A Matter Of Heart

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I can't breathe.
There's no time.
All around the pool, coaches yell and pace along the edge as if that'll make us swim faster. Parents shout out names. I don't hear which ones. In the water, its a different kind of sound. The whoosh and thrum of the surface breaking over my cap. The churn of arms and the fizz of an exhale. The chant of pull, pull that I repeat in time with the bmm bmm of my heart.
Mostly, I just hear the scream of my burning lungs.
I don't listen.
In the last leg of a 100 free, there's no time for breathing. Not if you want to win.
Pull, pull.
Twenty-five years left. That's it. Almost in reach. Everything I want is almost within reach.
Pull, pull.
Through the bubbles and froth i glimpse the rising beauty of the wall. I'm not breathing. Just pushing. Reaching.
Pull, pull-
My arms stretch, my fingertips search for the pebbly surface. There! Yes!
I explode out of the water, my mouth wide as I gasp, dragging air into my clenched lungs.
I grab hold of the wall and turn toward the scoreboard. I rip off my goggles. My eyes, blurred and achy, stare. There's my name: S. Lipman, lane 4. Was it enough? Was I enough?
"Nice finish, Lipman!" It's Coach somewhere behind me, moving down the lanes. I hear him call to Alicia, another Horizon swimmer, lane 6.
I drink the air and will the scoreboard to show the results I want. It took so much to get here. Months of two-two-a-day practices of pushing myself so hard there were morning i couldn't life my arm to wash my air. All of it for one moment in time- literally. Fifty- eight seconds. Maybe fifty-seven.
The board flashes red. Times appear, along with finishing places.
Yes! First place, a school record, and my personal best- 57:56. Olympic qualifying time will be around 57:19.
My hand shoots up in a fist pump. Water splashes over my face and I blink my lashes clean as I smile because I don't have the air to laugh.
A shadow suddenly blocks the sun and I look up to see Connor grinning at me. He squats at the edge of the pool and riches out a head. I grab hold and he lifts me out like im six instead of sixteen. Which is okay, because I felt like jumping up add down like a two-year-old.
"Freakin' awesome, Sammy!"
His grin dips to one side and its so sexy--- still sexy. I'll never stop getting jelly knees every time Connor Moore grins at me like that.
I grin back. I don't know what to say. I'm so happy, I cant find the words to express it. Maybe there aren't any.
He grabs me and lifts me into a hug. I hold on and let the happiness fill me. Deep-from-the-core happiness that finally brings up a laugh from lungs that have stretched themselves pain and victory and now just wont to let loose and celebrate.
Connor sets me down. I pull old my swim cap, shaking my dark hair out until I feel cold, wet, and heavy on my shoulders. Connor's hair is almost dry now from his earlier warm-up, still dark by the top up of his ears but sun-bleached blond everywhere else. He's wearing his team Speedy quit and he's tanned and gorgeous. And mine.
"Knew you'd do it, Sam."
I laugh again, but a man in a polo shirt with a white whistle around his neck moves past us and catches my eye. " Off the deck."
My race was over and there's a schedule to keep. I nod and squeeze Connor's hand before letting go. From the corner of my eye, I could see my dad. He's hanging on the fence, waiting. Impatient, I know. For years, he was the one I ran to and hugged. The one who lifted me and spin me around. As if about five weeks ago, its been Ryan. Dad isn't used to it yet. Me neither, maybe cause it still feels like a dream.
I past with Connor at the gate. "You better get ready," I said to him. I gesture toward the warm-up area, where the other guys who swim the 100free are loosening up. Alec Mendoza is staring our way. He's a senior, like Connor , and even since Alec transferred to Horizon High this year, they've been jockeying for two and one on a team. There's something else going on there, but I don't know what. I don't ask.
"Kick some butt out there," I tell Connor.
"You know it," he says. "Then tonight, you and I are celebrating." His words could mean anything, but the look in his eyes tells me exactly what he is thinking.
My stomach does a flip turn. "Just get out there and swim," I say. "This one is yours."
He nods. Connor's best events are the 500 and the 100 free. He's a great sprinter. Not quite fast enough for the Olympics, but, second place in State last year as a junior. This year he's had some bad luck. For pneumonia early in the season and missed a full week and a meet. His times dropped, but not as much as I would have expected. Its only the second week of October and he's already back in the game and looking for a personal best. Maybe today. But even if it doesn't happen, he's already qualified for State.
The State meet will be amazing, but I'm after a bigger prize. My fingers twitch a little, as if they're straining now for that huge imaginary wall that says Olympics.
I turn and head for my dad. The sun is hot on my shoulders, and bright enough to make me squint. Its a little toasty, even for Phoenix , but at least the mornings and nights have started to cool off. Dad has edged back from the crowd and found a shady spot by the building so we CBS have a little piracy. He waits until I reach him, and then his arms are around me. His words are warm in my ear. "You're only half a second off the qualifying time." there's pride in his voice, and the sound of it runs down my spine, raising goose bumps like a standing ovation.
"You know what that means?" he asked. "You can qualify at State this year. That's three weeks, Sam. Were that close." He pulls back, a frown on his face as his hands rub my arm. "You're shaking, honey. You cold? Where's your towel?"
"I'm not cold," I say. "I think I'm in shock." I take a breath. I'm still recovering, maybe, because my lungs feel too tight.
Dad looks back at the stopwatch in his hand and shakes his head. I know He's itching to gel home and plot this on the chart in his office. Its gigantic, the chart. On it he's got all my times from every major event meet since freshmen year. This year, he added a side panel with qualifying times of the other sophomores across the country. This side panel isn't about charting my personal best. Its about being the best.
About winning Olympic gold.
Maybe I am cold. I shiver again. I look into dad's eyes- a deep olive green, same as mine. And I think, no, I'm just happy. Dad was a world-class backstroke. He would have been where I am if he hadn't broke his collarbone in a freak accident his senior year of high school. He never got the chance, but nothing will get in the way. I'm going to win gold for both of us.
Dads eyes are shiny. He's not a crier. He's more the tough guy- work hard and don't whine. But this wasn't just any race. We both knew I needed to drop time if I'm going to have any hope.
"You did it," he says. "You're there, Sam. You keep training and you're one swim away from invitation to the United States Olympic team trial." He shakes his head, almost as if he can't believe the words himself.
I feel dizzy. Because of his words, maybe. The way his head is still moving. The way there's cold creeping up on my neck and making my head feel numb.
Dizzy.
I suck in a breath. My heart pushes against my ribs. My lungs still ache. I want to smile at dad. This is amazing. Life is amazing. First place. Trials. Connor.
Smile, Samantha. Smile with dad.
Only, now dad isn't smiling either. He looks dizzy. No- wait. He looks worried. I'm the one who's dizzy.
Something.
Is wrong.
I cant breathe.