Page 112 of Every Move You Make

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, you need someone there to make sure you look your best.”

A pause stretches out and Robyn purses her lips. “I’ll have a makeup artist and hair stylist, mom. And they’re giving me a wardrobe. That’s kind of the whole point…they’restyling me.”

“I know that, sweetie. But you know, they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know your best angles.”

Robyn lets out an exaggerated sigh and slumps into the seat back. “Mom—”

“No, you listen to me. This is your first big brand deal, and we’ve been working hard for this. Other brands are going to take notice, and you need to look your best. I would be mortified if Adidas didn’t know how to capture your shoulders properly.”

“Again with the shoulders?”

“Yes, of course with the shoulders! Listen, I’m sorry you took after your father in that regard—”

“Mom, you’re a swimmer. You also have wide-set shoulders.”

“Yes, but I know how to hide them, dear.Thatis why I need to be at the photoshoot with you. If this ad campaign is done right, you should be expanding your image not only to other athletic… stuff, but fragrance, makeup, and cars! If you want to be perched on a Cadillac one day, then you need to listen to me.”

“I’m more of a Jeep girl.”

“Robyn!”

“Fine, Mom. You can come.”

“Wonderful,” she chirps, her airy tone returning. “Send me the details, and I’ll meet you there. Oh, this is so exciting! Bye, sweetie!”

“Bye,” she mutters before the call ends.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask.

“That would be my mother, Diedra.”

“She’s, uhh…” I fumble, trying to come up with the right word.

“A pill? Yeah.”

Isaiah brings her hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I forgot she was like that.”

I’m suddenly reminded of what she told me on our first not-date date. “Didn’t you say your parents joke about you needing to make their mistake worth it? The mistake of getting pregnant?”

“And ruining her Olympic career? Yeah,” she snorts.

“Baby, I’m really sorry,” I say, and I rub my hands over her arms. “First of all, your shoulders are a work of art, and if I were you, I’d be showing them off any chance I could.”

She sighs, “Yeah but you’re not a woman.”

“Hey,” Isaiah warns, about to launch into something, but she cuts him off.

“I just mean, you two are really big, definitely masculine men, and no one probably makes fun of you for having feminine or ambiguous features. I, on the other hand, have to constantly show off my femininity by decorating myself. And… I know, I know. I really, actually love makeup and dresses and jewelry, but I wish I could feel free enough to live in my masculine energy too. To wear sweatpants and an old T-shirt once in a while. Outside of rugby. In public! Be able to post videos of myself like that and not have to explain myself.

“Instead, I have to relentlessly keep up my feminine side so that I can show women they can have it both ways. They can be athletes and wear the gown.” She exhales and rubs Isaiah’s hand with her thumb. “I just… I don’t wanna have to think about what I look like so much. So in a really fucked up way, my mom coming to the photoshoot takes away a little bit of that overthinking.”

“I wish I could go with you,” Isaiah says gently.

“Maybe I could,” I say.

Robyn exhales, “No, it’s too risky. Are you forgetting that a lot of people know who you are too?” She rolls her head to look out into the dark evening sky, the glow of red tail lights flickering over her forlorn features. “It’ll be fine, guys. I’ve been dealing with her my entire life. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Deafening silence fills the vehicle as my mind whirs. How do I make this better? How do I make this woman see how beautiful she is no matter what she wears? How worthy she is of love?

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