People not in the know seem to think swimmers and water polo players are basically the same thing simply because both sports fall under the umbrella of aquatics.
They aren’t the same.
In my experience, swimmers and water polo players hardly even hang out with each other. That’s probably why I hadn’t known a whole lot about Leo other than the fact that he’d held our school’s record in the two-hundred-yard individual medley and the one-hundred-yard fly. I’d known only because the school paper plastered his name all over the sports section every week during swim season. But on the first night we hung out together after the Fourth of July, I also learned Leo held California state records and wanted to swim in college as much as I wanted to play water polo. He was already being courted by Division 1 schools and was hoping to get scholarship money as well.
It certainly felt like he’d earned such an opportunity after I heard his workout schedule. It was way more intense than mine for water polo. He went from five to seven a.m., Monday through Friday. Plus he worked out for two hours with the school’s swim team in the afternoon during the three months of swim season and, twice a week, two more hours with his club swim team in the evening. His weekend schedule varied depending on meets, but, in general, he worked out twice a day on Saturdays and had Sundays off.
Leo lived to swim.
“And I thought I was made up of fifty percent chlorine,” I said as I wound my chopsticks through the sheen of my ramen broth, creating a kind of eddy so my noodles would be more secure before I slurped them into my mouth. We’d gone to a restaurant by the mall so we could see a movie after. It was a lot for someone with Leo’s schedule to pack into one night. “How are you even here right now? How are you awake?”
He gathered his noodles with his chopsticks. “I really wanted to be here so . . . I planned ahead.”
“What do you mean?”
“I swam for three hours this morning instead of two so I’d only have to do one hour this evening. That way, I could go to dinner with you. And a movie. Plus it’s summer. I got to take a nap.”
“I’m flattered?”
He laughed. “Good.”
“But wait.” I set my chopsticks across the top of my bowl and studied him. “I don’t remember you sneaking off for swim practice on the Fourth of July. Did I miss something?”
“Well, yeah. It was a national holiday. I get national holidays off.”
“So you’re like a mail carrier.”
He laughed. “Pretty much. They’re the ones with that motto about delivering letters through rain or sleet or snow or blazing hot sun, right?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Might as well be a swim motto.”
“Polo, too.” I felt such camaraderie in that moment. Like Leo was someone who would always understand me. “Actually, no. Polo is only twice a day.” I added up the hours in my head. “You spend six hours in the pool some days. That’s brutal.”
“I only do the triple workouts during high school swim season.” He added some heat to his ramen by taking a spoonful of rayu from the metal jar at the edge of the table. “Otherwise it’s only twice a day.”
“Can I ask you something?”
He mixed the chili oil into his broth with his chopsticks. “I think so.”
“Why even bother with the school swim team? It’s not like they’re that good. Why not just focus on club?”
“Now you sound like my parents. Have you been talking to them? Conspiring against me?” He smiled.
“Nope. I promise.” I crossed my heart.
He took a sip of water. “I look at swim team like it’s the one thing I can do to feel like I’m part of something at school. Otherwise, I’m only there for classes.” He bit into his soft-boiled egg. Chewed. Swallowed. “I mean, I guess I could run for ASB or something, but I don’t exactly have the time. Swimming is something I’m good at, so why not just do that? And then I can actually feel like I’m having a sliver of a high school experience.”
“That makes sense.” And then, “So not much of a social life for you, huh?”
“Not a stellar one.” He grinned at me. “But I’m hoping it just got better.”