Ben handed me the mic pack and I shoved it in my rear pocket. “Well, I now know that you have the world’s best mother, according to your mother. And thatshe’sthe one who pushed you to try a new direction. That about sums it up so far.”
Instead of feeling angry, I deflated. There was no way I could refute what she’d said without blowing up the whole interview.
“Based on that,” he continued, “I want to keep this group segment short. I can already sense how it’s going to go. Here, you know the drill.”
He handed me the mic and I threaded the cord down the front of my cashmere sweater. I’d worn a simple black turtleneck and pulled my hair in a ponytail, because it was the exact look she hated.
“Your poor nervous system,” Ben said with a sad smile. “First the flight and now this. You holding up okay?”
I nodded unconvincingly, and he moved closer to me.
“Hey. We’ve got this,” he said softly as his dark eyes held mine.
We. The word kept popping up, and I was starting to like what it signified.
“It’s going to be fine,” he continued. “But I want to have a code, for if you need to pull the plug. Just say ‘spiral,’ okay? Work it into your answer and I’ll end the interview so smoothly they won’t even know what hit them.”
I glanced over my shoulder at my parents and then back at Ben. “I hate this.”
He reached out to gently grasp my arm. “I know,” he replied. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
We shared the moment in silence as I redefined the person I thought I had all figured out. I’d always considered Ben to be quicksand dragging me down, but I was learning that he was actually an anchor, holding me steady in rough waters.
“What are you two gossiping about over there?”
And the spell was broken, thanks to my mom.
“Just strategizing. We want to watch the time so we don’t overstay our welcome,” Ben answered breezily.
“Exactly, because the snow’s about to start any minute,” my dad said.
He pointed up to the glass ceiling of the sun porch and sure enough, the sun slid behind a dark cloud.
“Yeah, the Weather Service just changed it from a winter storm watch to a warning.” Neil glanced up from his phone. “It’s supposed to get really bad in a couple of hours.”
“How far is the hotel from here?” Ben asked.
“It’s close, like eight minutes,” Neil answered. “I figured we wouldn’t want to drive far.”
I wished that he’d asked me where we should stay, because he’d accidentally picked a cozy little spot that was perfect for a romantic getaway.
“Let’s get to it, then,” Ben said. He locked on to me again. “Are you ready?”
I nodded and headed for the chair set up between my parents.
My mom slid her arm around my shoulders as I sat down. “This is so exciting!”
I noticed that one of the cameras was still rolling so I forced a smile. “Yup!”
We’d done plenty of interviews together but usually she did all the talking.
Neil moved in front of us and slapped the digital clapperboard with a guillotine chop. I was so on edge that I jumped, making my mom giggle at me. He slid on his headphones and took his position by the primary camera. I was happy to see Hailey behind her camera and ready to go.
“Okay, let’s get started!” Ben sat down across from the three of us. “Quinn, your parents did a great job going over your origin story when you were little, so now I want to focus on what’s next.” He paused, to build in space for the edit between his overviewfor us and the first official question. He rearranged his face into a smile. “Tim, Tricia, how will you feel when Quinn wins gold in Italy?”
No mention of the messy middle of my Olympic journey four years prior, plus he was manifesting a win for me. Thanks, Ben.
My dad started to answer, but my mom stepped on his words.
