IV– Mr Phaine is a Living Legend

"Morning Squirt," said her dad cheerfully as she unlocked the front door. 

"Hey Dad," she hoisted herself onto a chair next to him, "what's cooking?" 

"Eggs," said her dad, "and bacon rolls." 

"Sounds great," she pulled a plate towards herself and tucked into a roll with a bite slightly larger than her mouth. 

Her Dad snorted at her as she chewed but he looked happy that she was eating. "You're hungry this morning, therapy can't possibly have been that stimulating, was it?" 

"Marie said I can go back to school when it starts," she said cheerfully with her mouth full of bacon and eggs. "She says normality is good." 

He nodded his smile widening, "well I have to agree with Marie there, you should keep doing everything you want to to the best of your ability kiddo, no point rotting indoors." 

Vesper nodded in agreement. "I don't think Mum agrees" she said quietly. 

Her Dad sighed and rubbed his temple. He had been in the middle of this debate several times over the last month, "your mum is just worried Squirt, give her time, she'll come around." 

"I'm the one who should be stressed and worried!" she protested, "it's not fair Dad." 

"I know Squirt, but you're very different to your Mum, she's just processing but I'm sure she'll come around after she hears what Marie said. She just wants what's best for you." 

She nodded and swallowed a chunk of roll, eggs, and bacon. 

"I know, I guess, it's just hard when it feels like she's making decisions for me." 

"It's not that she's trying to make decisions for you squirt it's that she knows how determined you are with your grades and your swimming. She's worried you'll push too hard." 

"If I'm going to work in space and astronomy I need to go to school Dad." Vesper swung her foot irritably under the table and chewed on another bite of roll. 

"You're hungry this morning," said her dad with a surprised but pleased expression. 

"Food helps when I'm frustrated," Vesper gestured vaguely and put more sauce on her breakfast. 

"Seems a healthy coping mechanism," her dad teased her and she pouted with a smudge of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. 

"Healthier than Mum's bubble wrap the world approach," she shot back a little more unkindly than necessary. 

Her dad put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders. "I'll talk to her kiddo okay? But truly, she just needs time." 

"I don't have time!" Vesper protested and there was a long silence. 

Her dad looked at her with an unreadable expression for a moment and then gently bumped her shoulder with his. 

"You want to go swimming champ?" Six words and the dark cloud over the table vanished replaced with sun. If it was her mum's style to bubble wrap the scenario then this was her dad's, he was the king of using normality to deflate a situation. 

Vesper sat with her milkshake in the cafe afterwards and ate her way around the cherry pit in small bites the way she always did. You're not supposed to eat ice cream after swimming according to her mum as it would give you chills. This was one of the many things that she and her dad blatantly ignored when they were out alone. Ice cream after swimming was worth the risk of chills. She munched with her spoon and sat watching the kids training. Sometimes this would've depressed her to no end, but today the group were the juniors of club and she hadn't been in that class for years so the jealously she usually felt to her fellow teammates in the water was lessened. 

She opened up her notebook and dutifully scribbled down her times, a habit she was trying to stay in despite – well despite the times not looking that pretty on paper. 

50m fly – best – 27:43 – now – 30:15 

100m fly – best – 59:01 – now – 1:02:29 

200m fly – best – 2:18:16 – now – 2:27:43 

Her times getting worse wasn't exactly a comfort to her but at least if she kept track of it she knew how many seconds she needed to catch back up. Whether or whether not she could catch it back up was beyond the point, she had to believe that she could. 

Vesper stared at the numbers as if by looking at them intensely enough she could make them spin down, like a casino wheel, or a stop watch. She tapped her pen rhythmically against the page as she thought, her milkshake slowly melting by her elbow as she pondered the numbers. Her dad opposite her stayed silent, he knew it wasn't just about seconds—it was about what those seconds represented – or rather what the difference in those seconds represented. The month she'd spent on the sidelines, the way her muscles still burned after a session, the careful way people spoke around her like she might break. She hated it. She wanted to be back where she was before. No—she wanted to be better than before, but with every digit that gap increased the more that possibility seemed to slowly slide between her fingers like the ice cream now running down the side of her glass. 

Her dad was watching her over his coffee. "How did that feel then?" Never 'how do you feel?' that was too personal. 

Vesper considered the page for a couple more seconds. She considered giving one of her patented neutral responses but she knew her dad would see through her and, even if he didn't pry, she knew he'd be disappointed if she brushed him off. 

"Tired," she admitted. "Frustrated. Slow." 

"You don't look slow to me," he said, nodding toward the pool. "You're here champ, you're still working at it. That's what matters." 

"Being here isn't enough," she muttered, closing her notebook with a snap that punctuated the end of her sentence for her. 

Her dad sighed, but he didn't push. Instead, he gestured to her milkshake. "You gonna eat that, or are you too busy scheming?" 

Vesper rolled her eyes and ate another few spoonfuls, gulping the melting ice cream and fruit down a little more violently than necessary. 

A shadow fell over their table. 

"Hey, stranger." 

Vesper looked up and very nearly closed her eyes in visible frustration. She hadn't seen her teammate in weeks. They'd exchanged texts, sure, but nothing of real importance. If she'd wanted to see her she would've arranged to meet up for a coffee, or a swim. And now here she was, standing in her club warm-ups, dripping from a session Vesper should have been part of. 

"Hey," Vesper managed, wiping her hand on her hoodie pocket very aware she was wearing her club hoodie despite not having attended the session. She wanted to sink into her seat, she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole, she wanted to be back on the side of the pool and able to dive under the cool water and out of earshot and eyeline. She tapped her fingers off her knee subconsciously. 

Her teammate's (ex-teammate she reminded herself) eyes flicked down to the notebook Vesper had re-opened. "Tracking your times?" 

Vesper rapidly swept a hand over the pages and closed it again to hide the little table of numbers, but she nodded. No point lying, she knew everyone already thought she was weird for vanishing, she couldn't sink any lower in the crappy colourful plastic cafe chair she sat on. 

Her teammate pulled out a chair without asking and sat backward on it, arms folded over the top. "You're being too hard on yourself. You've only been out a month, how much time can you possibly have lost?" 

"I'm being realistic." Vesper kicked her foot awkwardly against the floor, incredibly well aware of her father watching the exchange silently. 

"You're being dramatic," her teammate corrected. "I bet you're still faster than half the club, and you haven't even been training properly." 

Vesper frowned. "It doesn't matter how the time compares to the rest of the squad; it matters how it compares to me." 

Her teammate shrugged, pushing damp hair from her face. "You'll get it back, when your ankle is healed." 

It was meant to be reassuring, but all it did was make Vesper's stomach twist. Maybe if it was as simple as the lie she had told the team, that she'd sprained her ankle, her teammate's easy words would've soothed her nerves. Vesper unfortunately however, knew she was a filthy liar and was faced with a much more worryingly permanent question. What if she didn't? 

Her dad must have sensed the shift in mood because he clapped his hands together and stood up. "Right Ves I have to get off to work shall we get back?" 

Vesper jumped at the chance almost knocking her chair over she stood up so quickly. She snatched up her notebook and nodded. "Yeah, thanks dad let's go." 

Her teammate glanced at her with a slightly odd expression but raised her hand lazily as Vesper started to walk away. "See you back at training soon once you're all healed up." 

Vesper made a noncommittal sound as she walked away but she awkwardly raised her hand back. "Yeah, yeah right – see you soon." 

The walk to the car was silent but Vesper was sure her agitation could light a match. She tapping her fingers off her notebook and stared ahead pulling the sleeves of her swim team hoodie over her hands. Her dad didn't start the engine right away. He just sat there, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

"Who was that?" he said neutrally as if he'd been planning the question between the building and the driver's seat. 

"Sophie," Vesper stared at herself in the wing mirror out the window. "She was in squad with me." 

"It was nice of her to come and chat," her dad was probing, only gently though. Vesper said nothing, she just stared out as spots of rain started to form on the wing mirror's surface. 

"You want to talk about what happened in there?" he asked in response to her silence. Her dad never pushed, he simply enquired. 

"Not really," she sighed, "I don't think it would change anything." 

He nodded, like he'd expected that from her – which he probably had -and then started the car. 

The ride home was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the occasional turn signal. Vesper tapped her fingers on her thigh, she wanted to go straight back to the pool and swim more, but she could already feel the drain on her muscles beginning to burn like a heater left on low. She knew she was heading back to an inevitable conversation with her mum filled with well-meaning platitudes about how she should 'take it easy' and how 'she couldn't expect that much from herself anymore.' Vesper shook her head quietly, she hated having conversations like that, they shortened her life spam. 

When they pulled into the driveway, her dad shifted back in his seat to look at her properly. 

"You handled that well Squirt." 

Vesper stayed quiet for a moment but then she shook her head her shoulders feeling heavy but whether that was from exhaustion, emotion, or a combination of the two she didn't know. "I ran away." 

"You left the situation before it got too overwhelming for you," her dad corrected her. "That's not the same thing." Her father had definitely read some therapy books in the last week from the amount of buzzwords he was dropping but how could she blame him, she wouldn't know what to say if she was in his position either. 

She huffed a small breath from between her teeth but didn't argue. 

"Champ," he said softly, "you don't have to prove anything to anyone. Swimming is to focus and strengthen you right now, not to make you start pushing at one hundred percent again." 

Vesper slumped back in her seat, crossing her arms, "but I want to prove to myself I can still do it, that I'm still – me." 

Her dad sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know Champ." 

That wasn't the answer she wanted. 

"Why did you lie about your ankle?" He queried after a beat. 

"I didn't want to lose my spot in the squad." 

Her dad looked at her and his face softened, he reached over and ruffled her hair before she could duck away, and then pulled her into a quick hug. "C'mon, Squirt. Let's get inside before your mum thinks I let you 'over work' yourself." He put 'over work' in air quotes and it drew a small smile out of Vesper. She rolled her eyes but followed him inside the house.