Page 67 of The Retreat

I smile tightly and nod.

Remember to act like a person—remember to act like a person—I panic.

What does a person act like? My publicist said I should act like a person. But I need more information than that. And now I’m sitting with an interviewer, and I don’t have any fucking information.

The interviewer is smiling at me expectantly, and I remember acting like a person requires replying to her.

“Hi. So glad I could too.” I force the most awkward smile onto my face. I probably look like a fucking sim.

“You seem to be a little nervous, Owen.”

“I am nervous.” The words come out harsh.

“What’s making you nervous?” she presses, leaning in like she’s filled with compassion and not a shark wanting to expose me.

“I’m a bit of an anxiously, depressed introvert, so being interviewed on camera is not my favorite place to be.” Why did I just say that? What the hell is wrong with me?

“We expect a lot of anxiety. I don’t think most athletes are natural at this.” She’s lying.

I’ve seen Michael Phelps do these. Man is as smooth as fucking butter. Here I am like static electricity. A blanket that just came out of the dryer.

“I’m sure it’s some people’s strength, but it’s not one of mine.”

“Well, we’ll treat this like a conversation.”

That sounded fucking worse. I don’t have any friends. Do people even like me? I only talk to my brother and my fake husband.

I realize I haven’t replied again when she blinks aggressively at me. “That sounds great.”

“You’re the new addition to the men’s national fencing team. How does that feel?” She pivots, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Feels pretty good. I’m excited about being with the team, and our tournaments coming up.” Maybe I can do this. This line of questioning feels okay.

“I’ve heard wonderful things. That you’ve been on the coach’s radar for a while, so when he took over the national team, he was super excited to invite you to the team.”

“I’m proud to be given the chance to represent the United States. It’s such an amazing honor.”

“If you don’t mind switching directions, let’s talk about you being the first openly gay male fencer.”

I swallow. Here it is.

Listen, at least I’ve had some gay sex now, but I still don’t feel like that made me the poster boy for gay male fencer. At most, it makes me the poster boy for confused.

“Sure,” I say, because what else can I?

“I’m sure there are so many queer kids who are looking up to you. How does it feel to be a role model?”

“No little kid should be looking up to me.” I shut my mouth. Fuck! Why do I speak? I’ve got to make it better. I clear my throat and put my words together before speaking so I don’t fuck this up again. “I don’t think it’s really anyone’s place to make athletes or movie stars, or anyone in the spotlight, a role model, and someone for little kids to look up to. I think we’re all complex people, and that is a lot of pressure. I’m here to be a good sportsman. And I’m here to do what I love. But I don’t really want to hold the burden of parents having their kids look up to me. It’s great for people to see their queer adults and gay men out and open about who they are. But aside from that, I don’t really think it should be more.”

“Oh, good point. That has been something that has been highly debated for years. Whether kids should be looking up to athletes is controversial.”

“Well, I mean, I do think it’s okay for kids to look up to athletes. If they want to train harder and work towards their dreams. But making us people on pedestals and above reproach isn’t good for anyone. Along with the pressure. We already have a lot of stress on us to perform at such a high level.” I breathe out. That seemed to go better.

“You mentioned having anxiety. Do you think that adds into your anxiety?”

“How could it not? Everything adds to my anxiety. So I don’t need that piled on top.” My publicist is either going to love me or hate me after this.

“Even so, we’d love to tell your story. Can you tell us a little more about your relationship with your husband, Colin?”

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