Chapter 34

Nao’s silent treatment didn’t stop the next day. I don’t know how we managed it, but we worked alongside each other without exchanging a word for the next two, almost three weeks. We were silently collaborating in delivering a masterclass in passive-aggression. If there was something I needed Nao to know during coaching sessions, I would figure out a way to include it in the instructions I yelled to my boys. She would do the same thing to her girls. In the office we would each add a little too much detail to our comments in the training or maintenance logs the staff used, knowing that the other would read it. As a last resort we would send a runner from our squads to each other to pass on information or instructions, coming up with excuses like ‘my voice is going’ or ‘I need to work with Mark here. While I’m doing that, could you let Coach MacRae know that... ‘

It would have been a hilarious montage in a screwball romantic comedy, except there was no romance, no comedy, and it felt like the only person getting screwed was me. And not in the fun way either.

It wasn’t unnoticed by our co-workers, but it was completely misinterpreted.

“We seriously need to have a staff meeting about people bringing cat food into work,” said Tim, our head coach. I was sitting in the tiny kitchen cum break room that had been walled off in an odd corner of the pool’s administration area and reception counter, eating a late lunch. He sat down across from me, wrinkling his nose. “How can you eat that stuff?”

I paused, with a fork full of mackerel fillet halfway between the can and my mouth.

“Like this,” I said, putting it into my mouth and chewing luxuriously. I swallowed and grinned. “Protein, omega threes ... and they’re canned in olive oil, so I have the bonus of keeping my coat glossy and smooth. You should try it.” I raised my eyebrows, looking pointedly at Tim’s receding hairline and thinning pate. He laughed.

“I might be a bit past that point. Just triple bag the can when you finish with it - God knows this place stinks enough sometimes. We don’t need to add stinky fish to the mix.” He put hands together in front of him. He looked at me, seriously this time. “Jimmy, I wanted to talk to you about your junior squad.”

I finished chewing and swallowed.

“Okay.” This didn’t sound good.

“Look, you know that we’ve been very happy with your work since you joined us on staff. I’m very happy. Not just because we can point to an Olympic medallist in our club, but because you’re really good with the juniors. I mean, you and Julia meshed really well together. You were a really good team, you know?”

I did know. But I could see where this was going. If he was setting up a comparison, I knew what the result of this conversation would be. Tim continued on.

“I mean, you and Julia were a really, really good team. Which is why I’m so surprised at your work since Nao came on staff.” He shook his head, and my mouth went dry. “I really can’t believe it, but you and Nao have locked in like a machine.”

I blinked, surprised. I was preparing myself for a formal warning at best, or a wrap up of my contract at worst. Nao and I worked terribly together. We worked alongside each other, but not together.

“How do you figure?”

“Well, the junior squads have never run so smoothly. I never hear an argument or a complaint out of either of you. In fact, you hardly seem to say a word to each other but just work together so well. The kids are happy. Their parents are happy. That idea you guys had about making the kids do the changing rooms tidy at the end of training - brilliant. The cleaning staff haven’t complained since. And the results in the pool are some of the best we’ve had in quite a few years.” He looked at me. “Seriously. I was going over the sprint timings from last week. Even allowing for some sloppy stopwatch work, once the season starts up, we’re gonna have some interesting meets all around.”

I shrugged.

“That’s just the kids settling down and reaching decent condition. I can’t really take much credit.”

“I think you should. I’ve been doing this for twenty years. I don’t give compliments unwarranted. You’re doing really well with the boys, and Nao is doing great with the girls. I think we’re gonna see some great representation of our club in the regional squads after the local season finishes, and I’m sure we’ll see a few slots at the state level. I fully expect to get some phone calls about national development for at least two of these kids. And it wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for you.” He looked at me, sitting there a little shell-shocked. “Jimmy,” he said slowly. “That was a compliment.”

“Okay, Tim. Thanks. You’re the boss.”

“Damn straight,” he grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for making me look good.”

I laughed weakly. He got up to leave, and turned back just as he reached the door. “One other thing, Jimmy. Could you just hurry up and ask her out? It’s put-up or shut-up time.”

“Sorry?”.

“Nao. You’ve been checking her out enough that it’s starting to get borderline creepy. I’d be expecting her to file a harassment complaint but she’s side-eyeing you as much as you’re looking at her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Look, I’m just saying what everybody is thinking. If you’re interested in her, ask her out. You let it go too long, you’ll pass that window of opportunity, and it will just end up being weird. And if you’re thinking of waiting until we send you off to regionals or states to take advantage of the hotel rooms to hook up, our budgeting this year has us in dorms in hostels; you’ll each be rooming with the kids. You’re just going to have to man up and ask her. But maybe wait until you’ve brushed your teeth or had a mint or something.” He looked pointedly at the mackerel tin in front of me, laughed and walked off to his office.

It turned out that our co-workers weren’t the only ones reading the air. It was a Thursday night. That was our last evening training session of the week for the juniors. They would come back for four hours on Saturday morning, but Tim in his infinite wisdom had given them Friday morning and night off.

“They need the space to do stupid teenage things,” he explained. When queried as to what if those stupid teenaged things involved getting shitfaced on a Friday night, he had shrugged and replied “That’s why they’re in the pool at eight on a Saturday morning. They’ll only be stupid enough to try it once.”

Nao and I would have the future talent from four in the afternoon until eight in the evening. We would start with some conditioning exercises, move into some laps to provide feedback on form, and then sometimes finish off with some face-off sprints. That had been the formula this night until...