“Just more papers.”
He shrugs, his mouth shut tight. His eyes dare mine for a few seconds, a half smile plays out on his lips, and I feel questions swirling around my head. This estate should have been settled four years ago. Even things that could come up—the unexpected, like debts—would be dealt with by now. Four tax cycles have passed. Either something else has gone wrong with it, like maybe Will drained it all in a few short years, partying hard and driving fast, or he’s not dealing with his family’s estate at all. He’s dealing with—or doing—something else. And if his recent past is any indication, those other things aren’t going to be good for his swimming, and the risk is also there for my father and this club.
“Papers,” I repeat the word, “or…whatever.”
His eyes flair a touch, so I hold his stare long enough to force him to respond. He takes a deep breath and backs away a step from my car, a slight shake to his head, like he’s warning me not to dig too deep.
“You always shot straight with me, Will,” I say, a tightness taking over in my chest.
“I did,” he says, his eyes blinking twice, his mouth closed tight. I note the careful choice in words, the past tense.
“You shooting straight with me now?” I ask, my pulse now constant.
Will sucks in his top lip, his hands finding his pockets while he puffs air from his nose, his head down as he laughs silently. He cocks his head to one side, his eyes leveling me. I’m sick because I want to know, and I’m praying for him not to say anything.
“I’ll see you Monday then, I guess,” he says.
We stare at each other for a few more seconds, my hand poised on the button for my window. Will nods one more time before I push it, and I watch him in my rearview mirror as I drive away. I look at him for as long as I can. He never moves. He never tells me a thing.
Straight shot my ass.
Will
It’s a little over a two-hour drive to Indianapolis. Without Uncle Duncan in the car, I make it just under two. It’s noon when I roll up to her house, right in time for lunch. The van is out front, and I’m glad to see it there. At least one thing I’ve helped Tanya with has gone right.
I sit at the edge of the driveway for a few minutes thinking about Maddy, but looking at the doorway to my real responsibilities. I’m taking on too much; I know I am. But Tanya’s the one who convinced me to compete again. She said I needed to do one thing for me. And at least while I’m training in Knox, I’ll be able to drive to her house to help with things rather than having her save them up for whenever I can get myself to make the trip. Flights…they’re still hard for me.
I kill the engine, and the front door opens. She’s wearing sweat pants and a large State T-shirt, her blonde hair twisted in a knot on top of her head. She looks exhausted. I’m not helping enough.
“Thanks for driving in, Will. I’m really sorry. I know you were just here, but I didn’t expect the lift to come in so quickly. I tried to figure it out, but some of those parts are so dang heavy,” she says.
I grasp both of her shoulders and slow her down. She closes her eyes and exhales, her shoulders slumping. She blinks them open, and this close, I can really see the circles around them.
“I don’t mind driving here at all. Ever. Okay?”
She breathes in again, holding it for a second then huffing out stress that I know will begin rebuilding again in seconds.
“Okay,” she says, a forced smile stretching into her cheeks.
“Show me the equipment,” I say.
Tanya leads me through the living room of the small two-bedroom home, and we pass through boxes of medical supplies and stacks of clean towels, linens, and a few baskets of unfinished laundry. She glances at me sheepishly when I have to step over a pile of more clothes to get into the kitchen.
“Sometimes it’s hard to keep up,” she says.
I look around at the state of her house. She looks buried in life.
“Maybe I should come stay here…just for a little while,” I start, but she laughs to herself and reaches for my hand, squeezing it.
“I’ll catch up, Will. You can’t come here and drive to train every day,” she says.
I chew at the inside of my cheek, my mouth tasting of guilt as I nod and agree with her. She’s right. I couldn’t keep up with training at the Shore Club if I lived here. Doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do, though.
“At least let me hire you some help? In-home care, or a nurse, or…”
She holds up a box labeled LIFT MECHANISM, interrupting me before I can continue offering solutions that will never be enough to fill in for everything she needs. What she needs is me…here…full time.