Let alone that according to my cheapo imitation Fitbit, I had a new personal best to beat.
I couldn’t wait to Larkabout next time.
19
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day Forty-Nine
Thursday evening, Joey had a one-to-one training session with Nathan in Brooksby pool. I’d skipped a run that morning (no, I hadn’t bothered with a cool-down, and yes my muscles were indeed making me pay for it) and was antsy after a day slumped in front of my laptop proofreading health and safety policies for a homeless charity. I decided to stretch both my physical (better late than never, right?), and my courage muscles, with a night-time stroll to the leisure centre. Arriving there nine minutes later, after the fastest stroll known to woman, I sidled up to the huge window that ran alongside the swimming pool and peered in, confident I’d go unseen due to the terrible outside lighting this side of the car park.
I hovered there for a minute, my eyes fixed on the body carving through the near lane only a few metres away, tantalisingly close, while frustratingly hampered by the steamed-up glass. I so wanted to see him clearly, to be able to make out his expression, admire his technique, be the proud mum marvelling at this incredible person I had made. But even the blurred sight of the pool was enough to cause my heart to pitch and toss like a tiny boat on the ocean of anxiety. I couldn’t hear the echoing splash, or smell the chlorine, but my senses burned with the memories. I knelt down, huddling on the hard concrete, gripped the icy window frame, sucked in some sharp October air and tried to console myself that, for this evening, the window was a new personal best.
A few minutes before the end of the session, Nathan and Joey suddenly appeared right in front of the glass. I shrank back into the shadows and watched as Nathan, his back to me, used arm movements to demonstrate what looked like Joey’s turning technique. Joey nodded, both of them gesticulating now, as they discussed whatever the issue was. As they appeared to reach a decision, Nathan ruffled Joey’s hair, a gesture I’d stopped doing about four inches ago, and they burst out laughing before jostling each other back towards the changing rooms.
I slowly heaved my aching muscles up to a standing position and stared into the now empty pool, ignoring the cold seeping in through my coat. I felt blindsided. Blindsided by a ruffle. A jostle. A shoulder slap. Knocked sideways by the realisation of a thousand, a million, tiny interactions missed. Had another man ever ruffled my son’s hair? Play-wrestled him to the ground? Thrown him over his shoulder and carried him up to bed? Errr… no.
Never.
I thought Cee-Cee and I had done okay. Joey was, as he said, awesome. Happy, more often than not. Well-rounded, with a healthy dollop of self-esteem – didn’t that say it all? Since those first few dreadful months, I’d never felt the lack of a father figure in his life. But now, when he had the potential for one in the form of his actual father, did I have the right to deny him the chance? While he might notneedone, wouldn’t anyone benefit from having an extra person in their life to love them? Someone else to cheer them on and pass on their wisdom? Laugh with them and ruffle their hair, in a way that says, ‘I’m with you, I’m here for you, I believe in you and, no matter what, I’m on your squad’?
‘Mum?’
Oh, poop.
I hastily swiped away the tears that seemed to be collecting on my face and sprang away from the window, summoning up a smile.
‘Were you watching?’
‘I had a quick glance, but it was too steamy to see much. I only got here a short while ago. But from what I saw, you looked brilliant.’
‘Why didn’t you come in? You could have sat in the viewing area.’
‘Yeah. Well. I’ve not been that close to a pool since I stopped competing. One step at a time.’
We started walking, my thighs protesting at Joey’s easy long stride.
‘You never told me why you stopped.’
‘It’s complicated. There were lots of reasons.’
‘And? I’m amazingly smart, remember? I think I can keep up.’
‘I have no doubt about that.’
‘Was it because you got too anxious to swim?’
‘No. If anything, it was the opposite.’ I thought about it for a few more paces, trying to get some sort of hold on the choices that were made. I looked at Joey, his white blond hair glinting in the street light, and allowed myself to remember the man who had given it to him but chose not to stay and discover that for himself. ‘Okay, let’s get home and we can talk about it then.’
So we did. Episode one of how I got from there to here…
* * *
‘Mmm.’ I snuggled deeper into Sean’s chest, rubbing my face against his shirt. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go.’
He gently tugged at a strand of my hair. ‘Then stay.’
‘Don’t tempt me.’ I half-heartedly pulled myself upright on the sofa, making a show of scanning about for my shoes. ‘If I miss training with only two weeks to go, Cee-Cee would probably handcuff me until we land in Athens.’
