“We'll get another opinion,” Coach Andre said.“A couple of them.”
Tyler shook his head hard.“I did that.This happened once before, about three years ago, only not as bad.”
“And you recovered.”
“I took off three weeks completely.It was right after....”He swallowed.Right after Mom died.“I rested it and did the cortisone and the ultrasound and the acupuncture and every fucking thing there was.Then I came back slowly, so fucking slowly.”He had been enormously lucky the reinjury had happened months before competition season.“Eventually my back was okay.But the doctors said then I was crazy to risk going back to training that hard.It was a long shot that I'd ever get to compete, better odds that I'd fuck myself up completely.But I couldn't stop back then.”His mom had sacrificed so much for his dreams.How could he have quit, after she'd wished him success and Olympic gold practically with her dying breath?
“And now you can?Two weeks from the goddamn Olympics?”
“Now I have to.”
“You could stay on the team.Come along to London, stand with the guys.If you can't compete then you can't, but maybe keep training.”The coach's eyes were avid, demanding.“Just one event, maybe.Your vault’s up there with the very best.You could ease back, just do one or two events.”
Tyler brushed past the coach to reach the window, clutching the sill in shaking fingers and turning his back to the room.He stared out at the sun-drenched parking lot.Wanting almost drowned him.“Just one event.”Just vault, the skill he'd put a lifetime of sweat and tears into perfecting, the event where he truly felt like he could fly.Or maybe two events.Pommel horse had fewer impacts.Or three… He wanted it so much it hurt to breathe.Wanted to stand there with the team and hear the anthem and wave to the crowd, with that USA on his chest.A lifetime of work and all his mother's support had pointed him toward this goal for as long as he could remember.But he couldn't go as a freeloader, planning to back out at the last moment.And he couldn't risk everyone's hopes on the kind of routines he'd been throwing the last two days.
He recalled a pair of hazel eyes, pleading and compassionate.Eli saying, “What about the rest of your life?”One person in the world at least didn't think his life would be worthless without Olympic gold.
“I have to quit,” he repeated.
There was a long, long silence.He closed his eyes, standing at the window, feeling the sun on his face.Somewhere outside the room, a door slammed.Footsteps ran past.Fast, even, unfettered steps—without a limp.Tyler gripped the windowsill with both hands and waited.
Finally, Coach Andre's voice came, flat and cool.“If your decision is made, I'll call a press conference.You can go home and clean up.I'll let you know when it's set up so you can come back to talk to the reporters, give them the straight story.”
Tyler licked his dry lips.“Tonight?”
“No sense in waiting.Get it done, and give the team more time to adjust.Good thing the committee chose three alternates.Stephen Walsh can hit the big vaults we were counting on from you.Although there’s also floor to consider.We’ll see what the committee thinks.”
Tyler winced and then nodded.That was good.That was the other part of this decision.The guy who would step into his slot deserved to know as soon as possible.No matter what anyone said, there was a world of difference between the way you trained hoping against hope that you might be needed, versus knowing you were chosen to step out on that floor in London.Stephen deserved to know he was getting that chance.
But the thought of a press conference sank like lead in Tyler’s stomach.What if he got up there and couldn't get the words out?What if he cried?He really wanted to ask the coach to just announce his departure for him.The last thing he felt able to do was sit in front of a bunch of cameras and defend his decision, explain it, justify...“Do I have to talk to the press?”The words slipped out.Christ, he sounded like a whiner.
“Yes, son, you do.”Finally, there was a hint of warmth in the coach's tone.“This is the big leagues, and you're a star.A lot of hopes are riding on this team.If you're stepping down, you still need to step up one last time and talk to the media.”
“Okay.”He managed that on barely a breath.
“Do you need anything right now?Trainer?Medic?Should I find someone to give you a ride home?”
“No.”Tyler braced his shoulders and moved away from the window.He turned to look at his coach.“Do you think I can just make an announcement?Like, read a prepared statement?And not answer a bunch of questions?”
“We'll see what we can do.”As Tyler walked past him, the coach reached out and touched his shoulder.“Tyler?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm sorry, son.I know this is as hard for you as it is for me.”
Tyler almost laughed, but held back the bitter sound.He managed to say, “Thanks,” and mostly mean it.
“I'll call you later.Close the door on your way out.”
Chapter 3 - Tyler
Theapartmentwasquietwhen Tyler got home.Eli was presumably still in class, or maybe out at some coffee shop with his friends, or even in some housing office, checking the lists of available apartments.Not that the future mattered now.Odds were Tyler would be moving soon himself.Or something.He’d need to find a different job, one with more money and less lifting than the hardware store.He’d have to build a different life, without training, without competing.He just couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
He stopped in the entryway and turned in a circle.The apartment was the same small, messy, brightly cluttered space it had always been, his home for the last two years.There was no reason he should suddenly feel out of place there.That was his picture on the wall of Kurt Thomas at the Olympics, all sleek lines and concentration.That was Eli's guys-with-pets calendar on the refrigerator.The living room held Tyler's armchair, Eli's couch, the coffee table they'd chipped in for together after a friend fell through the old one during the first party they threw together.
For a moment, he thought about turning around, walking out the door, and leaving it all behind.
But he was twenty-two now, not some irresponsible kid.He had one last duty to fulfill, with the upcoming press conference.After that, if he wanted to be a total wuss and run away, he’d be completely free to do so.He dropped his gym bag in the corner of the living room and made his way to the bathroom.
