are teachers and nurses. They were doing amazing things whilst I was just training. I’m so lucky to have them in my life, and I want to thank them all.”
“That’s a lovely message,” Mel tells me.
“Yeah, well, what I do isn’t all that impressive when you realise I just got off the phone with my best friend, who’s spent the last eight hours working a shift in an emergency department overnight,” I tell her. “I literally just swim lengths.”
“World record speed lengths,” she tells me, and I laugh.
“True. Well, fingers crossed for tomorrow, and I hope you have a lovely evening, Mel.”
When I get back to my room in the Olympic Village, I check my phone. Our swimming chat is blowing up. I scroll past the messages about the record, thanking them all.
AJ:Sam just professed his love of Austin on national TV. I feel left out.
Seb:And Kath
AJ:Wait, Kath?
Seb:Rewatch the interview
AJ:How?
Seb:You’re a smart guy, figure it out.
AJ:Woah! Are we allowed to mention her name now?!?!?! It’s no longer banned?????
I pause.
Me:Yes, you can mention her name
AJ:Phew. I really need her advice on this girl Katy.
Me:I’m sure she would be happy to help.
A text from Kath appears on the screen.
Kath:Just home.
I take a seat on the bed. The room’s starkly empty. White walls, white ceiling, bed frame made out of some sort of cardboard like material.
“Hey,” she answers on the second ring, and I feel myself starting to relax again. I’ve missed her voice.
“Hey, KitKat.”
In the pause after my words, I can almost see her tying and untying her ponytail. I wonder what she’s thinking.
“Maybe I should call you World Record Champ now.”
“Nah, I prefer the old version.” I sink back into the pillows. “That one doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well.”
“How are you feeling?” she asks. “Any ongoing tightness in your chest? Any breathing problems?”
“I feel much better. I can’t thank you enough. Seriously, Kath. Thank you.”
She pauses. I stare at air conditioning unit on the ceiling. I should have brainstormed exactly what to say. I’ve spent enough of the last few years thinking about what I’d say if I talked to Kath again. But now that we’re actually speaking, I don’t know how to explain how sorry I am, and how much I’ve missedher.
