Whisper Privileges (40 page)

Applause erupted again, combined with more
cheers, hoots and hollers.

Sydney prayed they would stop.
Let me
finish
! Did they think she wanted to stand up here all night?
Through the haze lingering in the air, she saw a sea of faces,
heads. They were faceless heads, judging heads.
Read the words
typed
, she told herself. Nobody cares if you use your notes.
Just read the words
. “These events have meant so much to Q,
personally,” she continued. “They’ve helped him develop and mature
and he no longer sees the things he can’t do.” A few people shouted
from somewhere high in the stands. “He only sees the possibility of
the things he
can
do.”

Someone barked out from the lower arena, “Go,
Q!”

Distracted by the sound, Sydney looked toward
the voice but had no idea where it came from. She returned to her
notes. “As a fellow athlete, I understand,” she fumbled slightly.
“Winning is about more than practice...it’s about your heart, your
mind.” Fleeting thoughts of her father flittered in. Images of him
tapping his head, his chest, followed by his smile of
encouragement... She remembered the day he believed in her, cared
about her win. Like Clay, he had urged her forward. But unlike her
father, Clay remained a dad first and foremost, Q his number one
priority. “Q has great determination,” she said, recalling her
visit in his hospital room. “...his drive, competitiveness...”

But Q wasn’t the only one with the desire to
win, to conquer the challenge set forth. Admiration shot steel into
her spine. “You
all
have amazed me with your enthusiasm,
your sense of teamwork, your sheer joy and passion in all that you
do...” She shook her head. With a brief glance across the crowd,
she squinted to see, to connect, but remembering her talk, locked
back onto her notes. “The outpouring of support from volunteers
means so much to the athletes and holds a lesson for us all. You
give your time and love without asking anything in return.

Q wants you to know how grateful he is, not
only for the volunteers, his friends and family, but his fellow
athletes as well. Without your support, he wouldn’t be where he is
today.”

Sydney heard a swell of young voices cheer at
their mention.
Were those his teammates
? She couldn’t make
out anything. No color, no familiar faces. She could only turn in
the direction of the noise to acknowledge them. “You never gave up
on him and for that, he thanks you.”

Through the subsequent applause, Sydney
thought about how these athletes never gave up on themselves,
either. She looked out over the crowd and remembered bits and
pieces of events throughout the week. There were young swimmers she
feared might drown before they made it to the other side. A few
kids that ran track without any semblance of rhythm or
coordination, she felt certain they’d hit the ground in a scrape of
skin and bruises. Volleyball players that missed every
return...

She chuckled. But everyone turned out fine.
No one drowned, no one fell on their face, no one quit or cried in
defeat. Except that one. She recalled the child’s face as though he
were standing in front of her now. He’d cried in defeat. And she
had wanted to cry with him. Not once, not ever, even if they were
the last ones out of the pool or a full ten minutes behind the
other racers did they give up. They persevered to the end. Except
Q. Angst trickled down her spine. He could have drowned, if it
hadn’t been for the quick action of his father. Sydney folded the
paper in her hands. She was finished here.

“You all are an inspiration,” she said. “Each
and every one of you is an inspiration to all who come in contact
with you. You have shown such courage, such spirit, that I as a
fellow athlete stand here in awe of you.” Tears stung. “Thank you
for the honor of hosting the National Games in my city. You’ve
touched our community in ways you’ll never know, ways that will
last a lifetime.” An image of the young girl who gave her
encouragement after her speech during opening ceremonies and then
again tonight formed in her mind. “You’ve touched me in ways you’ll
never know.” She paused, swallowing against a painful lump in her
throat. Gone were the nerves, the batter of pulse. Gone were
thoughts of anything but the people in this room. Only gratitude
remained. “Q wants you to know how much he’s appreciated your
encouragement and I want to say thank you as well. Especially to
the young girl out there tonight from my hometown who took the time
to give me encouragement.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks, but she
didn’t care. Sydney only cared about speaking her piece. It
suddenly dawned on her, that the arena had gone silent. “This young
athlete saw that I was nervous and took the time to give
me
some words of kindness. Her smile was all I needed.” Sydney broke
into one of her own, wrenched by a despair that rocked her. “In
fact, all of you have the most amazing smiles I’ve ever seen.” She
laughed through her tears and the crowd joined her.

Unashamed, Sydney took one last look around
the arena before taking her leave. “Thank you,” she ended. “Thank
you...”

The final words drifted quietly from her
lips.

Sydney navigated the stairs without issue,
took her seat and watched the proceedings continue. Speaker after
speaker followed, videos played, recapping the events yet she only
registered the overwhelming satisfaction churning inside her.
Intense joy, relief, respect for each and every person in
attendance tonight streamed through her veins. For the first time
she felt as though she truly understood. The Special Olympics were
not about disabilities. They were about the strength of commitment,
the power of inclusion, the enthusiasm and hope that burned eternal
in the human spirit. There was no obstacle too great to overcome.
There was no physical condition capable of rendering an individual
worthless.

No. There was nothing that could stand in
their way. Like her, these athletes understood sweat equity and
dedication. They understood what it took to win. Sydney was proud
to be counted among them.

As she watched the flame be extinguished,
Sydney felt the vibration at her waist. She pulled the cell phone
from its case hidden beneath her blouse and read the text from
Clay.

Meet me in the lobby of the Biltmore in a
half hour
.

A twist of nerves zipped through her stomach.
Sydney texted back that she would, then slipped the phone back into
her pocket. She mentally played out the scene in her head. The
Biltmore was a romantic location. Yes, his parents were staying
there but Sydney didn’t kid herself for a second that Clay didn’t
choose the place for its ambiance. He absolutely did.
Would they
kiss
?
Would he try
? This was to be his opportunity to
convince her they had a chance. But she had decided against it,
hadn’t she? Baggage and distance were not in her future. Glancing
about her, she glimpsed a small boy in tears. On the far side of
the arena, he grasped for the hand of an older athlete on his team.
A twinge of longing wound through her heart. Was he sad that the
events were over?

She was. A future without Clay would mean a
future without Q, without the happiness coursing through her
now.

# # #

Riding high from the closing ceremonies, the
positive nods from Special Olympics management and several city
officials, she entered the Biltmore lobby and her heart surged at
the sight of him. Standing by a wide round marble column, its top
intricately carved and lifting into groin vaulted ceilings painted
midnight blue, Clay appeared serene. The lobby was quiet at this
hour, with a single couple huddled together on an overstuffed couch
beyond him. As she neared him Sydney smiled, unable to squelch the
excitement building inside her.

Clay waited until she stopped. He took both
of her hands within his and said, “I heard you slayed the
crowd.”

She laughed, instantly self-conscious. “I
don’t know about all that, but I didn’t fall flat on my face.”

“I heard you were incredible. My parents
videotaped your talk so they could show it to Q.”

“They did?” Sydney was stunned. Why had the
thought not occurred to her?

“Said Q would be so proud.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. Heartbeats pelted
her chest. After all was said and done, tonight had been about
him.

“And he is. He’s thankful you accepted his
request and told me he’s proud to call you his friend.”

Tears caught in her mascara. “He’s an amazing
kid, Clay.”

He nodded that he knew. “And so are you.
You’re amazing.” The breath caught in her chest as he brushed the
moisture from her eyes. “You mean a lot to me, Sydney. A lot to Q
and a lot to me.”

“Clay—” She loved hearing the words, but she
was afraid of being pulled in, pulled under by a swell of temporary
joy and satisfaction.

“I want to talk to you about where we go from
here.”

Yes. Yes, she knew that’s why they were here.
Staring into his eyes, the face that was becoming much too
familiar, too desirable, she murmured, “We don’t have a lot of
options.”

“Of course we do.”

“Clay, you live in South Carolina. My home is
here.”

“So... No law against moving.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“You don’t?”

Did she
? It dawned upon her that in
the course of their relationship, her job had driven her
single-minded focus around the fact she couldn’t move. But if she
wasn’t employed by JL Conventions? Couldn’t she? Shouldn’t she?

“Okay... I can move.”

“What?” Her pulse shot through her skin.
“Just like that? You can’t
move
—you have too much at stake
in South Carolina with Q and your family. You can’t uproot him from
his life like that. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Is that it? Is it Q?”

“What? No, it’s not Q,” she defended
quickly.

“I realize he requires more attention than
most kids and it may be a challenge for you to see yourself taking
part in his life.” He seemed to stumble and reached for her hands
again. “I mean, let’s be honest, hanging around hospitals is no
joyride. It’s no place anyone wants to be—”

“Q’s great,” she cut in. It’s not Q.”

“Is it me?”

Peering into his eyes, Clay seemed in near
disbelief it could actually be him. That there was even a remote
possibility she didn’t want
him
. She tamped back the flutter
of amusement in her chest. Probably because it was true—she’d be
insane not to want him.

But she did want him—very much.

Clay’s cell phone rang. He pulled the phone
from his belt and glanced at the number, then muttered, “I have to
take this.” He yanked up the phone and jammed it to his ear.
“What’s up?” His gaze sliced away from her.

Clay didn’t have to say a word. Sydney knew
it was Trish.

“Yes, yes. Fine. Whatever.” He shot her an
eyeful of frustration. “If you have to leave, call my parents.”

Listening to them work out the details of
their son’s care reminded her of the one reason she didn’t want to
be with him.

Displeased, he ended the call. “Now where
were we?”

The edge to his voice only underscored the
unwelcome reminder of his ex-wife that rose between them. Longing
blew hope to a million shards of regret. “I think it’s best we let
it go.”

“I can’t do that, Sydney. You mean too much
to me.”

“It’s been two weeks, Clay. We’ve known each
for all of two weeks. I can’t mean that much already. I think we
can move on, and put this behind us.”

“Maybe you can, but I can’t”

The statement felt like an insult. “I don’t
understand.” Nor could she make out the rigid set to his jaw, the
hard edge lining his eyes. “We barely know each other. Why are you
acting like I’m so important?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t take time to know it’s
right. Sometimes it only takes a touch, a feeling.”

Sydney shook her head. She knew it was true,
that it was possible, because she felt the same. This felt right.
It felt good between them.

“Is this about my ex? Are you jealous of
her?”

“No,” she lied.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about when
it comes to Trish. Trust me.” He grabbed hold of her arms. “She’s
nothing to me.”

“But she’s the mother of your child. She’ll
always be in your life.”

“So.” He paused, and something inside him
softened. “Hopefully you will be, too.”

Sydney hesitated. What felt good, couldn’t
always be trusted. Clay’s fingers dug into her triceps. Emotions
relied on hopes and wants, wishes and dreams. They didn’t deal in
facts. They weren’t filled with wisdom, objectivity. Sometimes,
feelings betrayed you.

“Tell me you’re not jealous,” he said.

“I’m not jealous.”

Clay let go of her and the protest hung
between them. No breeze to speak of here in the courtyard, her
defenses flapped in pitiful defeat. A moonless night, lamps
shimmered within the space. The palms trees bowed without motion,
fronds drenched in golden light. Tables were empty, the wait
service closed. The center fountain was but a single bowl, a gentle
noise as its waters dripped to the lighted basin below.

Staring at her through the dim light, Clay
wanted nothing more than to hold Sydney. He wanted to pull her to
him and kiss away her fears. He wasn’t blind. Trish was an
attractive woman. He knew that her mere presence was enough to send
some women running for the hills of safety, security. Hell, in the
beginning? He’d been as awestruck by her as everyone else. He
couldn’t believe she wanted him and only him, ‘til death do us
part. For a twenty-one year old, it had been a dream come true.

But no longer. He’d lived with the woman
inside—or lack thereof—and understood there was nothing to be
jealous about. She was a hollow shell. She was a pretty cardboard
cutout. Yet Sydney didn’t know. The women before her didn’t know.
They only saw what they saw—the beautiful exterior of a shell as it
lay gleaming beneath the sun, gently lapped by waves in the crystal
pink sand, her exterior washed to a patina of perfection;
perfection others wanted to claim for their own.