by Shawn Keys
Matteo || Dead? How? I talked to them recently!
Evelyn || An accident. Again, I’m sorry. I can give you the specifics later. Irène never boarded the plane for Havana. She’s with me.
Matteo || How is she doing?
Evelyn || As well as can be. There are other problems. Complications. We can talk about that later. She’ll be staying at my place for the next few days at least.
Matteo || I’ll check for flights as soon as I land.
Evelyn || No! There’s nothing you can do here. Irène needs hugs. I can give her those. She needs legal advice. Leonard Juneau is working that. The funeral won’t be until after you get back. Your team needs you.
Matteo || I have to talk to Irène!
Evelyn || She’s asleep. I’ll have her call you as soon as she’s awake. Ask her if she says she needs you. But she told the others to go. I know she would want the same for you.
Matteo || I’m not one of the athletes.
Evelyn || Can they do this without you?
Matteo || Yes!
Evelyn || Then why are you there?
Matteo || They wanted me here. No-one else is going to be cheering for them. Something about their admittance might get questioned. I’m just here in case things go wrong.
Evelyn || Same things are true now. Ask Irène when you call. I know what she’s going to say.
Matteo clenched his fist three times before answering again. He had to restrain himself from flicking over to the flight website and buying a ticket leaving for home ten seconds after he got there.
Matteo || Have her call me as soon as she is awake!
Evelyn || I’ll tell her you messaged. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you as soon as she can.
Matteo || Thanks.
Nudge nudge. “Think you’re busted, Matteo,” Hélène whispered. “Too much whistling.”
A second later, one of the airline attendants loomed over their seats, looking suitably stern. “Excuse me, Sir. You’re going to have to turn that off.”
Matteo opened his mouth to answer.
The attendant scowled. It was the sort of look that declared ‘I’ve heard it all’ and wasn’t waiting to hear his version of an old excuse. “Now, Sir. We’re about to start our descent.”
Grimacing, Matteo shifted his thumb to the power switch and cycled it off. Even he knew that landing was not the time to mess around with the airplane’s avionics and comm systems. He didn’t know what cell phones could do to them, but he didn’t want to find out.
The attendant gave him a single, crisp nod, then stalked off.
Hélène blew out her held breath. “Damn. That was frosty. At least she didn’t confiscate your phone.” She gestured at it. “You looked pretty intense with whatever you were typing. What’s going on?”
“Personal tragedy. A good friend of mine lost her grandparents in an accident. They’re all she had since her parents died.”
“That’s horrible!” Hélène leaned in, hugging his arm.
Her warmth against his bicep was appealing. She was only wearing a thin, black, cotton top with the fabric tied between her breasts. That revealed a considerable amount of bare, mocha skin above the waistline of her black jeans with distressed rips all up and down her thighs.
Any impact her appearance might have had was muted by the news from back home. “Yeah, it is. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been helping her out as a coach. Handed her off to a guy who knew her sport a little better.” He shook his head. “Haven’t seen her in two weeks. Been a month since I saw her grandparents.” Guilt swelled inside.
“You said it was an accident.”
“Yeah.”
“Then you couldn’t have seen this coming. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Hélène clutched his arm more firmly.
“Easier said than felt,” Matteo grumbled back. He closed his eyes for a second, knowing he was being unfair. “Sorry. It’s miserable news. It’s making me just as miserable.”
“Are you going back?”
“I haven’t decided,” Matteo admitted. “I was texting a friend of the one who lost her family. She insists everything is under control. I’ll be back in time for the funeral.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
Hélène asked, “What’s going to break the tie?”
“If Irène asks me.” He paused. Then, he glanced down, finding her deep blue eyes with his gaze. “Of if you tell me you don’t need me here.”
“What? Of course, we do!”
“There’s a whole pile of difference between wanting and needing. I’m glad you asked me along. I would love to see you all compete. But you’re in this competition. The fee is paid. It isn’t like they can freeze you out.” He gestured across the plane toward Flora. “She’s your coach. She’s the one who’s going to see you through this.”
“And she’s going to be busy with that!” Hélène jotted back at him. “She’s not going to have time to deal with the rest of the shit that we’re going to stir up.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know! That’s the point. We’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe the hotel will end up being overbooked. Maybe some TV station will want to talk to us girls who are kicking off their career at a huge Tirkaheizer competition. Reporters sniff out stories like that. We need that kind of exposure.” Hélène didn’t shy away. “I know you want to be flying back there. If you tell me you need to go, we won’t stand in your way. I’ll speak for the other girls on that. But please, don’t go if you don’t need to.”
Unable to answer, Matteo broke the lock on her eyes, turning to stare out the window. He felt Hélène lean her head against his shoulder, still clinging to him a little. Half of it felt like a hug filled with sympathy. The other half… not wanting to let go of him.
I get it. I’ve seen too many aspiring athletes with no one believing in them. Too few paths to a real future. He loved the hope that dawned in their eyes when he offered a slight hint as to where they might go to pursue their dreams. A partial scholarship. A rich family willing to give an aspiring athlete from an island nation a small donation. A space in a scholarship program unexpectedly opening. Hell, even the simple things were great. Helping them complete college applications with a little more panache than they might have been able to do on their own. Scrubbing their entrance essays to make them shine a little brighter.
He knew this team was worse off than most. There grades weren’t going to get them into a college. He had talked with them a little over the last couple days. Hélène was a cashier at a small food market. Laura did laundry at a hotel, picking up a few extra shifts as a room maid when she got the chance. Daphne looked after kids at a day care, but only part-time. Melodie worked at a clothing factory monitoring stitching for quality assurance. That one paid the best of all, but it was also part-time. All of them had begged off work to go on this trip. Two of them had been threatened with being fired. Melodie was certain she’d be replaced before she got back. Every one of them had decided this was worth it. This was their shot.
He knew it. He knew it better than they did. They seemed like strong souls, all in all. But their money was running out. They had given everything to take this shot. If they failed, he wasn’t sure they would have it in them to try again. If there was a next time, it would have to be smaller. It would feel smaller. Unlikely to get them noticed.
This was their run at it. If he left them, it could cast a shadow on the whole damned thing. They had been treating him like their good-luck charm since he had brought the news that they were in the San Diego competition. That was why he was really there. All the rest of it were good, reasonable arguments, but they didn’t cover the emotional side of it. They wanted him there cheering for them. Wanted him there supporting them. Exactly like Irène had.
He stared hard out the window at the cityscape far below. They were coasting down into one of the most densely populated places on Earth. But there wasn’t a soul down there who could help him make this decision
.
What the hell am I going to do?
* * *
Matteo stood peering up at the departures board. His suitcase was propped against one hand. Warring with himself, his hand clenched on the handle over and over.
“Well?”
The challenge came from his right, from the direction of the luggage return carousels. Matteo turned his head. It wasn’t necessary. He had recognized Daphne’s voice, but there was too much old-fashioned politeness baked into him not to look at the person who was talking to him.
She was as stunning as he remembered. She had been seated over by Flora for the whole flight and he had been separated from the group upon deplaning. The peach-colored dress clung to her in a way that had to be intentional. It had been selected to show off the best of her slender curves. The flirty, ruffled skirt overlapped in the front, suggesting that a lover could easily flip it open to seek the treasures beneath. The top covered everything while hinting at enough of her tawny skin that any admirer would be yearning for more. Like Hélène, with her hair freed from her competition-bun, Daphne had embraced a unique style. Her dark hair flowed down past her exposed shoulders where it swept in waves over them.
Her suitcase trailed behind her, still up on its wheels. There was more than a casual challenge in the way she had come to rest.
He didn’t feign confusion at what she meant. He owed them all more respect than to play ignorant. “The next flight that could take me home doesn’t leave for a few hours.”
“Oh?” Daphne didn’t let up. “Looks like there’s one heading for Dallas in about twenty minutes.”
“There is,” he agreed. “But then I’d be stuck there in a layover for another eight hours. Several shuttle flights leave between now and then to get me there in time. Lots of choices on this side of the trip.”
“Are you going to be on any of them?” she demanded.
The memory of Hélène’s warmth against his arm returned to him. He had felt the fear in Hélène as she clung to him. Fear that he was going to leave them on their own. He had noticed how reluctantly she had let him go after holding him in support all the way through the landing. It hadn’t been a lie. She had beamed strength into him the whole way. But it wasn’t the whole story. She’d been scared that letting go of him as if that was going to lead to him walking away.
This was Daphne’s way of expressing the same thing. Almost daring him to do it.
“What do you want me to say?” Matteo asked.
“It isn’t about what I want,” she spoke briskly. “I’m only wondering what you’re going to say to Melodie.”
He should have expected that. Matteo chanced a glance over toward the exit gate from the luggage area. Melodie was Daphne’s duet partner in addition to being part of their united whole. Their body types were almost exactly the same: fit, sleek and intensely feminine. But though the two of them spent hours upon hours drilling to be exactly alike, outside the pool they couldn’t be more different in their choice of style. Melodie’s hair was tossed into a messy ponytail of tight curls that bobbed so much that they didn’t even touch her neck despite their length. Her T-shirt was powder blue, beaten up and faded by a thousand washes, displaying a snowflake emblem with the slogan ‘Stay Cool’ emblazoned underneath it. That hung loosely over her white-denim shorts and the matching gladiator style sandals beneath.
Melodie glimpsed his way as she exited the gate then averted her gaze in a guilty rush. As if ashamed that she’d been caught looking, she walked fast toward the exit and the chartered mini-bus that was waiting for them.
Matteo wanted to call out to her, but uncertainty stalled him. What am I going to say, anyway? I can’t lie to her. I can’t tell her everything is going to work out when I’m not sure of a damned thing.
Groaning at himself, he looked back up at the board, then tilted back his head in a clear show of agony. “You know this… this isn’t what I wanted.”
“We know. I just…” Daphne went quiet, her strident voice breaking apart. “Look, I’m not trying to make this harder on you. But if you leave… please do it because whoever is back there needs you more than us. Don’t give me that crap you fed Hélène about wanting instead of needing. Because we do. Need you, I mean. We need someone who believes in us. You know what everyone else is going to be saying. We’re the underdogs. We’re the outsiders. We’re going to hear a thousand times about how we’re the million-to-one shot to even crack the top ten. Bets will be placed that we’re going to fall on our faces.”
“That’s not going to happen!”
“And that’s why we need you. Flora’s our coach. We owe her for all she’s done, and she really cares about us. But we need a fan. We need a believer, alright?”
“Irène’s grandparents died. They were my friends,” Matteo said softly.
“Which makes me feel really shitty about putting this on you. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.” Daphne took a step toward him, looking like she was about to risk putting a hand on his arm. She stopped herself at the last second, her hand hovering halfway between them. Suddenly she seemed to remember that she was supposed to be pissed at him, keeping a wall of stony resolve in case he decided to go. Clamping back down, she spun away and walked out in Melodie’s wake, her stylish orange pumps that matched her dress clicking their way across the tiles.
It wasn’t long after that the other two swimmers came out of the luggage area. Flora had beaten Matteo out. She had promised to head out to the mini-bus and confirm that there weren’t any problems. He’d shared his issues with her. Her tight smile and supportive words had been what he had expected. Do what you think is best. We’ll support you either way. All the while, he had read the unspoken hope lurking behind it all. Hoping he’d stay. She’d tried to remain professional, more-so than the rest of the team. That was her role. She’d jogged out ahead of them in her track suit, looking every bit the part of the coach taking control of her team’s fate.
Especially now, Matteo reminded himself. Because if I leave, she’s going to be the one picking up the pieces trying to keep her swimmers focused.
That was the choice he had. Be a source of strength or a cause of weakness. It wasn’t fair. Not to any of them. But that didn’t change the reality of it all.
Hélène veered away from him, casting a last sad smile his way. She headed toward the doors before she could read too much into his expression, like she feared he had already made his decision and wouldn’t be getting on the mini-bus with them. Like she wanted to stay in a state of denial for at least a few more minutes before the grim reality hit home.
Laura slowed and then stopped. A good ten paces separated them, but she didn’t close the distance. She simply stood there, scanning him up and down. He returned the favor, appreciating the young woman for her own unique qualities. Her straight, black hair was crafted to tuck behind her left ear while the other side hung half in front of her right eye, all of it long enough to brush the bottom of her neck. Her sundress floated just above her knees, covering her body in what might be considered a conservative style except for the explosions of splotchy tie-dyed pattern over the underlying pink material.
Reaching some internal decision, Laura padded over to him, her soft-soled shoes all but soundless even on the airport’s tiled concourse. She swept in beside him and hooked her arm around his elbow. “Come on.”
A soft objection nearly managed to escape him… even as he felt himself walking with her, not daring to make her look silly by tugging on him. At double her mass, there was no way she could have dragged him. But he went anyway, drawn along in her silent assurance.
They were most of the way to the doors when he slowed a little. “Mixed signals are always a bad idea, Laura.”
Relenting, Laura came to a stop with him. The automatic doors had slid aside, and the electronic eye now waited patiently for them to make up their minds. The hot San Diego air only slightly chilled by the breeze off the nearby ocean was refreshing compared to the seasonal norms in Po
rtesara. “How long before you get the call?”
“A couple hours. Maybe more.”
“Are you really going to stand here until you get it?”
“I don’t want to mislead any of you.”
“Then don’t,” Laura said, keeping the churn of emotions she had inside relatively suppressed. “But don’t punish yourself until you get the call. Come eat with us. You’ll figure out what you’re going to do. When that happens, we’ll manage it from there.” She found a soft smile. “Last thing you need right now is to be alone.”
“Last thing you all need is to be infected with my problems.”
“Too late,” Laura sighed. “Way, way, way too late for that.” Her voice softened. “Ever think that we might want to be there for you, too? This isn’t only about us. Whether you stay or go, you lost people you care about. Come on. Talk to us. We’ll listen. You were there for us. You’re still here for us. Only right that we’re here for you.” She hugged herself into his arm. “Please?”
He glanced back at the departure board one last time. The times hadn’t changed. The same flights were leaving in the same order. The clock had only counted forward about ten minutes since the last time he had looked.
Hours like that… he’d probably go mad.
Worse, he knew by the time Irène called, he would already have talked himself into going. But if I leave the airport now, will I have the strength to come back? This felt like the time, right then and there. Stay or go?
He turned out to look at the mini-bus idling at the curb. He could see the other women peering out the windows his way. Waiting on him. Counting on him.
He cared about Irène. He always would. The memories of her grandparents were cherished ones that he needed to honor. But his relationship with her had changed. As much as he cared about her, he had given her over into Daniel’s care and the care of those around him. They were a team now. It was on them to look out for her. To hold Irène through her grief.