Girls With Luv

FIVE Liya

"Totally. So, to hell with your agency." The way she says it makes me crack up. My mom would've shoved me into a corner for a long moment of self-introspection. Of course money matters. How can you say something so stupid?! That's what you get for picking sports over academics, little child.

"You really think so?" I ask in a baby's squeak. She knows what the person in front of her wants to hear, and she bloody lets them have it. This woman doesn't believe in the concept of tough love and I admire her for it.

"Of course! It's your life, your career, your sport. If you need the agency, keep it. If you don't, let them go. Don't believe that the decision is not in your hands, because it is. Once you realise that, nothing will seem as difficult as it did a while ago."

I know that I will keep thinking about what Mrs G said for a very long time.

* * *

There isn't much that I can say when my coach suddenly decides to send me on a guilt trip for not keeping my sport number one on my priority list. So, according to him, I should give my life and freedom to swimming because apparently, it has made me who I am today. His words, not mine. Whenever he begins with his well-learned glorification of sincerity towards work, I tune out and simply stare at the ground so that he misunderstands my lack of focus for utter shame. I seriously prefer misunderstanding over explanation simply because it's too much work and I'd rather save my energy for something more productive than repeatedly telling a bottlehead my side of the story. Let's face it, it's not like he'll suddenly understand and empathize with me once I do say something to counter his preposterous assumptions.

"Liya, you are losing focus and it's reflecting in your game. What are you gonna do about it?" Coach Mitchel and the nerve popping out of his forehead gape holes into my face and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. If I squint harder, he'll probably resemble a comic book caricature that never made any sales.

"I don't know, you tell me."

"What kind of a response is that?"

"I mean, you're probably gonna humiliate me further if I say anything that doesn't reciprocate your preconceptions. So, you might as well save me the trouble and tell me what you want."

I am beyond pissed with this man and the agency he hired. Don't get me wrong, I respect him and it's true that he helped me gain the practice and the recognition I have today. But, he's too driven by materialistic aspirations, which I'm not okay with, and he does nothing to even slightly alter it. I am a girl who is utterly tired of being reminded of the value of a good name, which overshadows my eternal love for the sport. Do you see what I'm saying? He is completely changing the trajectory.

"No, you tell me what you want."

Man, you are not ready for that conversation.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Yes, I am. Because clearly, your game is just a distraction to you now. S.O.S calls from your friends are number one on your priority list. So, I want to know what is going on inside that head of yours."

Okay, that's it.

"You wanna know what's happening inside my head? I'm practically throwing you out of my life by firing you. Right now. In my head. I'm freaking sick of how you're ruining swimming for me by simply existing as my coach. You don't let me enjoy it, it's all about the publicity, the ranking, the mindless winning regardless of what I actually want... And I don't even say anything to you because I know it's important to you! Even then, somehow I'm the one who's at fault. I'm the one who is making a mockery of the sport. Do you bloody see the irony here?!" I take a deep breath to calm down. Seriously, the last few days have been me losing my shit and begging for a break. "You asked me what I want? I'll tell you what I need. I need a break. I need to get myself out of this mess before it takes a toll on me. I need to step back and rest before my body gives up. But will you entertain this request for even a millisecond?! NO! Obviously not! So, why do you even ask?"