“He’s better at the two hundred,” Ginny said, “but the breaststroke is his best stroke.”
“Do you run his fan club?” Tim asked. He hoped it didn’t sound snippy, because he didn’t mean it to be.
She grinned. “I just like him. I think he got a bad break. He made some mistakes, and the establishment kind of abandoned him. But here he is, winning races again. It’s inspiring, isn’t it?”
The racers got up on the block. One hundred meters was one lap, just down the length of the pool and back, and the whole race would take about a minute. But Tim’s heart pounded.
Up on the blocks. Set. Go.
Isaac got in the water fast. Everyone seemed pretty much on pace, but the field started to spread out a little as they approached the first turn. According to the scoreboard, Isaac was third in that turn, but he caught some kind of momentum and pulled into second place once he began the back half. Tim slid forward on the seat, leaning to try to see better. Isaac came up to the guy in first place. If no one else caught him, he’d win a medal at least. But Isaac wanted the gold; Tim knew that. Isaac closed the gap in the last twenty-five meters. And then they were at the wall, but so much water splashed up, Tim couldn’t see who reached the wall first.
The results flashed up on the screen.
Isaac had won his third gold medal of the Games.
“Holy shit,” Tim said.
“Oh my God,” said Ginny.
Everyone in the audience buzzed. The woman Ginny thought was Isaac’s mom sobbed all over the woman beside her. Tim really hoped she wasn’t Isaac’s secret girlfriend or something. Then he shook that thought off; Isaac wasn’t Pat. He could trust him. The woman was probably his sister. And when she turned and looked back at Ginny, currently screaming her head off, Tim thought he could see a family resemblance.
That had been the last race of the night, so Tim bent down to grab his bag, but Ginny said, “Let’s stay for the medal ceremony and sing the national anthem like it’s a pop song.”
Tim thought it might be nice to see Isaac get his medal. His third medal this week. Jesus.
People filtered out of the stands as the athletes went to change and a crew set up the podium. The first medal was awarded for a women’s event, and then Isaac and the other medalists from the 100-meter breaststroke came out to raucous applause.
The ceremony itself seemed to drag. The athletes stood on the podium, chatting with each other while they waited for the medals to be carried out. Once the woman who held the medals on a tray arrived at the podium, each athlete in turn shook hands with the other winners, stepped up to his place, and received a handshake, his medal, some cheek kisses, and the little statuette of the Madrid mascot—a cartoony bull—they were handing out instead of flowers. So it took several minutes before Isaac even stepped up to the top of the podium to receive his medal. Then the flags were lowered, and the national anthem began, and Ginny, true to her word, belted out, “Oh say can you see?”
But Tim couldn’t take his eyes off Isaac. Isaac seemed somewhat overcome, his eyes a little red as he looked toward the flags, which happened to be lowered directly in front of where Tim sat. Isaac’s eyes searched the crowd below the flags and his gaze seemed to settle on his mother, who gave a little wave. Then Isaac looked up. And his gaze met Tim’s.
Isaac looked startled for a moment, but then his gaze locked on Tim, and they stared at each other through the rest of the anthem. By the time Ginny began to shout, “Oh say does that star-spangled banner yet wave!” Tim knew with certainty Isaac saw him there.
Tim also knew his destiny had just taken a left turn.
Because there was no way he was letting this man go when he flew back to the States.
“HALF THE dive team wound up in the audience tonight,” Luke said when Isaac walked back into the locker room.
“I noticed.” Isaac wanted to get to Tim more than he wanted to breathe. He’d packed up his bag before the medal ceremony, so he stopped now to fish his phone out of it, and then he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder.