I made my excuses and bolted.
If I could move that fast on triathlon day, we might stand a chance at winning.
* * *
I was so blummin’ fast that I was nearly home by the time Nathan caught up.
‘Hey.’
‘I think we’ve already spoken about the wisdom of sneaking up on women in the dark.’ I slowed to a walk, too exhausted all round to keep running while Nathan tried to talk to me.
‘It’s barely dark, Amy. Hadn’t you noticed?’
I glanced up at the clouds all around us, definitely more grey now than black. ‘Yeah, well. I’ve got other stuff to worry about.’
‘Will you let me help?’
I stopped walking.
‘Why would you pick on me, out of all the Larks, to help? Audrey is way slower than me. I wasn’t even in the slowest three this morning. By April I’ll be able to hold my own without extra tuition for the out-of-shape, fat girl, thanks.’
Underneath his beanie, Nathan’s gaze was steady. Authoritative. Slightly intimidating, actually. ‘I don’t help Joey because he’s the slowest. Or out of shape.’ He shook his head, slightly, as if in disgust. ‘And “fat girl”? Really? Like anyone in the Larks ever makes an issue about size.’
I crossed my arms, fat-shamed in a whole new way. ‘So, why am I the one you chase down the street to offer help to?’
Even as I asked it, my heart was about to explode inside my chest, spattering idiotic, hopeless, fantastical feelings everywhere.
It’s not that reason, Amy!
Nathan shrugged, opened his mouth and closed it again a couple of times. Kicked at a non-existent stone on the pavement. Looked up and about as if the encroaching dawn would supply the answer.
‘Because I really want you to be at that triathlon.’
Because…
‘Because it would seriously bother me to think any of the women I coach and train had to miss out on a club event because they couldn’t face it. It bothers me that you can’t relax at the café because you’re so worried about missing the sunrise. That you can’t get your son medicine without having a panic attack in the street.’
‘And I’m working on those things. Making really good progress.’
‘So, with Joey’s trials, what are you thinking about? How you want him to do well, how you’ll be there to offer him your one hundred per cent support? Your… issue…’
‘My mental illness,’ I ground out, like dirt under my shoe.
‘Your illness means that a really big moment in Joey’s life isn’t about him but becomes about you.’
‘Joey knows that I’ll be there! Offering him my undivided attention and support.’
Nathan looked at me. It was my turn to kick at the pavement and scowl at the horrible strip of bronze above the rooftops.
‘Do you think he doesn’t worry about it? About how hard it might be for you? Do you think that he might want you there with himeverytime he competes, cheering him on like only a parent can?’
Dammit. I did not want to hear this. But then, how could I not hear it, unless it really was all about me, and not my child?
‘I don’t think he’s ever going to know how good he is until you see it. Until you say it. Until then, it’s like it’s not even true for him, because your opinion is the only one whose really matters.’
‘I do say it,’ I choked out, past the jagged ball of shrapnel in my throat.
‘It’s not the same.’ His voice was soft, eyes kind. It didn’t make the words hurt any less. ‘Watching on a screen hours later. You know it’s not the same.’
