Love Untouched (Unexpected) (23 page)

Before she left the locker room after the showdown between Milo and I, she kissed me passionately, and I thought she was saying goodbye. So when she called, after three long hours, I answered on the first ring. Her voice was extremely sad, despondent and she said, “I’m outside your door.” I couldn’t get to my door fast enough to open it. She stood there, still in her blue and red shirt, jeans, and flip-flops, and when her eyes met mine, I knew without a doubt that she had meant what she told me before all the mess with Milo happened. She
loved
me. It was right there in her deep blue eyes, brimming with tears, her lips quivering, and her hands shaking at her sides. She was on my doorstep, and for the first time in my life, I found myself loved. A girl had chosen me for me. No conditions. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, and I drank my fill of her.

That night, I made love to her. What I could not say with words, I showed her with my body.
I loved her
. I didn’t love her because she loved me. I loved her because in spite of me, with every unspoken word and demand that I put on her, she had crept into my soul and made me love her. She didn’t need me to say it. Brynn didn’t ask anything of me. She just gave me herself and asked for nothing in return. I should have known that the first time when she invited me to have breakfast with her, it wasn’t just for breakfast; she was asking me to become a part of her life. Because Brynn didn’t do anything half-measuredly. She put in everything, gambled all of her winnings, never mind the losses, because her struggles have taught her that in order to live, she had to give it all. And now, she was giving it all to me. Despite her brother’s protests, risking her relationship with him after I put her on the spot, she was still with me. It was up to me to take care of that trust and love that she has shown me. Up to me to ensure that she and her brother would still have the type of relationship that they had before. I knew that as much as she loved me, she would not be whole without Milo, and I didn’t know if I could handle that. If I was to be a part of her world, her brother had to be, too. Because I knew how much she loved him, and I could not bear to see how much it would her hurt if he was not a part of her life.

Kieran had his five events in the bag. He won the 100-m butterfly, 200-m butterfly, 200-m freestyle, and 200 m-individual medley single-handedly, and the 4 x 200-m freestyle relay - an event that he and my brother had to win as a team. The tension between them could have sliced the pool in half, but they did their jobs and swam as a unit with the other two swimmers to win the gold. He has become one of the most decorated swimmers at this event. My brother was, too. Milo had two golds and a silver, in the 200-m backstroke, 4 x 200-m freestyle relay, and 200 m-freestyle.

I was so proud of Kieran and Milo. They were doing what they came for, excelling, and achieving their dreams, against the best of the best. The one thing that I wished for, hoped for, was for them to talk to each other, or for Milo to acknowledge Kieran was now a part of my life. But I guess that was why wishful thinking was called ‘wish’ful. It had no place in reality.

After what happened a few nights ago, Milo and I had barely talked. He was hurting. His pain was simmering below the surface. Two days ago, he knocked on my suite unexpectedly. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair disheveled and his clothes unkempt. My brother, the ultimate neat freak, was a mess. I couldn’t help myself. I opened my arms to him and embraced him. He looked so lost.

He asked, “Is he here?”

I replied, “No. He has finals today.”

He nodded his head and sat down on the couch. He turned on the TV, channel-surfed, and stopped on a sports channel. The 200-meter individual medley finals were live. Milo didn’t swim this event. His other teammates, Leif and Jarod, swam the event.

“Why aren’t you there, watching him?” He asked in a voice just loud enough for me to hear. As soon as I saw him sit down on the couch, I went into the mini-kitchen to start making him breakfast. Milo loved it when I cooked him breakfast. I stocked up on groceries since I knew that throughout this more than 2-week event, with eight days of swimming events, I would be cooking for him and Kieran. I had been bringing Kieran breakfast to his room before or after Milo left every day since we arrived here in Shanghai. What made it easy was that we were all staying in the same hotel. What made it harder was that we were all staying in the same hotel, so before the events of a few nights ago, I had to sneak into Kieran’s room every night. Ava had the good sense to suggest that I reserve a room on the same floor as Kieran’s, which was two floors down from Milo. Milo was rooming with Leif, so even if he had wanted me to share with him, he would not have offered because Leif took up a lot of room.

“He said you might stop by today,” I answered, holding the red mixing bowl with both of my hands while setting it atop the couch. The hotel room that I had reserved was like a mini-condo, complete with kitchen utensils, pots, and pans and was the perfect setting for me to make breakfasts for the two men that I loved. I was going to watch Kieran swim, but he had alluded that Milo might stop by because he didn’t have an event today. He must have checked my brother’s events somewhere to know.

Milo muted the TV. On the screen, Kieran was now swimming the last ten meters of the 200-m event. I was going to watch it by myself before Milo came in. I saw Kieran reach the wall, and as he always did, he pressed his right hand to his nose, blowing out water, and then looked up at the electronic scoreboard. He then raised his right arm up in the air and looked towards the stands. Today, his parents had arrived so he knew they were there. Zander and Sedona were also there, along with Duncan and Peter.

I smiled when the camera zoomed in on Kieran’s face. He looked so happy.
My guy
. He was doing what he did best, performing at the highest level.

Milo didn’t react to Kieran’s win, he merely stated, “Good race. Where’s breakfast?”

He turned the TV off, bent his knees to grab the juice from the refrigerator, and grabbed two glasses that were on the drying rack by the sink.

“Almost done,” I said, pouring the pancake mix into the heated pan.

After requesting I make omelets as well, he walked back to the couch, judging the kitchen table to be too small for his own liking, with a glass of orange juice in his right hand. He has not said anything about Kieran and me, not a word aside from the small commentary about me watching Kieran swim. I eyed him from time to time. He scrolled through his phone, and when I told him that it was time to eat, he lazily walked to a chair and started eating. Again, he was quiet. Milo was never quiet,
especially
with me.

I ate slowly and chewed my food ten times longer than I normally did. My appetite was fading.

He was on his second omelet when he lifted his eyes from his plate, and said, “I love you Bee.”

I started crying, I couldn’t help it. Across the tiny table, he picked up a napkin and gave it to me.

He continued, “I only want the best for you...”

Of course he did. He saved the last piece of the pizza for me. He made sure I had new shoes, before he did, every time the new school year came. He convinced our Aunt Margie to buy me the latest Kitchen Aid mixer when I was 14. Our Aunt Margie hesitated because of the price, but Milo contributed money that he had saved to pay for it because I saw it on TV and I wanted it. When I went to college, he looked through pages and pages of apartments to ensure that I was safe, and even when Ava’s parents vouched for it, Milo had stayed a week after Ava and I had moved in to check out the area.

“I know.” The tears had stopped falling from my eyes, but my heart was heavy with unvoiced emotions.

He finished eating and when he stood up, I excused myself to go to the bathroom to clean the mess that I’d made of my face.

Before I turned around, he reached for me and hugged me. “Bee, remember that … I only want the best for you.”

His words left me bereft of speech again. I stayed in his hug, and when he finally let go, I almost ran to the bathroom. Once I reached the door, I cried. I cried for my brother who was unhappy with me. For Kieran who couldn’t tell me he loved me. For myself, because I was torn apart. For everything that was going on, all because I loved a man who ripped my brother’s heart into shreds. As Ava had said last night, while we talked on the phone since she was in Paris attending some family business-related event, “How Shakespearean could your life get?” She was right. I just prayed that it didn’t end like any Shakespearean story—in tragedy.

“I dream of having a Sweet 16 party.”

~ R.W., age 15, liver transplant

Tonight was the night.

Finals.

The best of the best. Fighting, swimming for another gold.

The thing with swimmers is that they do not get a lot of respect.

At least, that is what I think.

When we were in grade school, kids constantly teased my brother that he was “not a real athlete” or called him “merman” or “gay.” Needless to say, the perpetrators didn’t survive the day without getting a face-to-fist lesson with my brother.

I knew firsthand the supreme athleticism and devotion of the swimmers who were now lined up on the starting block: from my brother, who I had personally witnessed throughout the years, his friends, who I had the pleasure of being acquainted with, and to Kieran.

Kieran was on Lane 5, Milo on Lane 4, Leif on Lane 6, and the other guys? I thought one was from Australia, another from Italy, and the last ones I had no clue. Leif and Milo were chatting while Kieran tugged on his headphones. He liked to listen to music while waiting for the race to start. When I asked him what he listened to, he told me that he liked Beethoven and Mozart. I gave him an incredulous look and he shrugged his shoulders and said, “They calm me down.” Like he needed any more calming down. I told him that he looked calm and relaxed before he raced. He looked at me, and replied, “I am calm. In my head, I am visualizing how the race is going to progress. What I’m going to do when I come off the turn, how many turns I have to do, depending on the number of laps I have to complete. Brynn, my still point is in the water. There is adrenaline, of course, then there is anticipation, but believe me, when I am competing against the best, I am at my calmest. I dig deep inside myself and I know how to win. Just how much to push myself.”

Swimmers relied on their own skills. Unlike in football where a quarterback could throw or run the ball, there was no ball to be thrown in swimming, only your body. You had no helmets or protective gear. No offensive line was there to protect you. Your body was your shield. No one was going to look after you but yourself. Basically, your own body and your skills, after months and years of training, brought you to the top or the bottom of the pack. There was an immeasurable amount of self-reliance, and confidence that you would be faster than the other person, that you could break records, World or Olympic. You had no time to look up at a scoreboard to see how fast you’re up or how slow you’re behind another swimmer. The only score that mattered was the final time,
the final score
.

Maybe that was what made Kieran one of the world’s best. He had the natural ability to block out everything else around him, and he compared himself to himself. Mentally, he was one of the toughest people I knew. There was a lot of pressure around him, a lot of media hoopla that surrounded him; but he took it all in stride. He remained true to his values, tried to keep his privacy, and didn’t feed in to the hype that came with his status as the country’s number one swimmer. He did things because it came from his heart.