Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Truth - Grace
Ilook for McCall on the student union terrace after my literature classes.
She said she had some news to tell me. I know she had her meeting with her digital-content advisor, and I can’t wait to hear what she said.
I also can’t wait to tell her what Wyatt told me after our class.
About his idea for Twenty Together. His willingness to be on the record.
A lump forms in my throat whenever I think about what Wyatt said. I actually cried when he told me. I can’t believe he’s doing all of this to support me and the other athletes who are potentially at risk.
I know his dad will be furious when he finds out. But he told me he doesn’t care. Wyatt is just like me, ready to reclaim all parts of his life, and this shows the incredible man—and leader—he is.
I open the door to the terrace and eagerly look around for McCall. I spot her sitting at a table next to the railing, drinking an iced matcha. I hurry toward her and pull out the chair as soon as I reach the table. “Hey!” I say, sitting down. “What’s going on?”
A catlike grin spreads across her face. “Jax and I have been very busy this morning. We sent an email to Davenport’s office, asking if it’s true that sports are on the chopping block, and whether the school planned to even give these sports a chance to fundraise, or shuffle budgets, before shutting them down. We said we have two inside sources.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, feeling hopeful.
“Yeah. They haven’t answered yet. Jax and I are going to run an article on Wednesday about this potential scenario, and we’re using your photos from the swimmers’ locker room and comparing them with photos from inside the football and hockey facilities, as well as the dining facility.
Do we need custom chairs with shark logos engraved in them for the dining hall when you can’t even get a decent nozzle in your shower? No!”
“So you guys are going all in.”
“Oh yes, we are,” McCall says, sounding satisfied.
“We’re going to stay on them. The school TV network is on it, too, and they’ll run with the piece Jax and I are working on.
We have budget numbers, and of course, we know exactly how much was spent on the new hockey facilities.
Thanks to our school network, we have images of how it has everything they could ever want, and you have an outdated, damaged facility.
I’m sure other facilities are just as bad.
I’m not saying they should be the same as hockey, but you deserve so much more.
And I have a hard time believing the money can’t be found for that in light of the facilities the major teams have. ”
“I have something,” I say. “Wyatt is willing to speak on the record. About the hockey facilities and his thoughts about his fellow athletes losing their sports. And there’s more. He’s talking to Luca about forming Twenty Together. All the athletes standing together to keep all the sports at OCU.”
“Are you serious?” McCall gasps.
I nod. “Yes. He’s talking to Luca today. Luca knows the captains for the other teams, so he’ll contact them, too. If football is onboard, then basketball, it’s going to be a real bad look for the athletic department.”
“This is fucking brilliant!” McCall says, picking up her phone. “Can I tell this to Jax?”
“Yes, but hold on Twenty Together until Wy talks to Luca.”
She nods and begins typing. “Luca will do it. He was amazing when I interviewed him. I’ll talk to him again about this, too.” McCall puts her phone down and looks at me. “You know, when I first met you, I never would have seen this in you.”
“I wouldn’t have done any of this,” I confess.
“I am taking back my life. I’m not going to lose swimming.
I’m going to major in fashion media. I stood up to my mom, who has always pushed literature on me, to be myself.
And I said I didn’t have time for love, but I decided I wanted that, too.
I’ve been on quite the journey, and we’ve only been back here for a month! ”
McCall looks thoughtfully at me. “I didn’t know that about your mom. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t talk about it. But now I can.” I realize now that opening up to Wyatt has given me the courage to open up to others, too.
“I’m not a fan of relationships, but love really looks good on you,” McCall says.
I smile. “I recommend it. Maybe you should try it.”
McCall makes a face. “Oh no, no, no. My parents hooked up in college, accidentally fell in stupid, all-encompassing love, didn’t look at another soul, got married, and were miserable until they divorced when I was four. I know I don’t need that.”
“Well, that’s a fair point, but I thought the same thing. What if you meet someone truly exceptional? What if you miss out on someone great because of this rule?”
“Okay, you hit the jackpot with Wyatt. I’d pull that slot machine and end up screwed.” She picks up her phone again and glances at it. “I’ve got to run to class. I’ll keep you updated, and you do the same, okay?”
I nod. “Thank you, McCall.”
“The thanks goes both ways. Thank you for trusting me with this story. It’s a big one, and it’s good for me, too.” She picks up her tote bag, slings it over her shoulder, and walks off.
I take a breath and exhale. I can feel the momentum is going our way. I think people are going to be surprised about the extreme disparity in the way athletes are treated. And if Wyatt can get all the teams on board—or at least the big men’s sports?
That makes a huge statement, and a bunch of unwanted bad publicity for the athletic department.
I feel two things at once. Sad that the athletic department is entertaining these ideas without even having a conversation with the affected programs, but at the same time, hope.
Hopeful that all of us coming together to speak out, to ask for a chance, to demand the opportunity to fundraise or find funds within existing budgets, will make a difference.
And so much love for Wyatt.
My phone rings. I freeze. My family are the only people that call me. And I haven’t spoken to Mom since our argument.
I flip it over, and my eyes widen when I see it’s my dad. I gather my courage and answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, Grace,” Dad says. “Can you talk?”
I gaze out over the railing, at the students walking back and forth along the path, wondering how many of them have their own crazy issues with family. “Sure,” I say. “I have another class, but it’s not until later this afternoon.”
“Okay.” He pauses for a moment. “Grace, I’m really disappointed in how you not only talked to your mom but haven’t even reached out to apologize.”
Blood rushes to my head. Normally whenever someone accuses me of disappointing them, I feel sick. Downright ill at the thought of letting anyone down or not meeting expectations.
But not this time.
I’m ready to not disappoint myself.
“Dad, I’m going to speak freely to you,” I say softly, although I really don’t care if anyone hears this conversation. “I told Mom I wanted to major in fashion media, not literature. I know this isn’t what she wanted—”
“Your mom wants what is in your best future interest,” Dad interjects.
“No. Mom wants me to live the dream she has. It was never mine, Dad. Never.”
“Grace. Fashion writing? That doesn’t have job stability written all over it.”
“And novel writing does? That’s ridiculous, Dad. And you know it.”
“Not if you’re an immensely talented author.”
“Which I’m not! I won one short-story contest. One! And I haven’t been inspired to write anything since.”
“Your mom says you are afraid to put yourself out there an—”
“Dad, I’m going to tell you how I feel. What I know is true for myself.
I love fashion and writing about it. I’ve discovered that here at OCU, and I have to explore it.
I love artistic swimming, and if you and Mom would have listened to me, you would have heard the passion in my voice when I talked about it.
If you had paid attention during competitions, you would have seen the joy on my face after I did a performance.
You would have encouraged that and nurtured it, which you did with paying for lessons, but I could have used your words, too,” I say, my voice cracking a little bit around the edges.
He remains silent. I swallow hard, gather my thoughts for a second, and continue.
“Dad. I’m learning so many things about myself here, just like you and Mom did when you met here all those years ago.
But I can’t do what Mom wants because those are her dreams for me.
I know she loves me, but she has to love me enough to let me have my own dreams and follow them. Because that’s what I intend to do.”
More silence.
“This is who I am,” I say, my voice breaking further. “I’m Grace. I’m an artistic swimmer. Fashion writer. Sorority sister. I love all those pieces of me, and I want you to love all those pieces, too.”
“Sweetheart,” Dad finally says, his voice thick, “of course we do. I—I never knew how much I let you down with artistic swimming. I just thought if I showed up at competitions, that was enough.”
“Dad, I know you’re busy, but it would have meant the world to me if you would have learned a few things about it. And Mom is pressuring me to give it up because I’m not good enough to go to the Olympic trials—”
“What are you talking about?”
I blink. Did Dad not know this?
“Mom thinks I’m wasting my time with it.”
“But you’re good at it!”
“Even if I were horrible at it, I enjoy it,” I point out quietly.
I can tell Dad is trying to absorb this, but I go on. “Mom has encouraged me to drop it because it might interfere with fiction writing, which I don’t even want to do.”
“I … I don’t know what to say.”
“Dad. Part of this is my fault. I should have spoken up for myself long ago. Made my feelings clear. About swimming. About writing. I had to find the courage to do it. And that’s what I’m doing now. I have the courage to tell you what I’m going to do.”
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t know you felt like this.”
“It’s okay, I didn’t tell you. But I’m telling you now.”
“And I hear you.” Dad stops for a moment, then continues. “I will talk to your mom, too.”
I begin to feel my stress unwind. “I would really appreciate that.”
“You sound like a different girl than the one who drove off last month to go back to school.”
I smile. “You have no idea.”
And then we talk. We talk like we haven’t talked in forever. I tell Dad about Wyatt. About the movement to save the sports that might have their programs discontinued. I can hear surprise in his voice, and when I bring up fighting to save the sports teams, I hear something else from him.
Pride.
And it makes me so happy, I could cry tears for a completely different reason this time.
We end the call, and I stare down at my phone in shock. I can’t believe all the things I’m doing.
All because I found the courage to be brave. To be myself.
I pick up my phone again, and this time, I tap open my email. Again, something I rarely use personally, just for some school stuff. But I’m a writer, and Mom is a reader and writer. This is going to be the language in which to reach her.
So I write a long email to my mom. I tell her everything I said to Dad.
Own up to my part in this, not speaking up when I was hurt, how I took the easy way out and tried to follow the path she laid out for me.
I tell her who I really am and ask her to love me as this person.
I talk about Wyatt and the athletic department situation and tell her that, most of all, no matter what she might think, I do love her.
I reread it a few times, tweak a few things, and then I hit send.