16. Betsy

Betsy

A fter what was inarguably the best nap of my life, I was fired up to play our semifinals match against Brazil. It was a formidable team, but we'd spent hours poring over their previous matches and planning our strategy.

Our team was on fire tonight. In front of a crowded stage we jumped and spiked and blocked and generally functioned as a well-oiled machine. Kelly and I were particularly in sync today. I was behind her in the rotation and to my surprise, I seemed to be able to anticipate her every move. And she did the same for me.

We won the first set, then Brazil took the second and third set. To win, one of the teams needed to win three sets. The U.S. winning the fourth set sent us into the fifth set, the one that would determine who would move onto the gold medal match. The loser would compete against the loser of the other semifinals match for the bronze.

The fifth set was abbreviated, and the winning team needed to be the first to reach fifteen points instead of the twenty-five that was required for the regular sets. As the coaches reminded us, the truncated set made it even more important that we come out hard and stay strong.

Our opponents weren't going to let us off easy. We were tied at thirteen-thirteen for what seemed like hours, before Eve finally scored our fourteenth point. If we scored the next point, we'd win, but if Brazil did, the game would continue.

The stadium quieted and everyone sat forward in their seats, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly the ball came right at me. I wasn't at the right angle to get it over myself, so I set it up, sending the ball straight up, allowing Kelly to leap into the air and spike it right over the net.

The ball seemed to travel in slow motion as two of the Brazilians lunged for it, but the ball slipped right between them, hitting the floor. The whistle sounded, awarding the U.S. the point, then our team erupted into motion as the crowd went crazy.

We'd won!

I threw my arms around Kelly, giving her a big hug, then lifting her off her feet and bouncing her up and down as our teammates cheered. The coaches and the players who'd rotated out onto the bench all rushed to the court, and we hugged and jumped up and down, jubilantly. We paused to shake hands with the other team, congratulating them on a good game, before we resumed our celebration.

In three days we'd play in the medal round. The winning team would get the gold, the loser the silver. At this point, we were guaranteed a medal, but that wasn't enough. We all wanted the gold.

That's why we agreed to avoid an offsite celebration tonight. As much as we were all dying to get out and explore Paris, we wanted to win more. As Coach Roberts told us, "There will be plenty of time to celebrate after we win the gold."

As it happened, we were going to be playing the home team for the honor of being the best volleyball team in the world. The French team was focused, experienced, and they had a home field advantage. Beating them was going to be hard, but not impossible.

Alcohol was strictly prohibited in athlete's housing – although many people snuck it in – so there were no celebratory drinks. Instead we all wandered over the cafeteria and loaded up our plates with food. Deciding to indulge, we also filled platters with cakes, pies, chocolates, and other treats for a celebratory dessert buffet. By the time we left the cafeteria, I was both stuffed and sleepy even though it was only eight o'clock at night.

"I'm so full," Kelly groaned as we walked into our room. "That's more than I've eaten in my entire life I think."

She flopped on the bed, rubbing her belly. "Oh my God, I have a food baby. Why did you let me eat that second piece of cake?"

"Because I didn't want to lose a finger by getting in between you and your dessert," I teased. "I didn't know you had such a sweet tooth."

I followed her lead and dropped down onto my own bed, immediately stretching out in the hope it would help me digest faster.

"I usually keep those urges under control," she replied. "Otherwise I just keep eating."

"Is that what led to your eating disorder? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

She was quiet for a few seconds, and I was about to apologize for bringing it up when she spoke again.

"No, I have a huge sweet tooth, but I was anorexic for a long time," she said softly. "My mother was fixated on not getting fat, and both of my parents often withheld food for punishment. Somewhere along the line, I realized that if I could control being hungry, control the calories going into my body, I would be taking back my power. At least that's what my ED therapist told me once. Some days I'd get by on just a few almonds or a leaf of lettuce."

"But you're fine now?" I asked.

"Mostly. There's a part of my brain right now that's screaming that I shouldn't eat anything tomorrow to make up for the huge dinner we had, but now I have the tools I need to challenge that voice and make smarter choices. Now I understand that it's okay to indulge once in a while."

"I'm glad you're better," I said sincerely.

"I've told you all my secrets," she responded. "Tell me yours."

"I don't have a lot of them. I grew up in a stereotypically normal suburban middle class household. My family is great. Not that my life was idyllic all the time, but it was pretty damned good, something I realized even more once I became an adult and heard how hard other people had it as kids."

"Don't feel sorry for me," she warned.

"I don't feel sorry for you, Kelly. I admire your resilience."