Page 99 of Diving In
And despite everything—the unanswered messages, the nights I spent training myself not to miss him—I can’t pretend I don’t care.
Right now he needs a friend. And before everything, we were always friends.
Chapter 43
Twenty-five years old
Sam
Austin shoots me a look during the medal ceremony, and I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. Though it feels as though it might look more like a grimace. The world’s no longer blurry but it doesn’t quite feel back to normal yet. It’s almost echoey, like being underwater… except with cameras pointing at me from every direction. My heart starts to pick up pace, and I take another deep breath to try and slow it down.
Looking out at the empty stadium, I can’t help but think about Kath. Being the best isn’t enough when you’ve pushed everyone else away to get there. You just stand at the top of the hill and realise there’s no one there with you. I miss my mum and I miss my best friend.
And in that moment, I make a vow to fix things. To apologise to the people I hurt along the way… if they’ll even listen to me for long enough to accept my apology.
“Thank you.” I squeeze Austin’s shoulder as we make our way to our relative media rounds. “And thanks for calling Kath.”
I don’t think I would have made it up onto the podium without the two of them. Without Austin and that phone call, I’d probably still be sitting in the showers struggling to breathe, feeling like the walls were closing in on me and all the tiles were shining and distorted.
“Any time.” He squeezes my shoulder in return. “I’m just glad you’re doing better now.”
As I make my way towards the British reporters, I wish I had Austin’s easy confidence. I thought I’d gotten over my fear of the cameras. But then I lost the golden boy status. I started to lose. I got older. When I consistently came second or third, they were always saying how disappointed I must be that I didn’t get gold.
Like I needed someone else to tell me what I was already thinking. To remind me that I wasn’t good enough.
The interviews pass with the usual blur of questions.How are you feeling? How are you finding the Olympics? Tell us about the build-up to the event.I try not to say anything stupid. I try to make sure I sound grateful enough and humble enough, so that I don’t get torn down for a whole new reason.
But really, I don’t want to be there. I want to be back in my room so I can talk to Kath again.
I need to apologise to her.
I need to thank her.
I just… need to talk to her.
She’s the only person I want to talk to. Even after years of convincing myself she’s not, Kath’s still the person who knows me best. The person I always want to talk to really.
If she can forgive me.
I’ll understand if she can’t. I’m not sure I deserve forgiveness.
“How did you feel when you realised you had the world record?” someone asks. It’s Mel Braithwaite; she must have interviewed me dozens of times now. I’ve always liked her. I never felt like she was gleefully waiting for me to fail.
“Honestly, I was just surprised,” I tell her, and she laughs. “I’ve spent so much of my life chasing this record. It’s been so long in the making thatI didn’t believe it had happened. I had to look at the results board two or three times just to process it.”
I pause. What do I want to say now that I’ve done the thing I’ve always dreamt of?
“But really it’s not just me that’s been doing the work behind this. So many people have supported me along the way and I really need to thank them, because I can never thank them enough. The British coaches, as well as Coach Campbell at the University of Florida. My family, my teammates.”
“Weren’t you racing one of your university teammates?” Mel asks, smiling.
I nod, waving at Austin as he heads back to the changing rooms. The camera pans from me to follow him.
“Yep.” I turn back. “He’s one of my closest friends. We were roommates in our first year at college and have lived together for the last few years. Having him beside me in the pool feels strangely reassuring. And we’ve never let our rivalry in a race get in the way of our friendship. He’s racing again tomorrow, and I’ll be in the stands cheering him on.”
“Well done, Sam,” she tells me. “I think everyone at home will be loving the replays of that race and so proud of your world record. What an achievement for both you and for the British swimming team.”
I’m about to leave when I feel compelled to turn back. “Can I just say one more thing?” I ask her.
