into my room.
“What do you think?” I asked, picking a piece of foil from my hair.
She did her best not to laugh. “You know, I think it’ll help if you shower. Maybe the hair will settle into place.”
“That makes no sense,” I argued.
“Okay, she was trying to be polite. You should actually shower because I can smell you from out here!” Kinsley yelled from the living room.
It was easy for them to go on with their lives. They were still playing in the Olympics, their lives progressing like movies. I was now a glorified equipment manager. Coach Decker had already emailed me a new, personal itinerary: 9:00 AM breakfast, 10:00 AM appointment with the trainer, 11:00 AM physical therapy, 12:00 PM lunch, 1:00 PM join team for afternoon meeting, 3:00 PM physical therapy, etc.
I planned on ignoring most of her orders. Instead, my itinerary would include the following: 9:00 AM sit on bed/general wallowing, 10:00 AM roll myself up in sheets and pretend I’m a mummy, 11:00 AM eat peanut butter from jar with fingers, 12:00 PM pick peanut butter out of greasy hair, 1:00 PM roll myself up in sheets and pretend I’m a Chipotle burrito, 3:00 PM throw myself in front of a moving bus.
“Okay, this is enough,” Kinsley said, hitting the frame of my door with her hand so that I jumped. “You are going to get up and you are going to shower and you are going to come down to the food court with us. You need a decent meal.”
I crossed my arms like a petulant child. “Go away.”
She shook her head. “No. Let’s go. I’ll bet Freddie is down there and he’ll be so happy to see you. He’s been trying to get in touch with you all day.”
I glanced around for my cell phone. “Wait, where’s my phone?”
“In the living room. You threw it out there when your mom tried to call.”
Oh.
“You really think he’ll be down there?” I asked, suddenly desperate to see him. Did he know about the injury?
She nodded. “Maybe. Go shower and we’ll wait for you.”
I pushed off my bed and slid into the shower—yes, slid. I couldn’t stand and I didn’t feel like taking a bath. So instead, I turned the faucet to the hottest setting, sat at the end of the stream of scalding water, and let it beat down on me from above. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there before Kinsley yanked the shower curtain aside and pulled me out.
“I get that you’re drunk and injured, and I love you—but this is too much,” she said, throwing a towel at me. “I just saw your entire vagina.”
I smiled, drunk with self-pity. “Pretty good, right?”
I TRIED TO pull myself together after that. I mean, I couldn’t brush my hair or put makeup on, but I threw my chopped hair into a passable ponytail and pulled on a pair of mismatched sweats. The alcohol had numbed the pain from my wrist, but I still cradled it in my other hand as Kinsley and Becca led the way to the elevators.
“Do you want to tell us about last night? To get your mind off today?”
I glanced over to take in Kinsley’s gentle smile.
“We know you and Freddie have been sneaking around. You can tell us about it. We promise not to judge.”
A slow, easy smile spread across my face before I could help it. That was the silver lining in all of this. Sure, I’d traveled all the way to Rio to win gold, and in the matter of one morning, that dream was gone. Finished.
But then I thought of Freddie, of how I would never have met him had I not traveled to Rio. Even if I wasn’t going back to the U.S. with an earned medal, there was a good chance I’d return with a boyfriend—a super hot, super British boyfriend. Definitely better than nothing.
The elevator arrived on the first floor and we walked out into the lobby. I turned to Kinsley and Becca, trying to decide where to start. From the beginning? There was so much ground to cover and I couldn’t wait to fill them in on all the juicy details, but something caught my attention in front of the complex before I could start. Right past the glass lobby doors, Freddie stood watching a limo roll to a stop near the curb. His back was to me, but I knew it was him. After the night before, I knew that body well