Glimpse of Heaven (2/?)
Title: Glimpse of Heaven
Author: Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Excerpt: He had always wondered why he could never be as satisfied with himself and his performance in life as well as his swimming. In the end, he came to the conclusion that maybe this dissatisfaction that he was never rid of came from the fact that he was a perfectionist and with a very strong, competitive streak.
Wednesday February 2, 2005
Ann Arbor, Michigan
“Mom, I am perfectly capable of going to Jacksonville by myself for three days.” Michael exasperatedly said while rolling his eyes heavenward and counting backwards from the number twenty to calm down. This argument had been going on for the better part of an hour now. “I’m nineteen for God’s sake. That means that I’m not a minor and that I can live my own life now with my own decisions. I’m not one of your students and I certainly don’t need a chaperone anymore.”
“Don’t you dare talk back to me and roll your eyes, Michael Fred Phelps!” his mother said, crossly with a slightly annoyed tone. “You should be happy that I’m even contemplating letting you go. Old enough to make your own decisions?” she said, humorously. “I still haven’t been able to grasp and comprehend the decision that you made last year. Don’t you dare think that I’ll forget the humiliation that I, and the entire family for that matter, went through because of your lapse in judgment!
“I’ve had to cover for your mistake. I’ve done interviews and given speeches to try to help with the aftermath. And what do you to help me? You try to avoid the situation; you don’t want to talk about what happened. That just proves to me that you’re not ready to be thought of as an adult.” She had started gesturing with her finger towards him.
Michael released a breath, wearily. “Maybe I’m not that great of an adult yet because I never had the chance to grow into it with everyone controlling my life.” He stood slowly, stretching, and walked to the large bay window that faced the backyard and the small garden that came with his home. He loved looking out of the window into the scene of natural serenity. In it was a sense of calm and peacefulness that his life just couldn’t seem to ever achieve.
‘It’ll never happen,’ Michael thought to himself. ‘I’ll never be able to be truly happy and at ease with myself.’ He had always wondered why he could never be satisfied with himself and his performance in life as well as swimming. In the end, he came to the belief that maybe this dissatisfaction that he was never rid of came from the fact that he was a perfectionist and with a very strong, competitive streak. He really tried to be happy and the picture of perfection that everyone seemed to want from him. However, with all the bad publicity that he had received following the DUI, he didn’t think that his mom or the world, in general, would ever truly be able to get over his mistake.
Michael knew that it pointless to try and argue with his mother as she continued talking on about what his publicist said that he needed to do during his time supporting the New York City bid for the Olympic Games, so he decided to just get the matter over and done with. “Mom, just who are you planning on having stay with me and hold my hand while I’m there?” he asked as he once again sat down across from her in the main living room of his townhouse.
She glared at his word choice before grabbing one of Michael’s magazines from the low coffee table in front of her and opening it to a random page. She stared at the page for a moment before saying, “I was thinking about Ian Thorpe actually.”
“What?” Michael said, shocked. The indignation at the thought of being babysat by a person only three years older than him and Ian Thorpe, for that matter, erased his earlier thought about how it was pointless to argue with his mother. “No, no, no. You can’t ask Ian Thorpe to be my caretaker. Do you know how fast news travels in the swim world? Everyone will know about how my mother thinks that I’m still an eight year old. I’ll be laughed at.” He had jumped up from his seat on the light brown leather couch and started pacing, towering over his still seated mother with his six foot four inch frame as he walked back and forth.
At that point, it didn’t matter to him that Ian was his friend with whom he almost always was guaranteed to have a great time with, in or out of the pool. All he could think about now was how Ian would end up telling his friend Grant Hackett about how the American’s mother had contacted him to baby-sit her son. And Grant Hackett would probably tell all the other Aussies who would then spread the news everywhere. God, what would happen if people outside of the swim world found out?
“And just why not Ian Thorpe?” Debbie asked. She continued on before Michael could interject with his answer. “He’s going to be in Jacksonville for the Super Bowl as well, anyways. The committee was already planning on putting you two in the same hotel. And I find him perfectly trustworthy. He’s definitely more responsible than you are, it would seem. I think he’d make a great chaperone for you.” She paused before continuing, “Besides, I’ve already contacted him and he’s okayed the idea.”
Saturday February 5, 2005
Jacksonville, Florida
Michael wondered, and not for the first time, if his mother would ever stop treating him like a student at the middle school she (had once?) taught at. He was independent with his own townhouse, car, and he was paying his own college tuition, damn it.
Somehow, his mom had gotten the upper hand in the argument again, as she always somehow managed to do. So now, he was waiting for Ian Thorpe in the massive top floor suite at the Sea Mariner Resort in Jacksonville. He started walking around aimlessly looking at all the things in the suite to kill time until his Australian room mate, and chaperone, arrived.
The rooms were luxurious and extravagantly beautiful. There was a sitting room with a plasma television, two bedrooms, and a small kitchenette with a mini-bar (all alcohol removed by his mother’s orders, he was sure), microwave, and coffee maker. There was a large bathroom connecting the two bedrooms with a glass shower, bathtub, and a separate toilet and bidet. Michael stepped out onto the expansive, private balcony that had some porch chairs set up with a small table. There was a canopy covering the balcony that made it so that no one could see into it from above and there were no balconies nearby for people to see into it.
The view of the beach was awesome from the thirtieth floor even though the weather was slightly gray and foggy. It was yet another scene of serenity that he couldn’t ever truly be able to grasp and hold.
Michael stared out at the surf coming into the water’s edge. He had always loved watching waves coming in onto the golden sand of a beach. There was the look of the waves and the sound of the waves, and when in the water, the feel of the waves that just made Michael feel small and insignificant in the world. To Michael, nature was a powerful and unstoppable force that could never be beaten, no matter how hard mankind tried. Watching nature and seeing the power behind it made sure that he never became too sure of himself and always inspired him to work harder to be the best he could be.
“One day, I’m going to own a waterfront house with my own section of private beach and just sit outside watching the waves all day long,” the American said quietly into the warm, humid, Florida breeze.
“Then you’d best be ready to buy a lot of sun block, preferably with SPF 40 or higher. If you don’t, I’m afraid that you’ll be turning into an overripe tomato,” a voice said from the French doors that led outside to the balcony from the hotel suite.
Michael whipped around and saw that Ian Thorpe was standing at the entrance out onto the balcony. He had been so involved in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the Aussie enter the rooms. “Are you just going to stand there and stare?” Ian asked jokingly after Michael didn’t respond after a few seconds of just looking at the Australian unblinkingly.
The American swimmer shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry; you just shocked me-and broke my train of thought. I didn’t hear you come in at all. Did the people at the front desk give you a key to the room?” he inquired.
“Yeah,” Ian answered back as he walked back into the sitting room of the suite. He pulled the strap of the black duffel bag he was carrying off of his shoulder and tossed it none-to-gently onto the ground at his feet. “How long ago did you get here?” he asked as he took off the tan jacket that he had been wearing and as he threw himself at an Italian-looking chaise lounge that was a few inches too short for his body’s tall frame.
“Only about an hour or so ago.” Michael shifted, uncomfortably as he stood in front of the other swimmer. This whole situation was uncomfortable, he thought to himself. “Um, so how was your plane ride over here?” he asked, moving his weight back and forth between his feet and fidgeting with his hands.
“About the same as always: cramped, uncomfortable, and too long.” Ian said. “So how have you been?” he asked, gently, seemingly able to sense Michael’s melancholy mood.
Michael shrugged and replied in a voice so soft that Ian had to strain to hear it. “It was hell in October with my back injury. Then after the DUI in November, life progressed into a deeper pit of hell. I had to go to court, negotiate with all my sponsors, and deal with the familial punishment. Then, there have been all these articles about how my moral deterioration may progress with psychologists talking about how it may be a result of my sudden wealth. Well, they blame it on the rap music or the sudden wealth.” He stopped and then added as an afterthought, “yeah.”
“Bloody oath! So you made a blue, I knew that there would be repercussions for you, but not lasting months after the fact.” There was a pause before Ian continued. “But you were named the USOC’s Sportsman of the Year,” Ian said simply after a moment of awkward silence. “That should bring you some good publicity and put you back in some good spotlight.”
“Yeah, it’s been getting a lot better lately. I’ve been focusing on swimming and school-which is just great, even though I’m only taking two classes right now.” Michael only then just noticed that Ian was red-eyed and yawning into his large hand. “God, I totally forgot that you just flew in straight from Sydney to LA and then here. You must be exhausted. Do you want me to leave you alone to sleep?” he asked.
The Aussie yawned again, covering his mouth. “No, don’t do that,” he said. “It’s only around eight in the morning here, isn’t it?” At Michael’s nod, he continued with a smile. “I can’t be going to sleep now or I’ll look and be like a bloody zombie tomorrow and then I won’t be any good company for you.”
Michael smiled at the Aussie’s attempt at lightening the atmosphere of the room. “And we just can’t have that, now, can we? So what do you want to do then?” The nineteen year old asked as he sat down in the chair next to Ian. He was feeling a lot more comfortable now. For some reason that Michael could never figure out, he always felt so much more calm and relaxed when he was with the other swimmer. “There’s not much that we can do without going out into public and possibly being mobbed.”
“Then we don’t have to go out,” Ian said, as he sat up slightly. “I was reading up about this hotel on the internet back home. They mentioned that the more expensive suites all had a Playstation 2 and that they have games available down in the lobby for rental.” He stood up and started looking around the room for something, “They always have those laminated brochures in the rooms. Aha!” he said as he opened a drawer in the dresser below the plasma television that also held the Playstation.
“So?” Michael said.
“Yeah, they have games available through the front desk,” Ian said as he read off of the sheet. “Do you want to go down now?”
“Yeah,” the American answered back, stretching slightly. “We could also grab some breakfast from the hotel restaurant.”
Ian agreed and they walked out of the room and firmly shut the door behind them, making sure it was locked. They didn’t want to have any chance of having their stuff taken. “So,” Michael said quietly and with a slight anxious tone to his voice as they strode towards the elevators, “did you by chance tell someone about my mom asking you to watch over me?”
“Ah, now, would you really think I would do that to you?” Ian asked as he pushed the button to send the elevator down to the first floor. “I don’t think that you’ll ever escape from the ribbing if I did blab… Perhaps I should tell then.” He laughed at the look on the other swimmer’s face. “Nah, mate,” he continued. “I’d never do that to ya. I kept mum and didn’t tell anybody.”
“Thank you so much.” Michael said, sounding tremendously relieved.
“It was nothing.”
They went down to the petite restaurant located in the hotel. Surprisingly, there were very few people in Le Poisson Bleu. Ian and Michael ate while talking quietly amongst themselves, bringing no unwanted attention upon them. Afterwards, they went to the front desk and decided to pay to rent the Simpson’s Hit and Run game before returning to their rooms after signing a few autographs. They exited out of the elevator onto the thirtieth floor laughing loudly at one of Ian’s tales about the Australian swim team.
“Race you,” the Aussie shouted as he started running down the corridor towards their room’s door.
“No fair, you cheater,” Michael yelled as he chased after him. Ian managed to enter the suite first with his head start.
“You know, we probably could have rented a game that we both could play at the same time,” Ian mentioned as they put in the game into the Playstation.
“Nah,” Michael said. “I didn’t feel like having a competition for anything this weekend, not even a videogame. Besides, I like watching other people play videogames before playing myself.” He laid down on the chaise lounge that Ian had occupied earlier. The Aussie just sat down on the sofa that was directly in front of the television.
They played the game, sharing the one controller between them, until two o’clock when Michael asked if the two of them could go to the waterfront and one of the many vendors there for lunch. “You do realize that they’ll probably a lot more people there now than there was at eight this morning,” Ian mentioned as they both went to their separate rooms to change to go to lunch.
“Yeah, I thought about that but I really hate being stuck in any hotel room for too long.” Michael said as he selected a plain, white, probably designer brand shirt to wear. “I really want to go out, don’t you?” he asked, calling through the open bathroom door that led to Ian’s room.
Ian nodded as he pulled a shirt from his duffel bag. In doing so, he dislodged a plastic bag that he had placed in there when packing at home in Sydney. “Hey, wait!” he called out to Michael just before he pulled on his shirt. “I just remembered that I got some things in Sydney to give to you. The people won’t expect their American hero wearing clothes from his rival nation, will they?” He paused before speaking again, “and even if they recognize us we should be fine.”
Michael looked at the logo on the bag that Ian tossed to him. “You bought me something from the Sydney Zoo?” he asked, smirking slightly. He opened the bag to find a t-shirt, cap, and a koala stuffed animal. “Thank you; it’s a really, uh, sweet gift.”
Ian laughed and Michael’s tone of voice and the expression on his face, “A little childish, yes. But well, try the shirt and cap on.”
The American tugged the plain white t-shirt off of its position on his neck before pulling on the deep emerald green shirt from the Sydney Zoo. It had a picture of a koala on the front with the question ‘Hugged a Koala Today?’ and the words Sydney Zoo on the back of the shirt below the neck in a golden yellow. The cap was also green and had Australia written on it in yellow. “I’ll be accused of treason with this hat on,” he said as he put on a pair of sunglasses with black, reflective lenses.
“Yeah, well, I’ll be hung with you for corrupting you.” Ian said laughing as he pulled on his own hat and sunglasses. “Come on, let’s go.”
They bought hotdogs and ate them as the two of them walked along the small shops and stands along the waterfront. The two Olympians talked about everything and nothing for more than an hour before heading back to the hotel again.
For the rest of the day, they continued playing the game they’d rented, talking, and occasionally taking breaks to just sit on the balcony looking over the blue water. For dinner they decided to just order room service and eat on the balcony.
At ten-thirty, they both said good night before going into their separate rooms and changing to go to bed.
It was one in the morning according to the red numbers of the clock on the bedside stand when Ian was woken up by the pained moans and whimpering coming from Michael’s room. “What the fuck?” he whispered to himself as he stumbled out of the king-sized bed in his room. He walked over to the bathroom door while scrubbing at his eyes and hair. From the bathroom he entered Michael’s room. He was instantly awake when he saw and heard the American.
Michael was only wearing a pair of black boxers and a plain, sleeveless shirt and was violently tossing himself on his bed while mumbling to himself. “No, no. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t try to kill anyone. I didn’t think that I did. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He kept repeating that he didn’t mean to and that he was sorry over and over again.
“Good God,” Ian whispered as he stood frozen by the bed. He had never known that the American had nightmares. No one had ever discussed them before and he knew that news in the swim world traveled fast. It was a wonder that none of his roommates had mentioned them before.
“I won’t do it again, I swear I won’t drink and drive again,” Michael started muttering with a panicked pitch to his voice. With those words, Ian realized that no one in the swim world would have mentioned these nightmares because no one knew about them.
“Jesus,” Ian said as he quickly ran up to Michael’s side and started gently shaking his shoulder. “Mikey, wake up.” The American just swung himself away from Ian’s touch and continued on in his nightmare. Ian finally had to climb into the bed in order to hold Michael and shake him awake. “Come on, Mikey, wake up!” he said, softly yelling to the struggling man beneath him.
With that, Michael woke up with a gasp. He instantly broke into tears and sobs that he tried to stop and stifle. “I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered to Ian as he covered his mouth with his hands. It was only then that Ian realized that Michael was trying to stop crying because he was embarrassed and anxious because the Australian was there with him.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about, mate,” Ian said gently, stroking Michael’s hair. “Just let it out, don’t be afraid to cry.”
They sat there on the bed in Michael’s room for at least ten minutes with Michael crying softly into Ian’s chest as he held him and rocked him gently back and forth. Ian kept whispering reassuring words to Michael while running his hands through his hair and down his back.
“I don’t know why I still have nightmares and cry about it.” Michael finally said when his sobs had finally died down and stopped. “I mean, it’s been months since it happened and no one has ever yelled that stuff to me like in the nightmares-besides all the bad articles and hate mail, you know.”
“It’s going to be okay and eventually the nightmares will stop. Have you talked to anybody about them-your mom, sisters, a close friend?” Ian asked. Michael shook his head negative. “That’s probably what you need to do. I’m not saying that it has to be to me, but just find someone to talk to about all the worries, fears, and regrets in your mind. Let’s just both go to sleep for now.”
He went to get up out of the bed but Michael pulled him back down. “I know this is horribly cliché, but will you please stay with me-at least until I’m asleep again?”
“Yeah sure,” Ian moved to lay down on the bed behind Michael and pulled him into his chest. The American quickly went limp in deep slumber. “Just sleep now,” Ian whispered, needlessly.
Author: Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Excerpt: He had always wondered why he could never be as satisfied with himself and his performance in life as well as his swimming. In the end, he came to the conclusion that maybe this dissatisfaction that he was never rid of came from the fact that he was a perfectionist and with a very strong, competitive streak.
Wednesday February 2, 2005
Ann Arbor, Michigan
“Mom, I am perfectly capable of going to Jacksonville by myself for three days.” Michael exasperatedly said while rolling his eyes heavenward and counting backwards from the number twenty to calm down. This argument had been going on for the better part of an hour now. “I’m nineteen for God’s sake. That means that I’m not a minor and that I can live my own life now with my own decisions. I’m not one of your students and I certainly don’t need a chaperone anymore.”
“Don’t you dare talk back to me and roll your eyes, Michael Fred Phelps!” his mother said, crossly with a slightly annoyed tone. “You should be happy that I’m even contemplating letting you go. Old enough to make your own decisions?” she said, humorously. “I still haven’t been able to grasp and comprehend the decision that you made last year. Don’t you dare think that I’ll forget the humiliation that I, and the entire family for that matter, went through because of your lapse in judgment!
“I’ve had to cover for your mistake. I’ve done interviews and given speeches to try to help with the aftermath. And what do you to help me? You try to avoid the situation; you don’t want to talk about what happened. That just proves to me that you’re not ready to be thought of as an adult.” She had started gesturing with her finger towards him.
Michael released a breath, wearily. “Maybe I’m not that great of an adult yet because I never had the chance to grow into it with everyone controlling my life.” He stood slowly, stretching, and walked to the large bay window that faced the backyard and the small garden that came with his home. He loved looking out of the window into the scene of natural serenity. In it was a sense of calm and peacefulness that his life just couldn’t seem to ever achieve.
‘It’ll never happen,’ Michael thought to himself. ‘I’ll never be able to be truly happy and at ease with myself.’ He had always wondered why he could never be satisfied with himself and his performance in life as well as swimming. In the end, he came to the belief that maybe this dissatisfaction that he was never rid of came from the fact that he was a perfectionist and with a very strong, competitive streak. He really tried to be happy and the picture of perfection that everyone seemed to want from him. However, with all the bad publicity that he had received following the DUI, he didn’t think that his mom or the world, in general, would ever truly be able to get over his mistake.
Michael knew that it pointless to try and argue with his mother as she continued talking on about what his publicist said that he needed to do during his time supporting the New York City bid for the Olympic Games, so he decided to just get the matter over and done with. “Mom, just who are you planning on having stay with me and hold my hand while I’m there?” he asked as he once again sat down across from her in the main living room of his townhouse.
She glared at his word choice before grabbing one of Michael’s magazines from the low coffee table in front of her and opening it to a random page. She stared at the page for a moment before saying, “I was thinking about Ian Thorpe actually.”
“What?” Michael said, shocked. The indignation at the thought of being babysat by a person only three years older than him and Ian Thorpe, for that matter, erased his earlier thought about how it was pointless to argue with his mother. “No, no, no. You can’t ask Ian Thorpe to be my caretaker. Do you know how fast news travels in the swim world? Everyone will know about how my mother thinks that I’m still an eight year old. I’ll be laughed at.” He had jumped up from his seat on the light brown leather couch and started pacing, towering over his still seated mother with his six foot four inch frame as he walked back and forth.
At that point, it didn’t matter to him that Ian was his friend with whom he almost always was guaranteed to have a great time with, in or out of the pool. All he could think about now was how Ian would end up telling his friend Grant Hackett about how the American’s mother had contacted him to baby-sit her son. And Grant Hackett would probably tell all the other Aussies who would then spread the news everywhere. God, what would happen if people outside of the swim world found out?
“And just why not Ian Thorpe?” Debbie asked. She continued on before Michael could interject with his answer. “He’s going to be in Jacksonville for the Super Bowl as well, anyways. The committee was already planning on putting you two in the same hotel. And I find him perfectly trustworthy. He’s definitely more responsible than you are, it would seem. I think he’d make a great chaperone for you.” She paused before continuing, “Besides, I’ve already contacted him and he’s okayed the idea.”
Saturday February 5, 2005
Jacksonville, Florida
Michael wondered, and not for the first time, if his mother would ever stop treating him like a student at the middle school she (had once?) taught at. He was independent with his own townhouse, car, and he was paying his own college tuition, damn it.
Somehow, his mom had gotten the upper hand in the argument again, as she always somehow managed to do. So now, he was waiting for Ian Thorpe in the massive top floor suite at the Sea Mariner Resort in Jacksonville. He started walking around aimlessly looking at all the things in the suite to kill time until his Australian room mate, and chaperone, arrived.
The rooms were luxurious and extravagantly beautiful. There was a sitting room with a plasma television, two bedrooms, and a small kitchenette with a mini-bar (all alcohol removed by his mother’s orders, he was sure), microwave, and coffee maker. There was a large bathroom connecting the two bedrooms with a glass shower, bathtub, and a separate toilet and bidet. Michael stepped out onto the expansive, private balcony that had some porch chairs set up with a small table. There was a canopy covering the balcony that made it so that no one could see into it from above and there were no balconies nearby for people to see into it.
The view of the beach was awesome from the thirtieth floor even though the weather was slightly gray and foggy. It was yet another scene of serenity that he couldn’t ever truly be able to grasp and hold.
Michael stared out at the surf coming into the water’s edge. He had always loved watching waves coming in onto the golden sand of a beach. There was the look of the waves and the sound of the waves, and when in the water, the feel of the waves that just made Michael feel small and insignificant in the world. To Michael, nature was a powerful and unstoppable force that could never be beaten, no matter how hard mankind tried. Watching nature and seeing the power behind it made sure that he never became too sure of himself and always inspired him to work harder to be the best he could be.
“One day, I’m going to own a waterfront house with my own section of private beach and just sit outside watching the waves all day long,” the American said quietly into the warm, humid, Florida breeze.
“Then you’d best be ready to buy a lot of sun block, preferably with SPF 40 or higher. If you don’t, I’m afraid that you’ll be turning into an overripe tomato,” a voice said from the French doors that led outside to the balcony from the hotel suite.
Michael whipped around and saw that Ian Thorpe was standing at the entrance out onto the balcony. He had been so involved in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the Aussie enter the rooms. “Are you just going to stand there and stare?” Ian asked jokingly after Michael didn’t respond after a few seconds of just looking at the Australian unblinkingly.
The American swimmer shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry; you just shocked me-and broke my train of thought. I didn’t hear you come in at all. Did the people at the front desk give you a key to the room?” he inquired.
“Yeah,” Ian answered back as he walked back into the sitting room of the suite. He pulled the strap of the black duffel bag he was carrying off of his shoulder and tossed it none-to-gently onto the ground at his feet. “How long ago did you get here?” he asked as he took off the tan jacket that he had been wearing and as he threw himself at an Italian-looking chaise lounge that was a few inches too short for his body’s tall frame.
“Only about an hour or so ago.” Michael shifted, uncomfortably as he stood in front of the other swimmer. This whole situation was uncomfortable, he thought to himself. “Um, so how was your plane ride over here?” he asked, moving his weight back and forth between his feet and fidgeting with his hands.
“About the same as always: cramped, uncomfortable, and too long.” Ian said. “So how have you been?” he asked, gently, seemingly able to sense Michael’s melancholy mood.
Michael shrugged and replied in a voice so soft that Ian had to strain to hear it. “It was hell in October with my back injury. Then after the DUI in November, life progressed into a deeper pit of hell. I had to go to court, negotiate with all my sponsors, and deal with the familial punishment. Then, there have been all these articles about how my moral deterioration may progress with psychologists talking about how it may be a result of my sudden wealth. Well, they blame it on the rap music or the sudden wealth.” He stopped and then added as an afterthought, “yeah.”
“Bloody oath! So you made a blue, I knew that there would be repercussions for you, but not lasting months after the fact.” There was a pause before Ian continued. “But you were named the USOC’s Sportsman of the Year,” Ian said simply after a moment of awkward silence. “That should bring you some good publicity and put you back in some good spotlight.”
“Yeah, it’s been getting a lot better lately. I’ve been focusing on swimming and school-which is just great, even though I’m only taking two classes right now.” Michael only then just noticed that Ian was red-eyed and yawning into his large hand. “God, I totally forgot that you just flew in straight from Sydney to LA and then here. You must be exhausted. Do you want me to leave you alone to sleep?” he asked.
The Aussie yawned again, covering his mouth. “No, don’t do that,” he said. “It’s only around eight in the morning here, isn’t it?” At Michael’s nod, he continued with a smile. “I can’t be going to sleep now or I’ll look and be like a bloody zombie tomorrow and then I won’t be any good company for you.”
Michael smiled at the Aussie’s attempt at lightening the atmosphere of the room. “And we just can’t have that, now, can we? So what do you want to do then?” The nineteen year old asked as he sat down in the chair next to Ian. He was feeling a lot more comfortable now. For some reason that Michael could never figure out, he always felt so much more calm and relaxed when he was with the other swimmer. “There’s not much that we can do without going out into public and possibly being mobbed.”
“Then we don’t have to go out,” Ian said, as he sat up slightly. “I was reading up about this hotel on the internet back home. They mentioned that the more expensive suites all had a Playstation 2 and that they have games available down in the lobby for rental.” He stood up and started looking around the room for something, “They always have those laminated brochures in the rooms. Aha!” he said as he opened a drawer in the dresser below the plasma television that also held the Playstation.
“So?” Michael said.
“Yeah, they have games available through the front desk,” Ian said as he read off of the sheet. “Do you want to go down now?”
“Yeah,” the American answered back, stretching slightly. “We could also grab some breakfast from the hotel restaurant.”
Ian agreed and they walked out of the room and firmly shut the door behind them, making sure it was locked. They didn’t want to have any chance of having their stuff taken. “So,” Michael said quietly and with a slight anxious tone to his voice as they strode towards the elevators, “did you by chance tell someone about my mom asking you to watch over me?”
“Ah, now, would you really think I would do that to you?” Ian asked as he pushed the button to send the elevator down to the first floor. “I don’t think that you’ll ever escape from the ribbing if I did blab… Perhaps I should tell then.” He laughed at the look on the other swimmer’s face. “Nah, mate,” he continued. “I’d never do that to ya. I kept mum and didn’t tell anybody.”
“Thank you so much.” Michael said, sounding tremendously relieved.
“It was nothing.”
They went down to the petite restaurant located in the hotel. Surprisingly, there were very few people in Le Poisson Bleu. Ian and Michael ate while talking quietly amongst themselves, bringing no unwanted attention upon them. Afterwards, they went to the front desk and decided to pay to rent the Simpson’s Hit and Run game before returning to their rooms after signing a few autographs. They exited out of the elevator onto the thirtieth floor laughing loudly at one of Ian’s tales about the Australian swim team.
“Race you,” the Aussie shouted as he started running down the corridor towards their room’s door.
“No fair, you cheater,” Michael yelled as he chased after him. Ian managed to enter the suite first with his head start.
“You know, we probably could have rented a game that we both could play at the same time,” Ian mentioned as they put in the game into the Playstation.
“Nah,” Michael said. “I didn’t feel like having a competition for anything this weekend, not even a videogame. Besides, I like watching other people play videogames before playing myself.” He laid down on the chaise lounge that Ian had occupied earlier. The Aussie just sat down on the sofa that was directly in front of the television.
They played the game, sharing the one controller between them, until two o’clock when Michael asked if the two of them could go to the waterfront and one of the many vendors there for lunch. “You do realize that they’ll probably a lot more people there now than there was at eight this morning,” Ian mentioned as they both went to their separate rooms to change to go to lunch.
“Yeah, I thought about that but I really hate being stuck in any hotel room for too long.” Michael said as he selected a plain, white, probably designer brand shirt to wear. “I really want to go out, don’t you?” he asked, calling through the open bathroom door that led to Ian’s room.
Ian nodded as he pulled a shirt from his duffel bag. In doing so, he dislodged a plastic bag that he had placed in there when packing at home in Sydney. “Hey, wait!” he called out to Michael just before he pulled on his shirt. “I just remembered that I got some things in Sydney to give to you. The people won’t expect their American hero wearing clothes from his rival nation, will they?” He paused before speaking again, “and even if they recognize us we should be fine.”
Michael looked at the logo on the bag that Ian tossed to him. “You bought me something from the Sydney Zoo?” he asked, smirking slightly. He opened the bag to find a t-shirt, cap, and a koala stuffed animal. “Thank you; it’s a really, uh, sweet gift.”
Ian laughed and Michael’s tone of voice and the expression on his face, “A little childish, yes. But well, try the shirt and cap on.”
The American tugged the plain white t-shirt off of its position on his neck before pulling on the deep emerald green shirt from the Sydney Zoo. It had a picture of a koala on the front with the question ‘Hugged a Koala Today?’ and the words Sydney Zoo on the back of the shirt below the neck in a golden yellow. The cap was also green and had Australia written on it in yellow. “I’ll be accused of treason with this hat on,” he said as he put on a pair of sunglasses with black, reflective lenses.
“Yeah, well, I’ll be hung with you for corrupting you.” Ian said laughing as he pulled on his own hat and sunglasses. “Come on, let’s go.”
They bought hotdogs and ate them as the two of them walked along the small shops and stands along the waterfront. The two Olympians talked about everything and nothing for more than an hour before heading back to the hotel again.
For the rest of the day, they continued playing the game they’d rented, talking, and occasionally taking breaks to just sit on the balcony looking over the blue water. For dinner they decided to just order room service and eat on the balcony.
At ten-thirty, they both said good night before going into their separate rooms and changing to go to bed.
It was one in the morning according to the red numbers of the clock on the bedside stand when Ian was woken up by the pained moans and whimpering coming from Michael’s room. “What the fuck?” he whispered to himself as he stumbled out of the king-sized bed in his room. He walked over to the bathroom door while scrubbing at his eyes and hair. From the bathroom he entered Michael’s room. He was instantly awake when he saw and heard the American.
Michael was only wearing a pair of black boxers and a plain, sleeveless shirt and was violently tossing himself on his bed while mumbling to himself. “No, no. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t try to kill anyone. I didn’t think that I did. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He kept repeating that he didn’t mean to and that he was sorry over and over again.
“Good God,” Ian whispered as he stood frozen by the bed. He had never known that the American had nightmares. No one had ever discussed them before and he knew that news in the swim world traveled fast. It was a wonder that none of his roommates had mentioned them before.
“I won’t do it again, I swear I won’t drink and drive again,” Michael started muttering with a panicked pitch to his voice. With those words, Ian realized that no one in the swim world would have mentioned these nightmares because no one knew about them.
“Jesus,” Ian said as he quickly ran up to Michael’s side and started gently shaking his shoulder. “Mikey, wake up.” The American just swung himself away from Ian’s touch and continued on in his nightmare. Ian finally had to climb into the bed in order to hold Michael and shake him awake. “Come on, Mikey, wake up!” he said, softly yelling to the struggling man beneath him.
With that, Michael woke up with a gasp. He instantly broke into tears and sobs that he tried to stop and stifle. “I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered to Ian as he covered his mouth with his hands. It was only then that Ian realized that Michael was trying to stop crying because he was embarrassed and anxious because the Australian was there with him.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about, mate,” Ian said gently, stroking Michael’s hair. “Just let it out, don’t be afraid to cry.”
They sat there on the bed in Michael’s room for at least ten minutes with Michael crying softly into Ian’s chest as he held him and rocked him gently back and forth. Ian kept whispering reassuring words to Michael while running his hands through his hair and down his back.
“I don’t know why I still have nightmares and cry about it.” Michael finally said when his sobs had finally died down and stopped. “I mean, it’s been months since it happened and no one has ever yelled that stuff to me like in the nightmares-besides all the bad articles and hate mail, you know.”
“It’s going to be okay and eventually the nightmares will stop. Have you talked to anybody about them-your mom, sisters, a close friend?” Ian asked. Michael shook his head negative. “That’s probably what you need to do. I’m not saying that it has to be to me, but just find someone to talk to about all the worries, fears, and regrets in your mind. Let’s just both go to sleep for now.”
He went to get up out of the bed but Michael pulled him back down. “I know this is horribly cliché, but will you please stay with me-at least until I’m asleep again?”
“Yeah sure,” Ian moved to lay down on the bed behind Michael and pulled him into his chest. The American quickly went limp in deep slumber. “Just sleep now,” Ian whispered, needlessly.