by Anne Leigh
“Milo...,” I called from behind him, silently begging him to come back, to talk through this.
The look he gave me was enough to make my heart constrict achingly, painfully. His eyes reddened, his shoulders stiff as a pole, and his fists were shaking at his sides. “No Brynn. Stone will never have my blessing. You could drag me through hell and back a hundred times and I will still tell you the same thing, ‘He’s not good enough for you.’ The only thing that is stopping me from going back to where he’s at and punishing the shit out of him is that you are my sister. But know this, I will do everything I can to make you see that he’s not a good man. Especially for you.”
I stifled a gasp and tears began to form in my eyes. Before my tears spilled over, Milo had stomped out and slammed the door. This was worse than I thought, graver than what I had conceived in my head. Milo would never accept Kieran. His hatred for Kieran dug deep. It wasn’t just about their rivalry or Dia. To my brother, Kieran wounded him deeply and the scar was so profound it remained bruised, unhealed, and festered. Now, that scar has reopened the damage so great that the chances of it ever healing are now pretty much non-existent. Like a necrotic tissue, no oxygen can go in and out of the wound so it remains dead; if left in, the effect could be detrimental, fatal.
My brother was a good man. However, Kieran has threatened the peace, the solidarity that we had formed since I was in my mother’s womb; strengthened by the years and tragedies we have overcome. I was the single thread that held Milo in place. When everything and everyone left us, I was the only one who remained. Now, Milo was thinking that I was leaving him. A part of me wanted to deny that. A part of me wanted to say ‘no’, that I would be standing with my brother until the end. Even Milo must have sensed that if he had asked me to stop seeing Kieran, my answer would be different, not one he would have liked.
When I was ten, I fought for my life in the hospital. I went through chemotherapy treatment, and at night when I went to sleep, I prayed I would wake up so I could see those green eyes smiling down at me, knowing that he had not left me. Now, I can barely go through my days without wanting to look at a pair of deep brown eyes, which have slowly been embedded in to every fiber of my being. Since we were children, we had been so attuned with each other that Milo knew if he had asked me to choose tonight, I would have chosen Kieran. To him this was the deepest, most painful cut Kieran could have inflicted, turning his very own sister against him.
“I wish to go to Paris.”
~N.V., age 15, hypoplasia
“Focus, Stone. Focus,” Coach Smith instructed in a reprimanding tone. We were discussing the strategy for the finals in the 400-meter IM. “You need to shave of two seconds from your time. Tanner’s prelim time was faster than yours.”
I tilted my head in acknowledgement. I didn’t watch Milo’s swim. I hardly watch other competitor’s swim. For me, I was my own biggest rival. Milo swam fast, but I swam faster. But Coach was right; I had to focus. When I went for a dip in the pool this morning, my mind was not in the water. Coach must have seen that. He kept instructing me to watch my strokes, push against the wall to propel my kicks, and not lag on the swim. He usually didn’t push me a lot during warm-ups or training, but he must have sensed my lack of focus because he was on me today. And he had a right to be. This was it. The World Championships. A step closer to the Olympics.
I listened to what Coach had to say while I worked on my shoulders. I felt loose and that was a good thing. My shoulder strain was still there, but I could power through it. I was powering through it in all my events. I was competing with the best of the best. I’ve experienced worse shoulder pain than this; I would be fine.
I trekked the short distance to the hotel and walked softly to the bedroom. It was only nine in the morning. Brynn would still be sleeping. After the debacle with her brother a few nights ago, she has been staying with me at night. I took my shirt and jeans off, and left my boxers on. I wanted to feel her skin close to mine. She stirred when my body caused the bed to dip down. Brynn liked to sleep under the covers, so I slipped under the covers. The minute my hands made contact with her panty-covered ass, I got hard. It was always like this with Brynn. She made me feel this uninhibited desire.
“Mmm…,” her low murmur hit my ears, though she faced the other way. I stroked her hair and my hands started a lazy path down her body. I liked having her with me, especially at night. During the past few months, I slept at her place or she slept at mine, depending on our schedules. Since she lived in a one-bedroom apartment, I stayed in her bedroom when Milo came over for breakfast. He was there, like clockwork, from nine until 10:30 almost every morning. Brynn hid my shoes and clothing inside her room because Milo never went in there. It was a struggle for me to go along with it, but I did. I did it because she asked me to. Anything Brynn asked, I would give. Until a few nights ago. I just couldn’t help myself anymore. She was mine, and when I saw her wearing my colors along with her brother’s, it was all too much for me to take. I knew a disaster was bound to happen when Milo found out but I was ready for it. I’ve been ready for it. Many times, I wanted to just drive to his place and talk to him man-to-man about my feelings for his sister, but I stopped myself because I thought of Brynn, her reaction, her feelings. It was difficult to shove aside my uneasiness while waiting for her phone call the other night, when she left with Milo. I thought she was going to call me and tell me that we were over.
Before she left the locker room after the showdown between Milo and I, she kissed me passionately, and I thought she was saying goodbye. So when she called, after three long hours, I answered on the first ring. Her voice was extremely sad, despondent and she said, “I’m outside your door.” I couldn’t get to my door fast enough to open it. She stood there, still in her blue and red shirt, jeans, and flip-flops, and when her eyes met mine, I knew without a doubt that she had meant what she told me before all the mess with Milo happened. She loved me. It was right there in her deep blue eyes, brimming with tears, her lips quivering, and her hands shaking at her sides. She was on my doorstep, and for the first time in my life, I found myself loved. A girl had chosen me for me. No conditions. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, and I drank my fill of her.
That night, I made love to her. What I could not say with words, I showed her with my body. I loved her. I didn’t love her because she loved me. I loved her because in spite of me, with every unspoken word and demand that I put on her, she had crept into my soul and made me love her. She didn’t need me to say it. Brynn didn’t ask anything of me. She just gave me herself and asked for nothing in return. I should have known that the first time when she invited me to have breakfast with her, it wasn’t just for breakfast; she was asking me to become a part of her life. Because Brynn didn’t do anything half-measuredly. She put in everything, gambled all of her winnings, never mind the losses, because her struggles have taught her that in order to live, she had to give it all. And now, she was giving it all to me. Despite her brother’s protests, risking her relationship with him after I put her on the spot, she was still with me. It was up to me to take care of that trust and love that she has shown me. Up to me to ensure that she and her brother would still have the type of relationship that they had before. I knew that as much as she loved me, she would not be whole without Milo, and I didn’t know if I could handle that. If I was to be a part of her world, her brother had to be, too. Because I knew how much she loved him, and I could not bear to see how much it would her hurt if he was not a part of her life.
Kieran had his five events in the bag. He won the 100-m butterfly, 200-m butterfly, 200-m freestyle, and 200 m-individual medley single-handedly, and the 4 x 200-m freestyle relay - an event that he and my brother had to win as a team. The tension between them could have sliced the pool in half, but they did their jobs and swam as a unit with the other two swimmers to win the gold. He has become one of the most decorated swimmers at this event. My brother was, too. Milo had two golds and a silver, in the 200-m backstrok
e, 4 x 200-m freestyle relay, and 200 m-freestyle.
I was so proud of Kieran and Milo. They were doing what they came for, excelling, and achieving their dreams, against the best of the best. The one thing that I wished for, hoped for, was for them to talk to each other, or for Milo to acknowledge Kieran was now a part of my life. But I guess that was why wishful thinking was called ‘wish’ful. It had no place in reality.
After what happened a few nights ago, Milo and I had barely talked. He was hurting. His pain was simmering below the surface. Two days ago, he knocked on my suite unexpectedly. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair disheveled and his clothes unkempt. My brother, the ultimate neat freak, was a mess. I couldn’t help myself. I opened my arms to him and embraced him. He looked so lost.
He asked, “Is he here?”
I replied, “No. He has finals today.”
He nodded his head and sat down on the couch. He turned on the TV, channel-surfed, and stopped on a sports channel. The 200-meter individual medley finals were live. Milo didn’t swim this event. His other teammates, Leif and Jarod, swam the event.
“Why aren’t you there, watching him?” He asked in a voice just loud enough for me to hear. As soon as I saw him sit down on the couch, I went into the mini-kitchen to start making him breakfast. Milo loved it when I cooked him breakfast. I stocked up on groceries since I knew that throughout this more than 2-week event, with eight days of swimming events, I would be cooking for him and Kieran. I had been bringing Kieran breakfast to his room before or after Milo left every day since we arrived here in Shanghai. What made it easy was that we were all staying in the same hotel. What made it harder was that we were all staying in the same hotel, so before the events of a few nights ago, I had to sneak into Kieran’s room every night. Ava had the good sense to suggest that I reserve a room on the same floor as Kieran’s, which was two floors down from Milo. Milo was rooming with Leif, so even if he had wanted me to share with him, he would not have offered because Leif took up a lot of room.
“He said you might stop by today,” I answered, holding the red mixing bowl with both of my hands while setting it atop the couch. The hotel room that I had reserved was like a mini-condo, complete with kitchen utensils, pots, and pans and was the perfect setting for me to make breakfasts for the two men that I loved. I was going to watch Kieran swim, but he had alluded that Milo might stop by because he didn’t have an event today. He must have checked my brother’s events somewhere to know.
Milo muted the TV. On the screen, Kieran was now swimming the last ten meters of the 200-m event. I was going to watch it by myself before Milo came in. I saw Kieran reach the wall, and as he always did, he pressed his right hand to his nose, blowing out water, and then looked up at the electronic scoreboard. He then raised his right arm up in the air and looked towards the stands. Today, his parents had arrived so he knew they were there. Zander and Sedona were also there, along with Duncan and Peter.
I smiled when the camera zoomed in on Kieran’s face. He looked so happy. My guy. He was doing what he did best, performing at the highest level.
Milo didn’t react to Kieran’s win, he merely stated, “Good race. Where’s breakfast?”
He turned the TV off, bent his knees to grab the juice from the refrigerator, and grabbed two glasses that were on the drying rack by the sink.
“Almost done,” I said, pouring the pancake mix into the heated pan.
After requesting I make omelets as well, he walked back to the couch, judging the kitchen table to be too small for his own liking, with a glass of orange juice in his right hand. He has not said anything about Kieran and me, not a word aside from the small commentary about me watching Kieran swim. I eyed him from time to time. He scrolled through his phone, and when I told him that it was time to eat, he lazily walked to a chair and started eating. Again, he was quiet. Milo was never quiet, especially with me.
I ate slowly and chewed my food ten times longer than I normally did. My appetite was fading.
He was on his second omelet when he lifted his eyes from his plate, and said, “I love you Bee.”
I started crying, I couldn’t help it. Across the tiny table, he picked up a napkin and gave it to me.
He continued, “I only want the best for you...”
Of course he did. He saved the last piece of the pizza for me. He made sure I had new shoes, before he did, every time the new school year came. He convinced our Aunt Margie to buy me the latest Kitchen Aid mixer when I was 14. Our Aunt Margie hesitated because of the price, but Milo contributed money that he had saved to pay for it because I saw it on TV and I wanted it. When I went to college, he looked through pages and pages of apartments to ensure that I was safe, and even when Ava’s parents vouched for it, Milo had stayed a week after Ava and I had moved in to check out the area.
“I know.” The tears had stopped falling from my eyes, but my heart was heavy with unvoiced emotions.
He finished eating and when he stood up, I excused myself to go to the bathroom to clean the mess that I’d made of my face.
Before I turned around, he reached for me and hugged me. “Bee, remember that … I only want the best for you.”
His words left me bereft of speech again. I stayed in his hug, and when he finally let go, I almost ran to the bathroom. Once I reached the door, I cried. I cried for my brother who was unhappy with me. For Kieran who couldn’t tell me he loved me. For myself, because I was torn apart. For everything that was going on, all because I loved a man who ripped my brother’s heart into shreds. As Ava had said last night, while we talked on the phone since she was in Paris attending some family business-related event, “How Shakespearean could your life get?” She was right. I just prayed that it didn’t end like any Shakespearean story—in tragedy.
“I dream of having a Sweet 16 party.”
~ R.W., age 15, liver transplant
Tonight was the night.
Finals.
The best of the best. Fighting, swimming for another gold.
The thing with swimmers is that they do not get a lot of respect.
At least, that is what I think.
When we were in grade school, kids constantly teased my brother that he was “not a real athlete” or called him “merman” or “gay.” Needless to say, the perpetrators didn’t survive the day without getting a face-to-fist lesson with my brother.
I knew firsthand the supreme athleticism and devotion of the swimmers who were now lined up on the starting block: from my brother, who I had personally witnessed throughout the years, his friends, who I had the pleasure of being acquainted with, and to Kieran.
Kieran was on Lane 5, Milo on Lane 4, Leif on Lane 6, and the other guys? I thought one was from Australia, another from Italy, and the last ones I had no clue. Leif and Milo were chatting while Kieran tugged on his headphones. He liked to listen to music while waiting for the race to start. When I asked him what he listened to, he told me that he liked Beethoven and Mozart. I gave him an incredulous look and he shrugged his shoulders and said, “They calm me down.” Like he needed any more calming down. I told him that he looked calm and relaxed before he raced. He looked at me, and replied, “I am calm. In my head, I am visualizing how the race is going to progress. What I’m going to do when I come off the turn, how many turns I have to do, depending on the number of laps I have to complete. Brynn, my still point is in the water. There is adrenaline, of course, then there is anticipation, but believe me, when I am competing against the best, I am at my calmest. I dig deep inside myself and I know how to win. Just how much to push myself.”
Swimmers relied on their own skills. Unlike in football where a quarterback could throw or run the ball, there was no ball to be thrown in swimming, only your body. You had no helmets or protective gear. No offensive line was there to protect you. Your body was your shield. No one was going to look after you but yourself. Basically, your own body and your skills, after months and years of training, brought you to the top or the bottom of the pack
. There was an immeasurable amount of self-reliance, and confidence that you would be faster than the other person, that you could break records, World or Olympic. You had no time to look up at a scoreboard to see how fast you’re up or how slow you’re behind another swimmer. The only score that mattered was the final time, the final score.
Maybe that was what made Kieran one of the world’s best. He had the natural ability to block out everything else around him, and he compared himself to himself. Mentally, he was one of the toughest people I knew. There was a lot of pressure around him, a lot of media hoopla that surrounded him; but he took it all in stride. He remained true to his values, tried to keep his privacy, and didn’t feed in to the hype that came with his status as the country’s number one swimmer. He did things because it came from his heart.
I watched as Kieran eyed me from the pool where I was sitting a few rows from his family and friends. He gave me a small tilt of his head and a smile; he had most likely just listened to what I had dubbed as ‘Brynn’s playlist for Kieran’ on his iPod. The latest song that I added was Smack That by Akon. What? I wanted to introduce him to pop music, add rap and hip-hop to his musical collection.
“Who are you rooting for Brynn?” Sedona asked on my right side. She had arrived in Shanghai with Zander. We had dinner last night, along with Ava, Duncan, Peter, and Kieran’s family. Kieran couldn’t go because he had to be up early in the morning.
“I want there to be a tie,” I answered honestly. If Kieran won, this would be his sixth gold medal at the World Championships, an unprecedented achievement in swimming. If Milo won, this would be his fourth medal, which would solidify his ranking as one of the world’s best.