Martini With a Twist

Chapter 3

I saunter into the master bath and turn on the shower. I grab a towel from the linen closet and hang it on a hook outside the shower door. A hook, which I am proud to say, I attached myself. The shower is starting to steam up and I open the door and step inside. I don’t take too much time, just the basics right now. I step out and grab a towel. I wrap it around my body and walk over to the tub. I sit down on the ledge off the side and just relax for a moment.

As I watch the water drip off my bare legs, I am thinking about Declan, s*x with Declan, love with Declan, life with Declan. Is this what it’s all about? It seems colorless, the s*x, the relationship. I feel as though I am just going through the motions sometimes. The s*x feels so dutiful. I can’t help but contemplate what would happen if we broke up. Sometimes I really don’t like being in the limelight. It would be all over some magazine cover. And poor Declan, he deserves better. He certainly deserves someone who knows how to love, who is capable of love. I am not sure that ‘someone’ is me. He deserves better, I feel like maybe I should break up with him. I need to think this over, talk it out with someone. Julie! I should call her, she has just been so busy with work, I don’t want to bother her, but she’s my best friend, she’ll understand. Maybe she will meet me for a drink tonight. Maybe we should go to RPM. I can feel the excitement at the possibility of that woman being there. What is going on with me? Ugh! I have to get ready, mom hates when I’m late.

After blow-drying my hair, applying makeup and finally settling on an outfit-an oversized, cowl neck sweater and my favorite pair of Lucky Brand jeans, I am on my way to lunch. I know my mom will undoubtedly criticize my wardrobe choice, always telling me that I need to invest in a personal shopper. “You may be one of the most talented swimmers alive but when it comes to style, you have absolutely zero, my dear,” she has said to me on a number of occasions. Of course, her idea of style is at total odds with my sense of style but still, she may have a point. I own exactly three nice dresses, one of which I wore last night with Declan. I know I should take more of an interest in fashion given the many appearances I make on talk shows and publicity events, but I am just more comfortable in jeans. Plus I am still getting used to being in the limelight. And it’s not like I am void of fashion. I enjoy a good pair of skinny jeans and tall boots like the next girl. I am just not sure why I have to be decked out in Christian Loubitins to go grocery shopping.

I take a cab from my place to Bandera and arrive on time. I walk through the door to the restaurant and see my mom, a beautiful woman with my same blonde hair, but shorter and it frames her face just below her chin. She looks really good for a woman of 50. She is sporting her usual pantsuit, today in a soft periwinkle color that makes her blue eyes shimmer. Of course she has her custom made Burberry trench coat draped over her arm along with her matching handbag. I watch her for a moment, speaking to the hostess, and no doubt wondering if I will be late. I see the hostess smile and know my mother has said something about me.

“Hi Mom!” I say behind her and she immediately turns around to hug and kiss me. “Hi dear, how are you?” She scans my outfit, her eyes radiating with disapproval. “Good, I’m starving though!” I say trying to distract her from my ensemble.

“We are ready,” my mom says to the hostess. We follow the hostess to our table, great location of course, in the window overlooking Michigan Ave. My mother has a way of always getting the best of things. She says I should never apologize to anyone for being successful. And I should never feel guilty for being able to afford the best in life. She knows a thing or two about hard work just like me. She is currently the President of a large and very prestigious university. We both take our seats and she stares at me for a moment. The hostess hands me a menu.

“Congratulations on the world record, Miss Keller,” she says with a warm smile. “Thank you very much.” I see my mother smiling from ear to ear, as proud as a mother can be I suppose. The hostess leaves the table and my mother starts our lunch chatter.

“So, we have much to discuss today.” This means someone has called her about a book or an interview of some sort. My mother is very involved with my publicist which is great considering this is all so new to me, not counting the short-lived publicity I received after the ’08 games. Coming off of the more recent 2012 games has been a whirlwind. Anything sensitive that comes up, my mother is the one to ask me or break the news. Sometimes it’s nice to hear things from your mom rather than a publicist. It’s also sometimes harder to say no to your mom.

“Who wants what with me mom?” I begin to unwrap the rolled silverware.

“Well dear, it’s not that simple, Barbara Walters’ people called and they asked if you would do an interview.” She arches a brow.

“Barbara Walters? Wow! That’s awesome! Okay, what’s the catch? Why your hesitation?

It’s Barbara Walters!”

Our server interrupts. “Good afternoon ladies, I’m Josh and I will be your server today.

Can I get you something to drink?” I stick with my water, while my mother orders a glass of white wine. Pinot Grigio of course, so to not assault the palette with alcohol or oak like the other wines do, as my mother likes to say. Her wine choice is always one from the Alsace region in France since that is, of course, where the best grapes come from. My mom, the wine snob. Josh leaves us and I continue.

“Mom, I know you, what is so special about this interview?” I gaze at her intently. “Well, you know she will ask the usual Olympic questions, training, eating, traveling, Declan etc.”

“Yes, go on, I see where this is going I think.”

“And she wants to talk about, Emily.” She adds cautiously, taking a sip of her water. “Absolutely not!” I raise my voice. “There is no negotiation on this mom! You know that!”

“Yes darling I know, I know, but its Barbara Walters not some small town high school kid interviewing you for the school paper. You and I have talked about how someday you may have to be open and be willing to discuss this with someone publicly.” The server drops off my mother’s glass of wine.

“Are you ladies ready to order?” he asks politely.

Without even looking at my menu, I already know I want the cheeseburger with fries.

One of my cheats before my training starts up again. My mother orders the Cobb salad with the dressing on the side. The server takes our menus and departs.

“I really don’t care who it is mom, I don’t have to talk to anyone about anything that I don’t want to. In fact, it was you who reiterated that with me when I was younger. You said I didn’t have to talk about anything I was uncomfortable with. Well, I am uncomfortable with this topic. Why the sudden change?”

“I thought if you were going to discuss this with anyone, Walters would be a great opportunity. She is a veteran at this Addie, she…”

“She what mom? She makes people cry! She has a way of making people bare their soul for the whole world to see. I am not doing it, end of discussion.” We sit in silence for a moment. “I know you miss her Addie, we all do. Everyday I look at her picture and I think of how proud she must be of you.”

“Enough mom, enough.” My mom takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “Okay, honey, okay.”

I take a long drink of my water and can feel her just watching me, maybe even feeling guilty for asking me to do the interview.

“Addie, I do hope if the nightmares are still bothering you, you will tell me?” I contemplate this before answering. I am not sure what to tell my mom here. I don’t want her to worry but my latest nightmare had something extra, something different. I choose not to concern her right now. I should be able to handle this for now given the years of therapy I have endured.

“Of course, mom, I would tell you. I’m fine for now. Can we change the subject?” She obliges with a head nod.

“So, you went out with Declan last night?” She mercifully changes topic. “Where did you go? How are things between you two?” Oh boy, there it is, the million-dollar question.

“We went to RPM Italian,” I reply, contemplating telling her about the wink, but quickly decide against it, shocked I even considered it.

“You guys love that place!” she says smiling.

“Yes we do but it was too crowded for dinner. We just had a drink there and then Cantina Laredo for dinner.”

“Oh, and you two are doing well?” She questions carefully. “Well…” I am not sure how to handle this line of questioning.

“Addie, you know your father and I just want you to be happy, right? I mean we love Declan, don’t misunderstand me, but I guess what I am asking is, do you? Love Declan, I mean.” I hesitate for just a moment, which is I guess long enough to deduce that in fact, I may not love Declan.

“Addie, it’s okay if you don’t. He is a great guy, but if it’s not there, then it’s not there.” She sips her wine.

“If what is not there?” I inquire hesitantly, interested in exactly how she will explain this. “You know, love, the spark, fireworks, passion.”

“I am just not sure. It has been about 18 months now, with some breaks in there. And the swimming takes up so much of my time. Declan is the first real serious boyfriend I have ever had.”

“And you are not sure because you have nothing to compare it to.” My mom can be so perceptive sometimes.

“Exactly! But more than that, I am just not sure that what I feel is what I am supposed to feel. Anyway, I will let you know how things go, okay? Enough about Declan for now.” I run my palms across the white table linen cloth in front of me.

“Okay, dear, I understand. Just know if you want to talk I am here. I love you. And remember, there are no rules when it comes to love. It’s a feeling, a state of mind.” Interesting choice of words considering all of these feelings I have after that wink. I shake off the thought.

“I know mom. I love you too, thanks.” And the food arrives, just in time.

We finish lunch by sharing one slice of banana cream pie, my favorite and the reason many people come to this place. My family is a big bunch of foodies. It’s a surprise we aren’t all overweight. Of course the swimming helps a lot in my case. Our conversation stayed light through dessert, mostly talking about my training and if 2016 will be my last Olympics or an even scarier thought-if 2012 was it for me. At 25 years old, Olympic athletes begin to ponder these things. She finishes by saying I should stop by Sunday for brunch with her and my father. She adds he hasn’t seen much of me since I have been back from the Games. She tells me Declan is always welcome if I am up for that as well. After my mom takes care of the bill, we stand up and walk outside together.