By MegAngel...MegAngel25@aol.com
Date: 24 June 1999

He Wins...I Lose

He slices through the water, every stroke a powerful motion. I watch him in awe, urging him to success, rehearsing the now familiar movements in my mind. Lane four, dead center, each race without exception, I kneel next to the pool's edge, as if all my wishes for his success can somehow propel him foward. He is incredible, every motion an exercise in physical perfection. Watching him in the pool is the only time I can ever come close to recapturing my feelings for him. The only true commitment he has ever made was to swimming, I, of all people realize that. But for that reason I wish him success. The race is going well, he is only a few strokes behind the two leaders, just a few strokes. My head is pounding from yelling, but I can't stop till he takes that last pull.

He finishes the race in third place, which is exceptional. But better yet, he drops an unbelievable five seconds off his personal best time. I know exactly how exhilerated he feels. He couldn't have possibly done any more. I rush towards him, not taking the time to consider whether he wants me there or not. But his arms are open wide and I tackle him in the biggest hug possible. Nothing could be finer than this moment, because he knows I am nearly as excited as he is. Neither of us can stop grinning and for a second things feel so familiar.

She makes her presence known inching her way fowards until it is impossible not to know she is there. He drops his arms embarassed, and although I can't figure why he would be embarassed, I feel the same way. She smiles, but only politely, and offers her congratulations. But her words seem anticlimatic when compared to his performance. I know him so well, I celebrate beside him. She has no idea what he has accomplished, and for a moment I wish she did, just so he could be happy.

But he hurries into the dressing room. He had swum his last race for the afternoon. He comes out minutes later, looking irresistable in his trademark khakis and a dark green polo shirt. The scent of unfamiliar cologne reaches my nose. If I try hard enough, I can fool myself into believing he did this all for me. But he's smiling now, and the look in his eyes tells her all she needs to know, all she doesn't deserve.

I exit the nautetorium in tears, the aftermath of the race is always a letdown. For the few minutes he was in the water, he was mine again, which is why I am always there. Lane four, without exception.

Back to the Blender Digest