“I think it’s very important, but when it happened, nobody knew about Greg being gay or HIV-positive.”
“Yeah. But, like, they also didn’t talk at all about the antigay stuff in Russia during the Sochi Games or the pollution in Rio or any of that. We both know there’s a lot of bullshit the public doesn’t see. To read this account, everything having to do with the Olympics and its host cities has always been on the up-and-up.”
“Of course.”
Isaac put the book aside. “God, I’m glad to see you.”
Tim smiled. He felt tired. After the medal ceremony, his family and most of the USA Diving staff had taken him out to dinner; then he’d had to put in some requisite time with the divers partying at America House. He’d been about to succumb to postcompetition fatigue when Pat had shown up.
“Did you party?” Isaac asked, pulling Tim into his arms.
“Yeah, a little.” Not at all, because Pat had insisted on speaking to Tim. And Tim didn’t know how to tell Isaac about that conversation. He knew he needed to. He had no idea what to say.
“Did you drink?”
“No. Too much sugar.” The answer was automatic—Tim didn’t drink during competition because alcoholic drinks had many unnecessary calories—but the enormity of the question hit him after he spoke. “Would it have been a problem if I had?”
“No,” Isaac said. “I’m not quite strong enough to be out where people are drinking a lot in front of me. But I don’t care if you drink.”
“Is that why you keep skipping parties with your teammates?”
“Yeah, but I also would prefer to spend time with you.”
Tim smiled and sank into Isaac’s arms. Isaac was warm, and he wore a soft T-shirt and sweatpants. Tim loved sinking into this comfortable space with him. He laid his head on Isaac’s shoulder and snuggled up close. “My parents talked about you a lot during dinner. Meeting you was the second-most-exciting thing that happened to them today.”
Isaac laughed. “I hope their son winning an Olympic medal was the first.”
“Yeah. It’s going to make telling them we’re together especially interesting. I guess that can wait until after the platform final.”
Tim yawned. God, he was tired. He completely understood all those nights Isaac had fallen asleep before they’d gotten the opportunity to fool around much. Now that he was here, in Isaac’s arms, surrounded by his scent and his warmth, Tim could easily close his eyes and sink into sleep.
“Seriously, though,” Isaac said. “Are you okay? You looked upset after the last dive.”
No. Things were not okay. But how to explain?
“It just…. Everything kind of hit me all at once. Like I’d been holding in all my emotions through the whole competition, and when we got to the end, I didn’t have the strength to hold them in anymore.” Tim paused to think about how to express what he felt. “First, I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter whether I won or lost because I wanted to defend my platform title more. Springboard isn’t my specialty, so making the final felt like a fluke. But I dove well today—really well. I guess I didn’t know how much I wanted that medal until it ended, and then I was…. I felt so disappointed. I kept second-guessing myself. Like, if I’d had more faith, I could have done better. If I’d taken the competition more seriously, I could have at least beat Perez. I’ve beaten Perez a dozen times before. But he was good today, and I was less than perfect, and….” The tears came then; everything Tim had been holding on to all day leaked out and ran down his cheeks. “I was disappointed. In myself more than anything.”
Isaac gave Tim a little squeeze. “You realize that you’re still the third-best springboard diver in the whole goddamn world, right?”
“I know!” Tim felt his grip on his temper, on everything he felt, slipping away. He didn’t want to yell at Isaac, but he felt so irritated and frustrated. “And I felt bad for feeling bad that I only won a bronze. I mean, I won an Olympic medal. I won my second Olympic medal in a week. And the gold was totally out of my grasp because Wao killed it today. I have it in me to dive like that on my best days, but I’m rarely that perfect in competition, and I just…. I don’t know. Like I said, I’m disappointed in myself. I could have