“Correct.”
He put on a hurt expression. “You used to value my opinion.”
That wasn’t untrue. Her dad had always beenaround, more than everyone else’s support networks. He had helped her stay insulated, focused.
And she had needed that. Wanted that. Thrived that way.
But insulation and isolation were starting to feel pretty similar. And if this was her last experience, her last shot at Olympic gold, it was time to do things differently.
“I love you, Dad. But I’m not entertaining this type of, I don’t know, debriefing with you right now.”
Big girl words.
“I’ve never known you to be ungrateful,” he said. She braced for a lecture about the insane amount of time spent, the money, the sacrifices. “But it’s your choice. I don’t need to stick around just to bear witness to your mistakes.”
And that was the rub, wasn’t it? Shewasracking up the mistakes, one after another. The interview, the sunglasses, the loss of focus, Kirby Bonham.
Doubt trickled through her brain. What if he was right? If everything fell apart, would she look back at this moment and wish she’d exhausted herself racing all six events? Would she wish she’d made more money with appearances and sponsorships prior to the Olympics? Would she wish she had molded the media story around her in a way that benefited her more?
Maybe it would have been better to do extra commercials and press. To hit the princess narrative harder.
Her dad stood up, and she jumped. She felt upset.
“Guess I’ll give you that space,” he said.
She nodded. “Don’t forget your coffee.”
He snatched it off the table and walked away.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
The last personKirby expected to knock on her door was Mara May.
“Can I help you?” Kirby asked, trying to infuse her voice with some teasing. It had been days since they’d spoken, and Kirby wasn’t quite sure what attitude she should bring to this interaction.
Mara didn’t bite at the joking tone. She said, “Is Jordan here?”
“No. She’s over at the training center. Why?”
“I bought her glasses.” Mara held up a shopping bag from a high-end Italian sporting goods store.
“Wow. That’s nice of you, which is… odd. You know most of us have sponsorships with?—”
Mara slipped by Kirby, entering the room completely uninvited, leaving Kirby standing in the doorway gaping at air.
“Okay.” Kirby followed Mara. “What are you doing?”
Mara tossed the bag onto Jordan’s bed, the sunglasses rattling.
“What’s this?” Mara held up her phone. A video started to play, but it was muted. It was from a queer outdoor and winter sports podcast she had done a few days ago. It had been a casualchat. Kirby knew they were going to post clips soon, but she hadn’t seen any yet. The host had asked her a million questions, from how she felt about the new equal racing distances for men and women (“big fan of equality”), to her opinions on the current political climate in the US (“fuck those hateful fuckers”), to her thoughts about her main opponents.
Uh-oh.
“It’s muted,” Kirby said.
Mara made a very unladylike noise and tossed her phone onto Kirby’s bed. “You know what you said.”
