March 22, 2002
Something Meghan learned over the years was that for her, swimming was very much a subconscious activity. When she dove into the pool, her limbs did the thinking while her brain took a back seat. By now, she was so used to doing it that she could go for hours without any noticeable slowdown. She moved with robotic precision while retaining organic fluidity; stroke after stroke nailed to perfection.
Dad was right, the water really is the best therapist.
In the pool she had no worries – no homework, no nagging relatives, no immature boys trying for her attention. It was just her and the cool water. The pool was her domain. Seventy laps, and the week's stress melted into the chlorine.
Medals and trophies of varying sizes cluttered her bedroom, to the point where she'd asked her mother and father to get a display case solely for them. Being the exceptionally proud type, they did just that without a second thought.
After years on the swim team, Meghan could compete with nearly anyone. She could dive in cleanly and cleave the water with powerful, rhythmic strokes until she reached the other end, all with abnormal regularity.
She knew kids her age were typically hyper competitive, but she wanted so much to be special, to outshine her peers in every way. With each therapy session, she came closer to that point. She had to be perfect. She had to be. Anything less would be unacceptable.
A whistle blew as Meghan touched the wall. She straightened out and hooked her arms to the top, looking up at the coach.
He had his arms crossed, his mouth tugging upwards in a proud smile.
Meghan lifted the goggles and wiped the water from her face, breathing deeply. "How'd I do, coach?"
He lifted a hand to stroke his invisible beard. "I dunno, Meg, I think you might be getting slow in your old age!"
She rolled her eyes. "Very funny. You know, Coach Jackson, I think you might be a better philosopher than comedian!"
He raised his hands. "To live is to suffer, to survive!... is to find some meaning in the suffering."
Slow clap. "If you start quoting Beyond Good and Evil, I'm quitting the team."
Jackson raised his hands. "I'm stopping, I'm stopping."
"Good. Now, are you gonna tell me how I did?"
He turned the stopwatch. "See for yourself."
She lifted her body up to squint at the tiny screen.
A new record.
"Hell yeah!" She leapt, backstroking across the length of the pool.
Jackson watched her celebrate, his best pupil riding high on an energy so contagious he couldn't help but dance.
Meghan struggled to find a word to describe the feeling she was experiencing, but didn't care to find one enough to stress about it.
She hopped and dove through the water like a frolicking dolphin in celebration of life. The water celebrated with her, curving around her body and lifting her each time she jumped.
She swam to the edge of the pool and launched herself from the water, legs still pumping as she bounced in place.
"I'm gonna smoke the competition! No way I'll lose with these times!"
Jackson smirked, hands on his hips as he walked to black machine sitting along the wall.
Meghan tilted her head, face twisting. A shiver wracked her body, adrenaline wearing off just enough for her to notice the cool air in the room. The coach tossed a heated towel from the machine, chuckling as it landed on Meghan's head.
She wasn't in a position to complain, and wrapped it around as much of her body as she could. She sat down on the bench next to the towel heater, Jackson taking his place beside her.
"You know something, Meg, every now and again it hits me just how special you are." He held up a hand as she looked at him with knitted brows. "Hang on, hang on, I'm not getting weird on ya."
He looked around the pool gym, gaze resting on playoff and championship banners, equipment, team photos.
"From the day you walked in here, you gave one hundred and ten percent. Not only have you been doing everything I ask of you, you've been practicing outside standard times, breaking school records, helping your teammates better themselves…"
He trailed off. Meghan elected not to speak, focus directed entirely on her coach.
"My point is, it's been extremely refreshing to coach someone so dedicated to team victory as you are. No challenge has been too great, no training has been 'not worth your time,' no issue with me or your team has been a hassle."
Her jaw hung open slightly before she found the words. "Not that I don't appreciate the praise, coach, but why now? What made you decide to say these things now, rather than when I graduate?"
He clicked his tongue. "Because I wanted to bring up something to you."
She shot him a wry smile and narrowed her eyes. "Sounds pretty ominous, Coach J. You skipping town?"
"Heh, not just yet. I've got a couple years left in the tank. The something is about you."
Meghan tilted her head. "Me? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, no, quite the opposite. Meghan, how far do you plan to go with your swimming?"
She looked out over the water, irises bouncing as they tracked the rippling waves. Swallowing hard, Meghan scratched at her cheek. "I'm… not sure. I haven't put a lot of thought into it." Her head swiveled to stare at the coach, "That must sound pretty weird coming from me, huh?"
He snorted at the question. "Only if everyone else in the world is just as weird."
Meghan's lips pursed, tightening as her brow raised and drew together. "Where are you going with this, Coach?"
He didn't immediately answer. Jackson stood up, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked to the water's edge. He tossed a look over his shoulder.
"I believe you should think about going pro. I don't mean just to the interstate level, I'm talking Olympics."
Meghan gaped at him, floundering for words to address his proclamation. Her breathing became uneven; shallow inhales, shuddering exhales. "I-I… I don't understand, how can you think I'm that good?! I'm in high school, Coach J, that's way beyond what I've ever thought of!"
He grabbed her shoulders. "Meghan, listen to me. From the moment you first came in here and tried out for the team, you've been nothing short of incredible. You've never let anything keep you back, and put forth a winning effort the likes of which I haven't seen in a long time at the grade school level."
Jackson pointed up at one of the championship banners. "Your work ethic, performance, hypercompetitive attitude, and selfless nature are at least as good as that of all of those names you see up there."
Meghan's mind was drowning. Her eyes flicked left and right as she stammered, searching for something, anything, to throw her a life preserver. Jackson took the hint.
"When I was a member of the team for States at UC Berkeley, I was among the best male and female swimmers in the state. You know what our times were for the very same exercises you just did today?"
She dumbly shook her head.
"Twenty eight seconds slowerthan what you just clocked. I'm not embellishing even a little bit when I say that your ability and drive are remarkable. Plus, you take every extra step to better your teammates. I don't know the last time I've had such a well-rounded swimmer on my roster."
Meghan rubbed her shoulder, before pressing her palms together in front of her mouth. "I don't really know what to say, Coach, other than… well, thank you for thinking so highly of me. I try my best to make this a good time for everyone, but I had no idea that it was this special for you…"
He smiled. "I don't expect you to have all of this figured out right now, or even in the near future. I'm just suggesting that you can be great. You've made my job a hell of a lot more enjoyable since you joined, and if you want, I'll do everything in my power to help you reach whatever heights you want to."
She stared at the floor, eyes tracing the tile pattern. She absentmindedly wrung her hands together, skin turning red from the force.
"Take some time to think about it, Meg, this is a big-"
She slapped her thigh, the echo bouncing off the walls. "I'll do it."
He startled back. "Oh?"
"I know I have skill, and you're willing to go so far to encourage me to dream bigger. It would be stupid of me to ignore both."
Jackson pumped his fist. "Hell yeah, Meghan! I'm so proud of you. We're gonna turn you into a goddamned star!"
Meghan's brows curled downwards, a devilish grin taking hold of her features, teeth bared on one side. She cracked her knuckles. "So, where do we start?"