Should have gone to Athens

I treaded water and a man on the pontoon said my name like it still belonged to something. AIS 2004. Gary Weldon. The freestyle flyer who should have gone to Athens. Three swimmers and a parent watching. I shook his hand at the top of the ramp and I didn't know what my face was doing so I let it.

I drove to Apex and watched Voss's smokers for the fifth time. The pull-counter is a clock for me now. I sat on the bench in my training gear and let the thing I lost have the room.

Rob told me after sparring about Lachie. Cut two weeks ago. Posting Apex footage to Northside under a fake handle. I didn't answer. I taped my hands. Taping is the only honest conversation I have some days.

Reyes's office rang at two. Tuesday confirmed. Ten days after the card. I wrote it on the back of the bout contract in the blue pen. Same piece of paper. Saturday and the theatre. The shoulder goes in hurt and comes out cut.

Fog on the drive home. The date on the back of the contract caught every streetlight. I should be calling someone. The text to Carly is sitting open like a held breath. I keep typing and deleting. Telling her makes the Tuesday real and the Saturday real and the year I am having real, and I can't carry all three at once.