What We Take Away

Chapter 25 | Zac

January 24th, 2006

The gulls caw joyfully overhead. I can taste the salt in the air as I clutch Dad's pants, watching the bow bob up and down as he steers deftly away from the coast. I wear an orange life vest that makes me feel warm and secure, but it's Dad's calm and steady presence that really helps me to know I am safe. He sets me in between his arms, letting me steer the boat with him. I hesitantly touch the wheel, my hands ten sizes smaller than Dad's strong ones.

"Let's go see what's beyond the line," Dad grins.

I clutch the wheel with excitement; whatever is up ahead is bound to be an adventure because Dad is by my side...

My alarm beeps, stirring me from sleep.

I exhale with my eyes closed, not wanting to lose the feeling of being little again and riding in a boat with Dad. But the harder I try to grasp the feel of the ocean air and Dad's arms around me, the more the image slips away.

Please, I beg. Please don't go. I don't want to wake up...

When I open my eyes, the dream vanishes. Dad isn't here, and I'm alone.

The room is shrouded in darkness. Reaching over, I shut off my alarm and flop back into bed. I don't want to get out of bed today. I don't want to do anything at all. In fact, all I want to do today is to lay here and sleep and dream about being a kid again... but that won't change a single thing.

With tremendous effort, I force myself to sit up. The prospect of going to train at the gym knowing that our team is getting cut sickens me to my stomach. But years of discipline prevents me from deviating from my routine. It's cruel, really. Even though my pole-vaulting career is ending, I still need to show up to practice and be a good goddamn sport. When I think about it, I don't feel much different than a prized hog being led to slaughter – my fate has already been decided by the powers that be, and I am just along for the ride.

Eventhough my body aches with numbing grief, I gather my gear and slip out thedoor.

---

"Come on," Jesse hisses. "You can DO this!"

Tired, I lean against my pole and glower at him.

"Why are we even doing this anymore? There's no point. Coach said so himself – we're done."

Jesse walks over to me, looking weary.

"Zac. Pull it together. It's not over yet," he says with steel in his voice. "You need to focus on the now. The New York Winter Classic is right around the corner, and we're going against Albany. We need you."

A bitter laugh escapes my mouth.

"You don't get it," I spit. "The team is getting cut at the end of your track career. You had four years to jump. FOUR YEARS. But guys like me and Kyle, and my friends Andre and Sam, we just got here – and it's over for us. It was over before it even started! Open your eyes and look around!"

I gesture wildly around to the fieldhouse. Ever since we returned from our meet at UConn, the energy on the team has been lacking and our morale low. Coach Dillon tries to soldier on like always, but we all notice when he steps away for moments at a time to collect his emotions. Coach Mackey's running drills aren't as intense, and Coach Friedman is more nurturing, which is somehow more terrifying.

"None of us know what we're doing anymore," I exclaim. "You can drop the whole, better-than-thou act. You don't need to pretend."

Without waiting to hear Jesse's response, I take off running again. But my heart's not in it today – and instead of swinging up and jumping over the bungee, I decide last minute not to jump and sail onto the mat. I glance up quickly to see if Coach Dillon saw but his back is turned, and his attention is elsewhere.