“You’re not going back home after, are you?”
I shake my head. It’s too expensive to be continually flying to and from America. My dad does fine as a police officer, but not well enough to fund me taking multiple transatlantic flights per year. The silver lining is that I can get a job on campus and do some house hunting. Seb, AJ, Austin and I are planning on finding somewhere together and at least I can scout out some options for us.
It’s also more time training with Coach Miller. He’s amazing. Even in a few months, he’s completely changed my approach to dryland training and how I think about the technical aspects of the races.
“Well, it’ll be fun to finally meet her.” Austin grins at me. “The famous Kath.”
I elbow him. “You’d all better be on your best behaviour when shearrives,” I grumble.
“As if I would be anything other than the perfect gentleman,” he says. “It’s AJ you need to worry about. That guy doesn’t know which thoughts aren’t meant to leave his head.”
He’s right. AJ’s a loose cannon. Living with him next year might be an interesting experience.
Our training session is technical enough that it forces me to focus on the pool rather than Kath’s upcoming stay. I love the burn I get in my muscles when I push myself on a sprint. The satisfying feeling of looking at your stopwatch and knowing you’ve done a good job. Unlike so many things in life, it’s quantifiable.
Coach Miller waves me over after we finish. “Your underwaters are looking smoother. How are they feeling?” I try to towel dry my hair so it doesn’t drip onto his feet.
“They feel better,” I tell him. “Austin gave me some tips too, stuff about having more power in my hips; it was really helpful.”
“You guys are gelling well.” He nods. “I like to see the team getting along.”
I smile. It’s true. After a few months here I no longer feel like an outsider. I like the guys on the team. I like the courses. I even like the Florida weather. The only thing I miss is my dad, my friends from home and Crunchie. And, of course, Kath. Always Kath.
“Still feels like a bit of a culture shock some days,” I tell him.
He grins. “I wanted to talk to you about something else. I was thinking of putting you in the breaststroke leg of the next relay race. You need to improve that stroke for your IM.”
I gulp. I know he’s right, but it’s one thing doing breaststroke at school swimming galas in the UK and quite another doing it on a university team.
“Come to one of the specialised training sessions with Austin,” he continues, ignoring my discomfort. “I think it’ll be the push you need to really focus on it. And then I’m sure you’ll start seeing the difference in the IM.”
“Sounds good.” I swallow my nerves.
“See you tomorrow… Oh and Sam. Make sure you stretch out that shoulder.”
He always knows. I don’t know how he managed to spot that my shoulder twinged slightly on those last few laps. I barely noticed it myself.
I finish stretching and then attempt to study with Seb and Austin. But after a few hours of scratching our heads over the assigned reading I decide that my concentration is shot. Instead of reading the next chapter in the textbook I duck out to call Kath.
“Hey, how are you?” Kath’s voice comes through the speakers.
“Good.”
The phone’s on my bed and I wander around straightening things in my room. Though there isn’t much to tidy. My half of the room is tightly tucked sheets and neatly stacked books, whilst Austin’s side is chaotic piles of protein bars and lonely socks on the floor.
I sigh and pick up some of his pens that have fallen off the desk before turning back to my phone. It’s mid-afternoon for me, but evening for her. The time we usually call.
“How was training?” Kath asks.
I launch into the new plan for me to swim the breaststroke leg at the next meet, knowing that she’ll get it. That she’ll understand that part of me wants to do it, because I’m desperate to improve, but that another part of me is nervous I’ll let everyone down. She listens to me ramble and then points out that Coach Miller wants to win championships, so he obviously trusts my breaststroke enough. Or he trusts that I’ll push myself to get better.
Our conversation flits between lectures, friends from home, her parents, the dog, a film she watched recently.
“Crap.” I look at my watch. “I said I’d go to the cafeteria with Austin soon.”
As if on cue, he knocks on the door and pushes his way in.
“Hi, Kath.” He smirks at me when he sees my phone is on speaker. He doesn’t even need to ask who I’m calling.