“I like that you’re so sure.”
“It’s necessary. If you give yourself any wiggle room, some of that desire seeps through and you begin to second guess your purpose, ya know?” he asked, turning to face me.
“Maybe. I’ve never had a dream that big. Graduating college and finding a job is as big as it gets for me right now. I just don’t want to work for my dad.”
“What does he do?”
“His firm sells technology services to utility companies. Don’t ask me what that means. All I know is, there’s no equipment involved and it’s supposedly the next big wave in the tech market.” I glided my hand over my head to indicate I had no idea what the hell any of that meant.
“Okay, so what do you want to do? Where do you see yourself a year from now? Do you want to stay in the area or move to LA or San Francisco? I know you, Der. You’re a planner. You must have ideas.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I do. I want to go to culinary school and eventually open my own bistro. My parents won’t approve but…”
“But it’s your life.”
“True, but you’ve met my folks at our games. You can probably tell what I’m up against,” I huffed.
“Yeah. They’re a little intense,” he conceded.
“That’s one way to put it. I either have to prepare to do battle or take the easy way out and just do what they expect. I’m twenty-three, but my desire to please and not rock the boat hasn’t gone anywhere. I mean…look at you. The Olympics is a lofty goal, but it’s a solid one. A bright shiny coin…or gold medal,” I commented with a smile. “Mine is fuzzier. The uncertainty makes me feel like I’m treading water in the deep end of the pool in the dark. I can do it, but I wish I could see.”
Gabe tilted his chin thoughtfully. “You use your senses. That’s even better. You say you’re confused sometimes, but you know when to pay attention. You identify the obstacles and take notes. I like that about you.”
“I think that’s a nice way of saying I’m overly cautious,” I huffed before biting into my sandwich.
“Take a compliment, Vaughn. I think you’re cool. I like you and I admire you.”
I lowered my sunglasses and flashed a megawatt grin at him. “Thank you. I think you’re pretty cool too.”
“Aww. Quit it. You’re making me blush,” he snorted, bumping my arm.
We stared at the horizon, lost in our own thoughts for a moment. I didn’t want to talk about uncertain futures anymore, but I was curious about something.
“I thought the Olympics was something your dad wanted. When did it become your dream?” I asked as I reached into my bag for a water bottle.
Gabe furrowed his brow and scratched the back of his neck. “When he had his next kid. I guess I wanted him to remember I was still around.”
“Oh.”
“He didn’t call or come by consistently anymore and…I didn’t do well with the rejection. I was angry all the time. One day it came out in my game. I scored five goals, caused five kickouts for the other team and morphed into a freaking Tasmanian devil in the water. I remember my coach pulling me aside afterward and saying, ‘Passion is your muse. Use it.’ I was maybe eleven. I didn’t know what he meant at the time, but I wrote it down. My mom was always doing that to help her learn English and…long story short, my coach was right. The second I rechanneled my anger, I was free. Pretty soon, the sport that dragged me down and highlighted all of my flaws, like my inability to focus, my lack of drive and determination…became my greatest strength. I made the game mine. It’s not his. It belongs to me. We may share some DNA, but I’m nothing like him. I’m not a quitter.”
“Did he quit water polo?”
“No. He quit on his family. He quit on me. He makes guest appearances now like that’s a big fucking deal and…”
“And what?”
“It’s not. Fuck him,” he said in a small voice. “If I ever have kids, I won’t be an occasional dad. Maybe water polo isn’t everything, but it’s helped me become a better person. John Wooden said sports don’t build character, they reveal it. I totally believe that’s true. Discipline, friendship, hard work. I don’t know where I’ll be in five years or ten or twenty. Maybe I’ll coach, teach or hey…maybe I’ll work at my boyfriend’s bistro selling—” Gabe tossed a quizzical sideways glance at me. “What are we selling?”
“Baguettes and stuff,” I replied, pursing my lips together to keep my smile from expanding too far too fast.
“Cool. I like bread. The point is…I’m going to keep working my ass off, and I’m gonna do my best to be a decent human. That’s all.”