“Rolling?” asked Margaret to the cameramen. They both gave her a thumbs up. “Rolling,” she said with a smile, looking to Rob.
“In our on-going series of Behind the Olympian,” began Rob, looking directly into one of the cameras. “We’re here with USA women’s swimmer, Marie Mullally. How are you feeling, Marie?”
“Great!” I said, beaming, trying to remain positive for the cameras.
“It’s been a difficult road to the Olympics for you, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right,” I said. They had coached me on what I was to generally speak to before the interview and I obliged. “I was supposed to compete 4 years ago but due to the untimely death of my parents, I had to drop out.”
“That’s heartbreaking,” said Rob, though his dialogue obviously seemed rehearsed. I didn’t blame him for it. These talking heads interview so many people that I imagine it gets tough to really feel for your subject. “But we’re so lucky to have you competing this year for the USA. It’s going to be an intense competition.”
“It will be,” I said. “Both Japan and Germany have really great teams this year, and the UK is always tough.”
“And Brazil,” said Rob.
“And Brazil,” I repeated. “True. They’ve stepped up their game and they intend to really give us a run for our money.”
“Now you’re competing in multiple events,” said Rob. “The 400 meter freestyle individual as well as the 400 meter team medley relay, is that correct?”
“Correct,” I said. “And I’m a favorite to win my individual.” I grinned with an authentic happiness. The reality of it was really starting to pour over me.
“In your team event,” said Rob. “You’re the anchor. What does that mean?”
“I’m the last swimmer in the medley,” I said. “I’m swimming the freestyle stroke. It’s an important position not only because I’m the final swimmer to go, but also because I’m standing there the longest, psyching the rest of the team up, trying to keep everyone focused.”
“It must be a lot of pressure,” he said.
“It can be,” I admitted. “But I’m good at it.”
“Now you’re swimming with your teammate Amber Hemsworth in the relay, but you’re competing against her in your individual event,” said Rob. “Does that cause any internal competition?” He smiled at me, the lines on the sides of his eyes showing.
“Oh no,” I said. Yeah, I was lying a bit. I had to. Would you want to get into the drama I was experiencing on television? “We all cheer each other on and support one another. If Amber beats me in the individual, I’ll be happy for her. And I’m sure she feels the same way.”
“That’s nice to hear,” said Rob. “Why don’t you give us the inside scoop? Do you think both you and Amber will stand on the podium? Who takes Gold?” I laughed at him. This whole thing was silly, this interview, but it definitely made me excited for the events to come.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, trying to be cagey. “I think I’ll be up there holding the Gold.”
“Ah ha!” said Rob in a mock-discovery tone. “We’re breaking the story right now. Marie Mullally takes Gold in the 400 meter freestyle.”
“Nah,” I said. “I don’t want to jinx it. I’m going to do my best, swim like I’ve never swam before. I hope to show America just how hard I’ve trained and make my country and my team proud.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Rob. “We want to thank Marie Mullally, first-time Olympian at 25 years old, for this candid interview. Marie, it was a pleasure,” he said with a smile. “And we here at MBC Sports wish you luck.”
“Thanks Rob,” I said, turning from looking at Rob to facing the camera, just as they’d instructed me.
“We’ll be right back,” said Rob. The two of us then waited a few moments in silence.
“Perfect,” said Margaret finally. “Thanks so much, Marie. We appreciate you taking the time to come sit with us.”
“My pleasure,” I said, standing up from my chair. As I did, a member of the production staff ran up to me and deftly removed the microphone they had affixed to me.
“Really nice meeting you,” said Rob, extending his hand. I took it and we shook. “Good luck in the Games.” After his well-wishing and a final smile, Rob Cochran wandered off from the set. It was so strange to see him in person. He looked a lot older than he appeared on TV.
I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, until I caught eyes with Margaret.
“Thank you, Marie,” she said. “You’re free.”
“Okay,” I said. I shrugged and wandered off set.
My emotions were all over the place. Off and on over the last few weeks, I had wondered to myself why I’d even put myself in this position. I was hurting from Amber’s antagonism and I was hurting from losing Dasha. Doing something this big, being an Olympic competitor, it takes a lot of risk and a lot of effort. It can drain you physically and emotionally. I pondered to myself whether it just would have been better to stay in Chicago, get a job, build some career outside of swimming, and try to be normal.
But once I got to Rio and settled into the Olympic Village, the area within the Games built specifically for the athletes and trainers to stay, my tune changed. I mean, to meet all these other people who had worked just as hard as me, sacrificed a normal life, and put it all on the line for the glory that the Olympics could bring them, it was just jaw-dropping. I was so grateful I never gave up. The Olympic Village opened my eyes and made me feel far less alone.
You think just because you’re in competition with some of the other countries that it’s going to be like some sports movie and people are going to spurn athletes from other teams. And sure, there was a bit of that. But I found most people to be friendly, outgoing, easy to talk to. Even the other swimmers who I was in direct competition with. For the most part, it was a convivial and lively atmosphere. Although it was no surprise to me because I’d been told about it beforehand, the Olympic Village was actually quite sexual. You bring together all these athletes from around the world, in peak physical condition, a lot of beautiful people, and it’s no wonder that the environment leans toward sex.
Even though, I admit, I spotted a couple of girls that struck my fancy, my mind was still centered on Dasha. I knew she was avoiding me and that just made me want her more. I told myself that after the Games, after all this worked itself out and we were no longer in our professional relationship, it would be then that we could really ramp things up between us. But honestly, I didn’t know. Maybe she made the decision that risking her career for what, to her, might just be a casual fling just wasn’t worth it. Or maybe she didn’t feel the same way about me as I did about her.
And the guys in the Olympic Village. How ridiculous. For some reason, the German guys really loved me. A disproportionate number of German men tried to pick me up. I guess, perhaps, because I look a bit German? I don’t know. But I got a kick out of it. After a while it became a game with me and some of my teammates. I told Abigail about it and she didn’t believe me, so we worked out a bet. Every time a German guy hit on me she had to give me $5. By the time she owed me $30 she told me the bet was off. I just laughed.
I met Rita Müller, the German swimmer who I was in direct competition with, and we got along pretty well. I asked her about the propensity of these German men to hit on me and she rolled her eyes.
“You are blonde and pretty,” she said lackadaisically through her accent. “They are buffoons.”
That made me crack up.
All the joy that living in the Olympic Village brought me only masked the pain I felt for losing Dasha. But I knew that focusing on my pain, obsessing over things I could not change, would kill my motivation and negatively affect my game. I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to pretend that none of that stuff before Rio ever happened. I tried to forget about Amber being a jealous brat, I tried to forget about losing Dasha, and I tried to forget about the torture brewing inside of me from losing my parents. I kn
ow it’s not healthy to suppress your negative emotions, I know they stew deep down and explode. But I also felt like I couldn’t succeed if I didn’t keep a singular focus. A focus on the pool. A focus on pushing myself forward instead of concerning myself with the stuff that was behind me.
The swimming events took place over the course of two weeks, each event having preliminary rounds for the teams to climb up the ranks and qualify for the finals. Team USA was a huge favorite to win multiple events, which wasn’t really a surprise to us. We were an extremely talented team, possibly one of the most talented teams ever. And that’s even coming off of monster teams from the last couple Summer Olympics. I mean, we were good.
I was focused first on the team medley, working hard with the girls, and yes even working hard with Amber. I tried to push our rivalry out of my mind and just not give in to her attempts to screw with me. I knew she was fuming inside that I had called her bluff but there was very little she could do about it. We both wanted our team to win the medley, so we had to work together.
And win we did. We smoked the competition and took the team all the way to the finals. It was amazing. I’d never felt anything quite like it. Together the four of us, Abigail, Rachel, Amber, and me, we were taking it all the way to the podium for the USA. It was invigorating. It brought us even closer together. We had one goal, one focus.
The four of us waited behind the scenes at the Olympic natatorium, huddled around each other, each dressed in matching team track suits, waiting for our team name to be called. Rachel had her head down and wore oversized headphones over her ears, shaking her head back and forth as she listened to her favorite hip hop tunes. Abigail stood silent, unblinking, or if she did blink I never saw her, trying to keep her mind blank as she got herself into the zone for the event. She was our first swimmer after all and a lot hinged on her. And behind the two of them were Amber and I, calm, relaxed, focused. The other teams that had made the finals with us were also standing around, but everybody had an air of seriousness about them. The most noticeable sound was the crowd out in the stands, awaiting the arrival of their athletes.
In our other event, the 400 meter free, it was looking like both Amber and I were going to make it to the finals. We hadn’t really talked about it, neither of us wanting to jinx it. In fact, we had hardly talked at all on the trip. But as we moved through the brackets and came up for air in the finals, excitement overtaking us with each win, something changed between us. Something had become lighter.
It wasn’t what I expected, but I was floored when Amber finally spoke up. Right there backstage, awaiting the medley finals.
“Marie,” she said carefully. Her tone was different than I’d heard her be with me in a very long time.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry,” she said in earnest, her eyes looking weak. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a bitch to you.”
“Really?” I said, unable to suppress my growing smile.
“Really,” she affirmed. “I really let my competitive spirit get out of hand.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I said. “It means a lot to me.”
“This journey we’ve been on,” continued Amber. “To the medley finals. I mean, it’s been a blast. And it’s really opened my eyes. I’ve just been jealous of you and greedy for a win. I haven’t been a team player.”
“I understand,” I said. “I haven’t been a very good friend over the last couple of years either.”
“Do you think that maybe you and I,” intoned Amber. “Like, we could go back to being how we used to be when we were younger?”
“Maybe,” I said with a growing grin. “Maybe after the 400 free.” This gave Amber a little laugh.
“I’ve just been such a bad person,” she said. “I don’t know why. But I’m so grateful we’ve been able to do this medley together. I really felt it in the last race. When I saw you jump into the water after I hit the wall, something just changed in me. And… I hope you forgive me.”
“I do,” I said. I could see that Amber almost wanted to cry so I stepped toward her and wrapped my arms around. She eagerly accepted my hug and returned it. That’s all that really needed to be said. It was that easy. Sometimes we can let our emotions overtake us, dictate our actions, turn us against people who really just want to love us. It’s not something you can always apply reason to. Amber never really hated me. At one point in our lives, she had been like a sister to me. And just like a sister, she could push my buttons and I hers. Sometimes in a family you can lose sight of what’s important. You can lose sight of love.
“Thank you,” Amber said softly. “Let’s win, okay?”
“You know it,” I said.
The Olympics are magical. I mean, you watch them on television and they’re magical then, sure, but when you’re inside of them, when you’re competing, they are otherworldly. They have enough spirit within them to flip a switch in your mind, turn hate into love, and show you that reality that’s been in front of your face the entire time.
“Team USA!” we heard over the loudspeaker. “Abigail Wang,” was called first, and I saw Abigail begin to stride out, still swaying to the music in her headphones. “Rachel Kubes,” was next and out went Rachel. I gave one final smile to Amber as we began to follow. “Amber Hemsworth,” came from the speaker as Amber entered the natatorium. And then came me, smiling, looking out into the stands. A group of spectators hoisted a huge American flag over their heads. The energy in the room was palpable. It was like a bizarre dream.
“Marie Mullally!”
I looked out and waved. I felt myself start to shake, just for a split second, before I relaxed and took a breath and realized that this was what I always wanted. I was there.
Stripped out of our tracksuits and now standing there in our swim gear, the four us stood in a circle along with Dasha and Jenny. The other teams were doing the same, going over last minute plans, pumping themselves up, basking in the excitement of the competition. This race was for the Medals. By this point, Team USA swimming had already won a handful of Medals in both the men’s and women’s events. But this was our event, the one we’d trained so hard for, and we were determined to add to the Medal count.
“I have nothing more to say,” admitted Dasha. “We all believe in you. The entire team, the coaches, your country. We know what you’re capable of and we know you’ll be flying the American flag atop that podium.” Dasha’s eyes darted over to me and we held each other’s gaze for a steady beat. I wanted to break the huddle, leap across the floor, and hug her tightly. I wanted this to be resolved, I could feel it aching deep in my heart.
“Marie,” said Jenny. “You’re our anchor. We’re relying on you for that last leg. All the girls here know how talented you are, how driven, how fast. Are you up to the challenge?”
“Yes, Coach,” I affirmed with a single nod.
“Can we rely on all of you to take us to the top?” asked Dasha in a serious tone. “Can we rely on all of you to give us your all and bring a Medal home to America?”
“Yes, Coach,” we all said in unison.
“I believe you,” said Dasha. “Show me that you are true Olympians.”
With that, we broke from the huddle and with a revitalized sense of vim we stretched and prepared, each of us attuning our mental game and our physical game. We were so close to the beginning of the race, it was all happening so fast, and before I could even blink I saw Abigail walking up to the edge of the pool and jumping in along with the backstrokers of the other teams. Abigail sank under, dousing herself, and then came up to the surface once more and wiped the water from her face.
At times I felt like I was outside of my body, looking down from above, watching everything I did as though I were the main character in a movie about my life. I approached the pool, to the side of one of the starting blocks, and looked down to Abigail with a wide grin.
“You’re amazing, Abigail,” I said. “You can do this.”
“Thanks Marie,” she said, smi
ling back at me. She reached her hand up and we slapped palms, holding onto each other’s hands for a moment before releasing, Abigail bobbing on the surface of the water.
Amber slipped up beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, she too looking down at Abigail.
“No worries, Abigail,” she said. “Kick ass, do your best, and we’ll pick up any slack. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Abigail smiled and gave Amber a thumbs up.
We got the signal that the event was about to begin. The audience was going crazy, producing a cacophony of sound that made it difficult to determine who exactly they were cheering for. Each country had their cheering section but it was all just a steady buzz to us down at the pool. We were focused, determined, and the noise from the crowd only pumped us up. Abigail pulled herself up to the deck, positioned at the side of the pool, just as all the other backstrokers had, as she readied herself for the start of the event.
Then the bell sounded and the entire line of swimmers flipped backward in syncopation, pushing off and streaming fast under the water, before finally coming up midway in the pool and furiously beginning their stroke. I watched Abigail intently, feeling myself shouting encouraging words at her even though I knew she couldn’t hear me. It was reflexive. I wasn’t just cheering her on, I was cheering myself on.
As soon as Abigail kicked off from the wall at the opposite end of the pool, Rachel mounted the block, stretching her arms out one last time, preparing for her leap into the pool. It’s so fast. The first leg doesn’t take more than a minute. It happens quick when you’re a spectator, but imagine standing there waiting for your turn. All that competitive pressure pent up inside you, itching for your turn in the water to show how talented you are.
Just as Abigail touched the wall, in went Rachel, jumping over Abigail with a swift leap, slipping into the water with an understated splash, coming up midway to begin the breaststroke. Abigail had already exited the pool and was behind us, quickly drying herself off, eager to return poolside to watch.
Freestyle Flirting: A Sweet Lesbian Romance Page 11