Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
For reasons I don’t fully understand, Adrian waits three days to talk to Rohan.
When he finally does, it’s well past our last practice of the day, when—after the usual informal social hour—all the other kids have finally headed home.
I’ve just finished wiping down my shell and giving my boat shoes an extra clean.
I’m feeling happy with my performance today—or at least content.
I’ve finally been progressing nicely. Nothing revelatory, but it’s progress.
Whether it will be enough to beat either the Brazilian or the Canadian, I don’t know.
With my newly freshened shell back in its berth, I forge back toward the bay doors of the dusty boathouse.
As I approach the exit, though, I find Adrian and Rohan, rimmed in the low light of sunset.
The conversation doesn’t look like it’s going well.
Rohan has his arms folded tightly around his torso and Adrian’s mouth is etched with a frown.
I take another step, aiming to bolt past them, but Adrian catches me mid-stride with his eyes. He shakes his head minutely, as if to warn me away. So, instead, I tuck myself into the shadows between the rafters and wait.
“I just—” Rohan’s voice is strained, higher pitched than I’ve heard before. It’s certainly not filled with the easy charisma that he exudes in most of his videos, even the ones where he’s being real, as he says, “I just don’t think I’d be good at it.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Adrian replies. “But I want to make sure you know that you’re just as capable as the others in the boat. I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t believe in you.”
He’s using that steady, confident voice again. It’s as smooth as sun butter.
Rohan, however, does not seem to be swayed. “I don’t know, Coach,” he says.
“Look,” Adrian says. “Do you trust me?”
There’s silence, but I imagine Rohan nodding. How could he not?
“Good,” Adrian says. “Sometimes it’s hard for us to believe in ourselves. I understand that better than you might think. But, here’s the thing, I believe in you. Anytime you’re doubting yourself or feeling unsure, you can think about that.”
He’s not even giving me this speech, and it still sprays my skull with riffles of pleasure. There have been dozens of times in my life that I’ve needed to hear words like those. After any number of tough training sessions, after I broke my ankle. In Italy. Especially in Italy.
After an agonizing silence, Rohan says, “You might believe in me, but you don’t know for sure that I can do this. You can’t.”
My stomach twists on Adrian’s behalf.
“You’re right,” Adrian says. “It’s a risk. There’s always a risk in trying something new or pushing yourself to the next level. Why don’t you take some time to think it over?”
I hear the telltale squeak of a shoe.
“Coach.” Rohan’s voice sounds strained and breathy. “Maybe—maybe this isn’t the right time, but I…”
His voice rises with the vowel and he clears his throat.
After another moment passes, Adrian gently prods, “Go ahead. Whatever it is. You can say it.”
“I’ve been thinking I should quit.”
What?
“What?” Adrian asks.
“I don’t think I want to keep rowing.”
My brain stutters on this pronouncement.
I admit that I haven’t always appreciated Rohan or that camera on his phone, but I have started to feel like I understand him.
And his passion for this team. He’s often the first person to arrive at practice and nearly always the last to leave.
On more than one occasion, I’ve seen his mom get out of her car to tear him away from the docks.
And the way he talks about our sport in his videos—well, if it’s an act, then Rohan is one of the most talented actors of his generation.
Now he wants to quit?
“I—I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Rohan continues, although if this is true, there hasn’t been a hint of it in his reflections on TikTok.
If anything, it seems like he’s been happier than usual—more excited, more energetic, particularly since his follower count started ticking up.
“My parents think that practices are taking too much time away from family stuff.”
“And that’s how you feel, too?” Adrian asks. “Not just what your parents want?”
“Maybe it’s for the best.”
It’s not an answer, and I’m sure Adrian knows that, but he also stays quiet, perhaps unwilling to challenge Rohan’s parents, even implicitly.
I drum my fingers against my thigh, concern building at the idea that I am at least partially responsible for this turn of events.
There aren’t any footsteps to suggest they’ve left, but the silence has stretched for far too long.
A beat later, I lean forward to chance a glance at the pair.
Rohan is looking down at his shoes. Adrian has his face tilted toward the boathouse, expression flat.
I’ve been around coaches for my entire adult life, but I think I’m just beginning to appreciate how difficult this job really is.
Not just the technical aspects or even the soft skills, like communication and empathy, but the weight of it.
The balance between uplifting your athletes and doing what’s best for them, even if they might not always appreciate the bigger picture.
And then the incredible responsibility of shaping that bigger picture in the first place.
Adrian closes his eyes slowly and rubs at the back of his neck. I have exactly two choices.
I could stay away. Maybe I should. I don’t want to be an interloper between coach and athlete. I don’t want to insert myself where I don’t belong.
Or I could try to help.
Then he opens his eyes and looks directly at my place in the shadows. I catch his gaze and tilt my head in question. He nods, so slightly that Rohan might not have caught the gesture. For me, it’s enough.
“Hey,” I say, stepping out from my hiding place.
Rohan spins.
“How long have you been lurking back there?” he asks with more suspicion than I’d like.
Instantly, I’m second-guessing this decision. “Sorry. I overheard your conversation and I thought…Well, I wondered if you would be up to talk to me about it?”
Rohan doesn’t answer. Shit, maybe this was a mistake.
The stakes of this conversation are too big for me.
Telling Peter about one of my own experiences is one thing.
Navigating a path here that both respects Rohan’s autonomy, but also helps penetrate the root of his decision…
I don’t know if I’m equipped to do that.
“It’s your choice,” Adrian says to his athlete. “But I do think you should hear Kath out. She’s been in your shoes before—leveled up more times than I can count. She knows what it feels like to be kicked down and get back up. She’s someone worth listening to.”
Rohan frowns, then folds his arms and lifts a shoulder. “Fine.”
With that, Adrian gives me an encouraging smile. I’m still terrified, but I already know what I should do. I made the decision to step out of those shadows. Looking at his face—his green eyes fixated on mine, full of confidence, never once wavering—I know I have to at least try.
“Did Adrian tell you I was the one who recommended you for Peter’s spot?”
Rohan’s eyes ping between us without dropping an ounce of skepticism. “Why?” When I don’t immediately answer he adds, “Because I know it isn’t my rhythm. And there are at least three other guys who would beat me in a seat race, so definitely it isn’t my speed.”
He’s still staring daggers at me, but something about this response crystallizes my understanding of the conversation. At the end of the day, this is about rowing. Maybe I don’t know how to navigate the emotions of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I sure as shit know how to talk about crew.
“Why do you row?” I ask.
Rohan frowns, clearly caught off guard by the question.
“I can go first,” I say. “I row because it gives my life stillness and order. My friend Sofi—she’s the Olympian I’ve told you about—she loves to be part of a team.
Your coach…he doesn’t race anymore, but he likes helping other people achieve their full potential.
He likes to figure out what makes his athletes tick and use that to help them succeed. ”
Adrian raises a single, surprised eyebrow in my direction. It’s enough to tell me I nailed it, even though I’m making some inferences. But I was pretty sure I’d be right about this. It’s one of the many things I like about him.
Rohan is now staring at his hands.
His coach nudges him softly with an elbow. “How about you?”
“It’s fun,” he says in a voice that’s almost comically glum.
“Really?” I ask. “Why?”
He shrugs, almost like he isn’t going to answer. “My friends all do it.”
“And?”
“And it’s fun to goof around with them and stuff, especially early in the morning. My jokes are funnier when people are tired.” An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “And I like making TikToks. I never really—I never actually meant to be any good.”
“So, what’s changed? It doesn’t sound like you stopped finding it fun.”
Rohan frowns. “It would be different.”
“You mean…it would be different if you move up boats?”
He freezes, shoulders rising like he’s just realized he’s trapped and is calculating escape routes. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to Adrian, searching his coach for a reaction. Yet the only betrayal of his feelings is one of his fingers, which taps gently behind his back.
“Is that what it is?” he asks gently.
Rohan, appeased by this, nods, sinking into the motion with the relief of truth.
“If I move to the faster boat, I’ll have to take it more seriously.
The jokes, the videos. I’ll end up distracting the team.
Or letting them down. My parents have been asking lately whether I’m sure I want to keep going with all this, especially with senior year and everything.
I keep telling them yes, but…I don’t know.
Maybe it’s better to quit than face all that. ”
“But you don’t have to move up,” Adrian says, and though his voice is even, I can nearly hear the anxiety in its depths. “You can stay in your boat and keep making the videos.”
“If I did I—” Rohan pauses, and Adrian encourages him onward with a gentle nod. “I would feel like I’m letting you down.”
“Saying no wouldn’t let me down,” Adrian says. “It’s your choice.”
“Plus,” I add, “I don’t think you should give up TikTok.”
Rohan squints at me.
“I’m serious. Remember how I said I suggested you take the spot? Well, it was because of TikTok. Your energy, your enthusiasm, your jokes. I mean, I don’t find them all funny, but the other guys laugh a lot.”
Rohan’s lips twitch. “They aren’t all funny. Sometimes they don’t land.”
I return his smile. “Yeah. Well, I think that’s exactly what the quad needs.
Fun. It’s like my friend Sofi. She doesn’t sit stoke seat, she’s in two.
But she’s the glue that holds the rest of her crew together.
She’s always cheering, even when everyone else is in despair.
She knows that sometimes the best way to get through something tough is to make her friends laugh.
” I should know. She does it with me all the time.
“I think that’s what the quad needs right now, too. ”
Rohan rubs at his thumb, looks at Adrian. “You agree with this?”
“Absolutely,” Adrian says. “Kath is right. What the boat needs is fun. And that’s exactly what your videos can do.”
Rohan wavers for another moment, looking between us, searching for the catch. Reorienting himself, perhaps, to this new reality. I wait, holding my breath.
Then his face breaks into a grin. He tugs his phone from his back pocket. “Can I tell the other guys? I have an idea for how.”
My breath releases in a whoosh. Adrian nearly laughs.
“Yes,” he says. “Tell them we can circle tomorrow on some game plans.”
Rohan flies toward the stairs, phone already aloft.
This situation had nothing to do with me—it was Adrian’s weight to bear—but my muscles are still weak with relief.
It’s like this small corner of the world had tilted for a moment, temporarily thrown off course, and now, with Rohan’s phone squarely back in his hand, everything is upright once more.
I turn to find the full force of Adrian’s approving smile zeroed in on my face. It feels like I’m standing on top of a fucking mountain—air thin and body exuberant with my accomplishment. I’m a junkie for this feeling. It’s a million times better than apple pancakes.
He tugs at my elbow. “Very nice.”
I release myself into the curve of his chest and we twine our fingers together, holding hands as we gaze at the spot Rohan just vacated. “You set up the shot. I just took it.”
“You still found exactly the right thing to say,” Adrian says.
“I only told him the truth.”
“Yeah? You were entirely truthful?”
I swivel to look up at him. “Of course. That’s why it worked.”
Adrian’s lips are pinched like he’s withholding a victorious smile. “So, you’re ready to admit that having fun is good for training?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“Because I think it means you’re ready for something else.”
“What? Even more fun?”
“No,” Adrian says. “I think you’re ready for a challenge.”