Chapter 27

“Hello? I say, hello? We have arrived at the Village.”

I blinked. The driver was standing in front of me, and the bus was empty. I’d blanked the entire return bus ride, and evidently not realised it was time to disembark.

“Oh, uh, thanks. Uh, danke.” I stood up stiffly. The driver looked at me quizzically.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’m ... I’m fine.” I grabbed my bag. “Just lost in my thoughts, you know.”

The driver smiled.

“Well then. Enjoy your evening.”

“Yes, you too.”

He moved back to his seat in front of the steering wheel as I slowly stepped off the bus. The sky was still blue, but pale as the sun was hugging the horizon on the warm European summer evening. I slung my bag over my shoulder and sighed.

Nao’s eyes.

Even though it had been mere seconds, I knew she’d recognised me, the same as I’d recognised her. After the conversation with my parents, I had dug in and focussed. I’d learned a lot of things over the last five years, and that included how to shut out distractions and compartmentalise. The thought of seeing Nao again had been a pretty big distractor but I had managed to put it aside. Until now when a chance passing of two buses had put her right back in front of me again.

Nao’s eyes.

They were gorgeous, just as I remembered them. And as she had looked directly into mine, hers had widened. Surprise? Shock? I decided to go with ‘surprise’ and forced myself not to read anything more into it. I had a final tomorrow and a chance to win a medal.

I felt a little off. Was it the nerves of going into an Olympic final? Did seeing Nao unnerve me that much? My arms, shoulders and legs felt much tighter than usual. I wanted nothing more than to eat a mountain of carbs and crash into bed for twelve hours, but I knew I needed to follow my coaching staff’s directions.

I walked stiffly to the building our team mission was housed in, went up to the room I shared with Toby and dropped off my bag. I looked longingly at my comfortable bed before sighing and changing into shorts and a muscle shirt and heading down to the small training gym. Our mission had employed a roster of local physiotherapists for the duration of the Games, and getting a session was as easy as writing my name in a blank spot on the notice board. I had forty-five minutes until my slot came up, so I grabbed a gym towel from the stack near the door, did some stretches and jogged casually for twenty minutes before moving over to do some light repetitions with hand weights on a swiss ball. I could feel my neck and shoulders loosening up a little, but I was still wound tight. I racked the weights and moved over to the padded floor area where I used the swiss ball to do some lumbar stretches.

“James?”

I heard my name called by a lightly accented female voice. I sat up from where I was stretched out backwards over the large inflatable ball. Standing at the whiteboard was a brunette wearing a light blue polo shirt and black leggings. “James,” she said again, only this time as confirmation.

“James Connor. That’s me,” I said, standing up. I grabbed my towel from where I’d been lying across the ball, rolled the ball back against the wall and walked over to her.

“I’m Angela.” She pronounced it in the Germanic way, like a geometric angle rather than the biblical type. I’ll be your therapist this evening. I can see you must have some back issues from the way you were rolling away there. Anything else?”

“Hi Angela. Mainly my back and shoulders, but I’m feeling it a bit in my legs as well.”

“All right. Let’s see what we can do for you.” With a tilt of her head, she indicated I should follow her. As she turned, I couldn’t help noticing the hem of her blue polo had folded a little and was resting across the top of a delightfully plump but firm-looking posterior. I followed her into the treatment room. A long massage table filled most of the space, with a low bench against the wall. The bench held a pile of white towels, and an electric water bath in which stood a number of bottles filled with liquids of varying shades of brown and yellow. There was another door, partially open, through which I could see tiles; a small bathroom.

Angela indicated I should take a seat on the treatment table and picked up a clipboard. As she started making notes, she asked “Swimmer?”.

“Uh, yes,” I replied slowly. Her longish hair was gathered up into a rough twist and held at the back of her head with a large clip. A few wisps escaped around her ears and curled against her slim neck.

“I guessed from your build. I’m sorry,” she said. “We’re so busy, I hardly have time to follow any events and I’m not familiar with everyone on your team. Obviously, you swam today?”

“Yeah. Semi-finals for two-hundred butterfly. I came second.”

“Congratulations!” she said with a smile. “But now you are feeling a little strain?”

“Well, not sure if it’s an actual strain, but everything feels a bit stiff. I did a light run and some weights and stretches but I still feel a bit restricted, particularly in my shoulders and back.”

“Okay,” she said, making notes on the clipboard. “But everything else seems okay? No particular pain anywhere?”

“Nope.”

“All right. So, I will work on your back and shoulders, and do some light lymphatic work on your arms and legs. Is oil okay, or do you prefer it dry?”

“Oil is fine.”

“Okay then, James.” She handed me a large towel from the pile on the bench. “I will step out for a few minutes while you get ready. Remove your shirt and socks and shoes. You can remove your shorts if you wish, or I can work around them. Cover yourself with the towel and I will be back in a few minutes.” Angela left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

I leant down and undid my shoes. I slipped off my socks and poked them inside my shoes and placed them under the bench against the wall. I took off my shirt, folded it and placed it on the bench along with my accreditation lanyard. After a moment’s thought I slipped off my shorts and underwear, folded them and put them under my shirt.

I wrapped the towel loosely around my waist and lay face down on the massage table with my arms along my sides. It was one of those tables with a cut-out so you could breathe but keep your face pointing straight down. I lay there for a moment before there was a gentle knock at the door.

“Okay, James?” Angela called softly.
“All good,” I called back. From my prone position on the massage table, I heard the door open and felt the soft breeze as she closed it again with a hard click. I heard Angela walk over to the bench against the wall and after a moment, her trainer-clad feet came into view through the hole in the table.

“I’m going to loosen your towel, okay?” she said quietly. I grunted my assent and rolled my hips slightly as she opened the towel and pulled it out from under me to lie across my buttocks. I heard soft shuffling as she moved around a little, and then she spoke again. “I’ll start by palpitating your shoulders and upper back, okay? Let me know if anything hurts. Angela pressed her fingertips into my trapezoids, following the line down and pushing in around the scapula on both sides. After a few minutes she took my left arm and drew it away from my body. Holding my hand in hers, she slowly moved my outstretched arm through the full range of motion whilst she prodded the area behind my shoulder and under my armpit. Despite her firm fingers pushing into my back, her grip on my hand was surprisingly gentle and I had a sudden urge to curl my fingers and entwine them with hers.

Of course, I didn’t, but analysing that urge caused another involuntary action and I felt myself thicken against the massage table. She returned my left arm and moved around to repeat the action with my right arm. She hummed a little as she returned my right arm to my side.

“Okay, nothing too bad,” she said. “You are quite tight across the shoulders with a few knots that are probably more from tension than anything else. There’s no issue with range of movement either.” She paused for a moment. “You swam the semi-final today, yes?”

“Yes,” I replied. “The final is tomorrow.”

“There you go,” she said with a soft laugh. “So, your tightness is probably due to exertion from today and anticipation for tomorrow. Understandable. Let’s see what we can do for you.” I heard soft rustling as she moved over to the bench and then back again. “You’ll feel the oil in a moment,” she explained. “It’s a little warmer than body temperature.” I felt it trickle between my shoulders and run a little down my back to pool above my waist, then I felt Angela’s hands as she began to thin the oil across my shoulders.