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Javier nods.
“Perfect. I’ll catch you guys later.”
With Javier’s firm hand on my back, I’m steered between people on the deck. Some say congratulations as I pass. Others ignore me. When I glance over my shoulder, my mother is nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 19
Who You Are
Javier
“Daddy, have you seen my blue shirt? The short sleeved one with the sparrows embroidered on the pocket?” I hear Aleks rummaging around up in the loft. “Ow, fuck, my toe!”
“Slow down, Aleks,” I call out. In the bathroom mirror, I tilt my head to finish trimming the underside of my beard. I stripped down to my boxers as soon as we got back to the bungalow, with the plan of cleaning up my beard before showering.
“I swear it was here this morning.” Another thud, and a muttered curse. “Damn it, I really want that shirt.”
It took us an hour to get back after the medal ceremony. After the interviews and gathering our things from the locker room, I insisted we stop at the dining hall to grab food.
Aleks has not slowed down to eat yet. From the moment we walked in the door, he has been pacing and buzzing and checking his phone. His thoughts are loud and jumbled along our bond, and he emits a wild, frantic energy that shows no signs of slowing down.
I carefully clean up the hair clippings. “Come shower, boy!”
He makes a loud, frustrated noise. “I need to find this shirt first!”
“Shirt later, Aleks. Shower. Now.”
He is in nothing but briefs and white tube socks when he stomps into the bathroom, face twisted in a scowl. He does not look like a man who just made history, a man who defied the forces who tried to keep him from returning to his sport.
I do not know what is bothering him, but I plan to find out.
“Come here.”
His shoulders drop as he approaches me, and I see exhaustion in his heavy eyes.
“Time to get these off,” I say, dropping my voice to the lower, softer register I reserve for moments like this. I pull his briefs down and over his hips, holding them steady while he steps out of them. Once his socks are off too, I toss them into a corner. “Help me with mine.”
His hands are on the waistband of my boxers, shoving them down and out of the way. I turn the shower on, adjusting the temperature to be as hot as Aleks likes it.
As soon as we are both in the crowded space, Aleks’ head tips forward, resting on my shoulder. His transformed ear tickles my cheek, and I feel his breath slow.
“It was a big day today.” I rub my hands up and down his back.
“Yeah.”
“It can feel destabilizing to be on the other side of a huge goal, especially something years in the making. Before today, you knew exactly what you were working towards. Every day had a purpose. Now, I imagine things are uncertain.”
Aleks lets out a groan. “Are you in my head right now?”
I laugh. —No, sireno. But I can be.
His laugh is a cool huff on my heated skin. —I feel so weird. I mean, I’m happy, of course I’m happy, but people are talking to me like I’m a hero and I did some wonderful thing, when all I wanted was to swim. I just wanted to swim, and to be me.
Steam billows around us, and I look down at the iridescent droplets clinging to Aleks’ skin. This man has given so much of himself in the pursuit of his dream, and now, for the first time, he is on the other side of it. The bronze medals sitting on the counter of the kitchenette are proof of everything he has worked for.
“We cannot control the stories the world tells about us,” I say out loud. “And whether or not you set out to change the world, your performance today will ripple outward. It will touch the lives of others. Seeing you on the podium, joyously living as yourself, could be the reason someone lives to fight another day.” His breaths quicken. “But love, none of those things change who you are. This is your life. Yours. And I am here to help you fight for the life you want to live.”
Aleks presses closer to me, his arms wrapping around my body. “I don’t know what life I want to live,” he admits. “Everything has been about the Clash, about competing again.”
