Lily nods, the movement slight but there. She pulls her goggles from her head and tosses them to the side and wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her sides as she stares at me.
“You can do this, Lily. We’ll do it together. You can finish,” I beg.
She nods, her eyes seeming more ready this time.
I will her not to look around the room anymore, slapping my palm on the water and pleading with her silently to let go of the fear. To ignore the pangs of judgement that aren’t there.
She leaps into the water feet first and paddles slowly toward me. I want to meet her halfway again to cut her distance, but I also know how she’ll feel if she makes it this far. Rather than moving forward, I kick my legs to swim away from her. She’s gaining on me, but she’s moving farther with every stroke.
“Come on, Lily!” A swimmer from Augustine has joined me, swimming next to Lily in her lane. Soon, the swimmer on the other side does the same, and three of them are heading my direction.
“We’re almost there,” I shout, kicking to get closer to the other side.
Lily catches up to me about a dozen feet from the pool’s edge, and she grabs my hand with hers but continues to claw through the water, ensuring we reach the side together. She grips the edge and pants, not from being tired but from enduring a panic attack while pushing through one of the toughest barriers in her life.
“You made it,” I whisper into her ear. I wrap an arm around her and cradle her head with my open palm, kissing her temple. “I’m so proud of you, Lily. You did it.”
Still breathing heavily, she turns her head slowly until our eyes meet.
“I want to finish,” she says, and the flash of determination returns to her eyes.
“I’ll go with you,” I offer, but she shakes her head.
“You already have,” she breathes out. Her body turning toward the open water, she looks at the twenty-five meters of water that stand between her and the other side. And then she’s off.
With every stroke her body breaks freer, her muscles working harder, feet kicking with more power, picking up speed. There isn’t a single swimmer not in sync with her. This has become about more than winning points in a swim meet. This is about lifting other people up. This is faith and kindness.
I pull myself up to the side of the pool and cheer from the edge. Morgan comes to sit beside me, and together we count each lap.
Four.
Five.
Six.
When she coasts away from me for her final twenty-five meters, the building is vibrating with a collective voice. I scramble to my feet and run to the other side so I can be there when her hand smacks the deck for the final time.The Affiliatephotographer kneels beside me when I get there, his camera whirring with a constant hammering of shots. Frame-by-frame, he captures Lily’s journey.
Her hand glides the final distance to the pool’s edge, and every competitor has pulled back, collectively conceding this race to her. Some things are more important.
I flatten myself on the deck and Lily reaches up and holds the sides of my head. I reach down to support her, lifting her enough to be able to press my lips to hers.
“I’m so proud of you,” I shout. Even this close, it’s hard to hear each other. The cheering inside the fieldhouse is deafening.
Lily drops her hands and rests them on the deck, laying her forehead on the backs of them to give herself a small moment of privacy before turning around and smacking the water with her open palm. She sends a small tidal wave across the water.
“Woo-hoo!” she shouts, and our friends all rush to the other side of the pool to raise their arms and scream along with her.
I get to my knees and when Lily turns again, I hold out my hand to help her out of the water. Morgan tosses her towel to her, but she wraps herself in me instead. Getting dry is useless. My clothes are soaked, and these jeans have fused to my legs.
The photographer snaps closeups of us as I praise her over and over, one hand behind her head, the other at her back. Nose-to-nose, we laugh near maniacally. Her eyes are spilling tears, her body shedding the stress that nearly toppled her. I kiss her forehead then rest mine on hers, never letting my arms leave her as she sobs in front of everybody.
“You did it, Lily,” I say.
“I finished, Theo. I finished.”
I nod, my head rolling against hers, our noses grazing.
“I fucking love you,” I say, part of me wishing I’d saved the word for this moment.