Page 51 of Dead to Me

‘Oh,’ I said, trying to give him a smile.‘Hey.’

He came to the edge of the bank, so I checked for traffic and pulled in all the way, lifting my left oar so I could glide in on a tilt.

‘I’ve been looking out for you down here,’ Kit said, coming to crouch next to me.‘Towpath is my favourite run.’

He didn’t seem to have a problem with admitting he’d been checking up on me, but maybe that was the point.To make sure I knew he was keeping an eye out.

I thought of those photographs, and I shivered.Thoughwhen his eyes went to my very bruised leg I saw them widen.Was he really surprised?Or had he wanted to see exactly how much he’d hurt me?

‘Nobody should have a favourite run,’ I told him, doing my best to pretend I hadn’t noticed.‘Running is insanity.’

Kit shook his head.‘I know, but they won’t let me have a boat on the rugby pitch, so…’

I had to give him that.

‘How’s it going?’he asked, nodding towards the water.‘That looks painful.’

‘Oh, it’s not as bad as it looks,’ I said.‘Drivers around here really need to work out the size of their vehicles.’

‘You got run into?’he asked with what seemed like simple concern.

‘Yup!I was properly in the right place in the bike box, too.But they were in a hurry and didn’t see me.’I shrugged.‘It’s OK, I’m still getting the miles in.’

And then two things occurred to me: the first was that Kit was a sportsman and would probably recognise only too easily the signs of someone who was having a crisis of self-confidence.The second one was that I didn’thaveto lie about how I was feeling and it would be nice to just be able to tell one of these guys the truth, even if hehadcome to revel in my injured state.

So I let out a long breath and said, ‘Actually, I’m having a crappy time of it.I didn’t sleep well because my leg hurt and so I was off my game from the start, and I’ve been steering like a total moron, and kind of lost all belief that I’m good enough to even sit in this boat, never mind achieve what I want to.’

I gave a shaky laugh and leaned down to pick up my water bottle from beneath my feet.

‘Ahh, sorry,’ Kit said, and despite listening for any delight,I heard nothing but sympathy in his tone.Though sympathy wasn’t really what I wanted right then, either.‘I’m… I have a lot of days like that.’

‘No, you don’t,’ I said, in what was, to be honest, a snappy voice.

Kit laughed.‘Don’t buy into my positivity bullshit.A lot of it’s about trying to convince myself.’I looked up at him, wondering whether this was an effort to manipulate or the honest truth.‘I have to work pretty hard not to have my dad’s voice in my head.And it’s worst if I take a knock during a game.’

‘Oh.’I took a chug of the water, considering this.‘I kind of figured your parents were the nice kind.’

‘Dad’s not the worst,’ Kit said.‘He just comes from the school of “you have to push kids to get them to achieve their potential”.So he’s spent a lot of my life telling me what I’m doing isn’t good enough, which… It doesn’t help, actually.’He half straightened from his crouched position but, instead of leaving, he sat himself down properly on the bank.‘But I have ways of shutting it out.’He nodded at the blades.‘It’s probably the same as what you do.I have little ritual movements that make me feel Zen, like crossing my arms onto my shoulders and breathing.Doesn’t matter if anyone thinks I’m a prick, I do it anyway.’He gave me a lopsided smile.‘And I ignore the pressure or what I feel Ishouldbe achieving and focus in on one tiny thing.Like dropping my shoulder an inch further on a tackle.Or being a fraction more on my toes in the sprint.It stops anything else getting in, like beating myself up about a bad pass or anything.’

I looked out at the water, thinking that beating myself up is actually one of my default states.I’d definitely been doing it over the rowing.And over Cordelia, too.Telling myself over and over that I shouldn’t have overshared with her.That I’d been unprofessional.That I was messing everything up.

Kit’s style of doing things sounded so much… kinder on himself.Not letting in the self-laceration, or the rage, or the guilt.

‘I get told I shouldn’t dwell on things a lot,’ I said with a laugh.‘By coaches and academic supervisors.But I guess I haven’t really developed any methods fornotdoing it.’

‘Maybe it’s worth finding a movement that makes you feel calm,’ he said.‘Something that lets you feel like you’re washing all the anger away.And then going from there.’Kit shrugged.‘But this is just me talking.I’m not a sports psychologist.’

‘Oh, I’ve seen plenty of those,’ I said.I looked out at the water and found myself thinking suddenly of Tanya.Of how she used to smooth her headband just before a match.How totally calm she’d looked doing it.

Weirdly, ritual movements had never occurred to me as something that might help me.I mean, I obviously fiddle with my nails or my hair or whatever’s around all the time, but I don’t have anything particularly conscious.

‘I might give it a try.’

I closed my eyes and put my hands up to where one of Tanya’s bright blue headbands would have been, up on the centre of my forehead.I should have felt stupid, doing it in front of Kit, but picturing Tanya, it actually felt almost likeshewas touching my head.Like it was her hands moving over my skin and hair, and brushing everything away.

And it was the strangest thing.It was like all the anger and self-loathing just slid away with them.

I blinked my eyes open and looked up at Kit with genuine surprise.

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