Chapter Text
Maya's POV
The event was about to start in twenty minutes! That's all the time we had. Twenty-minutes!
I usually use that time to run the questions with my guests so there are no surprises, and we are able to have a fluid exchange of ideas on air. This is not a Barbara Walters special, it's a five-minute segment in the middle of the Olympic coverage. We don't have time to fool around. But this woman was nowhere to be found and I was starting to get desperate.
"Do you have a plan B?" the production assistant asked me fifteen minutes before we went live.
Did I have a plan B? No, I did not have a plan B. Plan A always works for me. I don't need a plan B. Or I haven't until now.
Ten minutes. Nothing. She wasn't coming and I was on my phone reading everything I could about the subject we were going to talk about so I could give a master class on my own.
Five minutes. I swore never to give my time to Carina DeLuca ever again.
And then. There she was. The make-up artist was putting some powder on her face. I didn't want to interview her anymore. I had everything ready to do my segment without her, but then again, I'm just the anchor, not the producer or the owner of the network that were chirping in my ear.
"Get her on the air, Maya!"
"I can do it myself, Chris. I have all the information memorized—"
"She is the expert, and she gave us the exclusive. Do the interview!"
"She should've been here fifteen minutes ago!"
"Enough, Maya! She is there now. Interview her or say goodbye to the Olympics!" His decision was final.
I was livid. I didn't even want to look at her, but every time I did, she would look back at me with a regretful face mouthing she was sorry.
Sirry, sirry. Meh, meh, meh.
Sure.
That's why I don't trust doctors, especially orthopedic surgeons. Not after my ankle. They were unable to bring me back to my competition level. I mean, it's the twenty-first century. Something should've been able to be done for me to keep running. But no.
Carina fixed her jacket as she walked toward me. It was a nice jacket, but this is the summer Olympics. What was she doing with a jacket? It was freaking hot in that place.
"Hello. I'm Carina DeLuca. I'm so sorry for being late. I had an—"
"Hey, not much time. I read your study, it's fascinating, but we don't have time to run the questions down. I hope nothing I ask comes as a surprise." I was rude, I won't deny it. But she made it impossible for me to like her.
We are live in 10, 9, 8…
We stood there waiting, quietly but I could tell she was self-conscious about her jacket and extremely nervous.
3,2,1…
"Good morning, Mark. I'm here with Doctor Carina DeLuca, the orthopedic surgeon who's been making waves in the sports medicine world. Doctor DeLuca, thank you for being here with us."
"No, thank you for the invitation, Maya. I'm really happy to be here with you and the Italian track team, accompanying our successful athletes."
"First of all, congratulations to the athletes of your program that made it to the Olympics. It's an amazing accomplishment. But I wanted to start with some hard questions."
"Please." Carina kept her smile, even after I made that statement, which spoke of her confidence in her work, but also told me that she had been hammered with tough questions before and was ready for me. I swear, she was more nervous about her jacket than the possibility of me destroying the good name of her study.
"The Artismed Institute claims a groundbreaking procedure that could allow injured athletes to regain over 90% of their functionality." I continued. "Can you provide us with concrete data on the success rates at the elite competitive level?"
"Yes, our data is indeed promising. As you mentioned before, we currently have four Italian athletes who have qualified for the Tokyo Olympics after undergoing our procedure. Their performance metrics are exceptional, and we're confident they'll be strong contenders in their events. We're also working with two more athletes who are on track for the next Olympic cycle."
"Four qualifiers is certainly noteworthy. However, it represents a small fraction of the total number of patients who've undergone your procedure. How do you respond to critics who suggest these might be outlier cases rather than representative of typical outcomes?"
"I appreciate your question, Maya. I wanted to clarify that rhetoric. We've treated forty patients to date, and it's crucial to understand that not every athlete we treat is at the Olympic level. Many compete nationally and locally, and we measure success by comparing their post-procedure performance to their pre-injury benchmarks. We're seeing consistent improvements across various competitive tiers."
"Let's talk about the recovery timeline. Initially, your program suggested years before athletes could resume training. How has this changed, and what are the current expectations for recovery?"
"You're right to point out the evolution of our approach. Through rigorous research and refinement, we've significantly reduced recovery time. Now, patients can typically begin modified training within six months post-surgery. This acceleration doesn't compromise the quality of recovery. In fact, we're seeing improved long-term outcomes."
"Doctor DeLuca, your procedure has been hailed as revolutionary, but all surgeries carry risks. What are the specific risks associated with your method, and how do they compare to traditional treatments?"
"Every medical intervention has risks, as you may know, and we're very transparent about ours. However, our complication rates are significantly lower than traditional methods due to our comprehensive approach. We manage risks through personalized prosthetic design, stringent pre-operative protocols, and tailored post-operative care."
"Your institute has primarily worked with younger athletes. Critics argue that your success might be attributed to their natural resilience and ability to rebuild muscle mass. How effective is your procedure for athletes with longstanding injuries or those later in their careers?"
"That's a common misconception. While it's true that younger patients often have advantages in recovery, our recent advancements have yielded remarkable results across all age groups. Thanks to innovations in biomaterials and stem cell applications, we've achieved up to 70% limb functionality recovery even in cases of decade-old injuries. Age is becoming less of a limiting factor."
"Those are impressive claims. But there are concerns about the long-term effects of your procedure. How are you tracking patient outcomes beyond their immediate competitive careers, and what data can you share on the lasting impact of your treatment?"
"Long-term follow-up is a cornerstone of our program. We're conducting a longitudinal study tracking all our patients for a minimum of 10 years post-procedure. Preliminary data from our earliest patients show sustained functionality and quality of life improvements. That's why we're committed to full transparency and we regularly publish our findings in peer-reviewed journals."
"That is in fact extraordinary, Doctor DeLuca. But as we wrap up, I want to touch on one important concern. There's been speculation about the cost and accessibility of your treatment. How do you respond to comments that this breakthrough might only be available to elite athletes with substantial financial backing?"
"Accessibility is a priority for us. While the procedure is currently costly due to its personalized nature, we're actively working on scaling our technology. We've established partnerships with several national sports federations to subsidize treatments for promising athletes regardless of their financial situation. Our goal is to make this technology available to a broader range of athletes in the coming years."
"That's wonderful to hear. Thank you for your time, Doctor. DeLuca. Best of luck to your patients competing in the upcoming Games."
"Thank you, Maya. I'd like to extend my best wishes to all athletes. We at Artismed are proud to support every athlete's journey."
"Back to you, Mark." I waited for the production assistant to confirm we were off air to start taking my microphone off. I wanted to get out of there and go prepare my next segment.
"Maya, thank you for your time. I'm really sorry for being late," she said, fanning herself with her hands to freshen up. It was really hot. I didn't get why she was wearing that jacket. "I got a little wardrobe malfunction entering the stadium and I tried to fix it but… Well, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"That's okay." I didn't pay too much attention. I had an hour to go live again and I still had to travel to the other venue.
"How about I invite you for a drink tonight and make it up to you?"
"I don't drink. I'm working, so…" Why couldn't she leave me alone? I couldn't have been more evident. I wanted to get as far away from her as I could.
"How about dinner then?"
"Look, I really don't have time to mingle. I have a job to do, and MY TIME is precious."
"You still have to eat," she tried being funny. I puffed out all the air contained in my lungs with enough frustration that even an ice cube would've frozen. Not her though. "Come on, what do you say? One dinner. Tonight. That's all I ask. I can take you out to a nice restaurant."
"Ok, fine whatever." I replied and grabbed my bag towards the door. I had to go, or I would miss my ride.
"I'll be at your hotel at eight?"
"Should I be ready by nine then?"
She deflated at my reply, which I enjoyed.
"I'll be there at 7:30 p.m., sharp."
"I'll be ready by nine."
I went out the door, without even looking back, and spent the rest of my day jumping from venue to venue until 7:45 p.m. and, as I walked in and picked up my dorm room key at the reception, I was informed of her presence at the lobby. I had completely forgotten about our date.
She had changed clothes. I mean, she had a wardrobe malfunction. I shouldn't have expected her to wear the same jacket.
I'll accept that she was looking way more casual and confident in herself in that light orange blouse. The fact that it was sleeveless made her look refreshed. I imagine she spent the day suffocating in the competition. I, on the other hand, was exhausted, and sweaty. I was not presentable to approach her. I needed a shower, a cool outfit for the night and to put on some perfume and lipstick.
"Please, I need you to help me with a bar request," I said to the receptionist. "I need to order the best white wine in the house and send a glass to the woman waiting for me."
"Absolutely," he replied. "Should I tell her it's from you? Or a secret admirer."
"No, no. From me. Tell her I'll be ready in fifteen minutes. That I'm sorry for the delay."
"No problem, miss Bishop."
I hurried to the elevator and went into the shower as soon as I stepped inside my room. I wanted to stay there, under the cold shower for hours. I was so sore and hot. Tokio in the summer is hell and this: no air conditioning in the venues, is killer.
I'm not the kind of woman that gets intimidated by other women, but I'd be lying if I ignored my heart racing with nervousness when I saw her as I left the elevator. I chose a light outfit too. Earlier, Carina had looked casual yet sophisticated, and I didn't want to seem out of place.
As I approached the lobby, she caught sight of me. She was sitting in that crowded lobby, gracefully sipping the glass of wine I had sent over. Her face lit up with a warm smile that made me shiver. In the morning, my anger hadn't allowed me to see it, but she was stunningly beautiful.
She raised her glass in a silent toast, and I found myself smiling back before I could hide it. A flutter in my stomach invaded me. It was a feeling of anticipation that I wasn't used to. It surprised me, and if I'm being honest, it scared me a little too.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," I said when I reached her, trying to keep my voice calm. I thought she would say something about it, to throw in my face that I also could be late, like she had been in the morning, but she didn't. She stood up, her eyes were shining with kindness and she said, "No need to apologize. The wine was a nice surprise. Thank you."
"You're welcome," I gestured toward the door. "Shall we?" I hoped she didn't hear the slight tremor in my voice. She left the wine on the table and walked beside me into the Tokyo night. The warm air hit us as we stepped outside. I'd been to countless cities as an athlete and now as an anchor. There is always a sense of excitement of the unknown, but somehow that night felt different. The atmosphere seemed more vibrant, almost dangerous. All my fatigue went out the window. I was on full alert mode.
Carina hailed a taxi right away. She was obviously familiar with the city, because I would've just taken the one from the hotel. She let me in first, closed the door behind her and told the driver where to go. And as soon as we were sitting side by side, her perfume invaded me as a gentle breeze came in through the window and lifted her hair. It was hypnotizing. I tried to concentrate on the passing scenery, but my mind kept drifting back to her.
"I hope you don't mind, but I've chosen a traditional restaurant for us," she said, her accent wrapping around the words. "I thought you might appreciate experiencing some local culture."
I nodded, realizing I was genuinely looking forward to it. "That sounds perfect, actually. I haven't had much chance to explore Tokyo beyond the venues and my hotel."
"I have a feeling you will love it."
"I'm sure I will."
I found myself stealing glances the whole way. She was singing along to a song on the radio, but I paid no attention to what it was or if I even understood the lyrics. All I know is that for a moment I was lost in the sound of her whispering voice as she sang the tune while the lights of the city passed us by.
What was it about her that had me so off balance? Why had everything changed since that morning?
The taxi pulled into a narrow street in front of some traditional wooden buildings. Carina led me to a discreet entrance. I could never imagine that such an exquisite place was hiding behind that door. It was like we had stepped into another world. The restaurant was intimate, soft lighting and music, and the gentle sound of water from an artificial stream. It was as if I was miles away from the frenetic energy of the Olympics. A little peace. I loved it.
We settled down at our table and were immediately offered the menus. I honestly had no idea what to expect. We didn't know each other well enough for me to feel so vulnerable. It was like she was excited to be with me and I couldn't figure out why. Aside from my glory days of competition, I was just another athlete turned anchor at a sporting event.
Carina ordered for the both of us in fluent Japanese, it was impressive to see her going back and forth with the waiter.
"I hope you don't mind," she said. Her eyes opened wide when she realized she hadn't asked me what I wanted to eat. "It's just that I've been here a few times and the chef's selection is always exceptional."
"That's perfectly all right," I replied, surprised at how easily I was relinquishing control. But for once, I felt safe enough to let go.
As we waited for our food, I was captivated by how easily our conversation flowed.
"I wanted to thank you again for the interview today. Your questions were challenging but fair. It's refreshing to engage with someone who has done their research."
I felt bad. I had been harder on her than I had anticipated because I was upset about her tardiness.
"I always try to be thorough," I said. She replied with a smile. "But I was being too tough, and it was unfair to you."
"Oh, please. Don't say that. You were as thorough as the subject required. And you helped me clear up a lot of bad rumors that the program's detractors have been spreading on the Internet. That is always a good thing. So, thank you."
I didn't want to contradict her. In fact, her eagerness and fluent answers made me interested in what she had invested the last ten years of her life in.
Our appetizers arrived. A delicate arrangement of sashimi that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Carina leaned forward. Her face resembled that of a small child with a new toy. "This looks so delicious!" She picked up her chopsticks and waited for me to take a bite first. I wanted the same one she was eyeing, but I took the one on the right, and then she went right for it. "So, Maya, tell me. How does a world-class athlete become a sports journalist? That's quite a career change."
"It wasn't an easy transition," I hated to admit, this is not my dream job. "After the injury, I felt lost. Sports had been my whole life, and suddenly that was gone. But I still loved the world of athletics, the stories of triumph and perseverance. Journalism allowed me to stay connected to that world, just from a different angle."
"That must have taken a lot of courage," Carina said. "To reinvent yourself like that."
"It did. For a moment, I considered becoming a firefighter."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I thought it would be the same adrenaline as competition, but I missed sports too much," I wonder what my life would have been like if I'd decided to run into fires for a living. Would I still be alive? "What about you? How does an Italian doctor end up revolutionizing sports medicine?"
"Ah, now that's a story," she said, gesturing broadly. Italians. "I have doctor parents. My father was a researcher, a surgeon, always trying new techniques, and my mother was an OB/GYN. I actually thought I would go in one of those directions. But when I was in my first year of residency, I was on call for one of the most horrific accidents I've ever seen. A school coliseum collapsed and there were so many injuries. All traumas. I was under the supervision of one of my most beloved teachers, Doctor Sakamoto. A brilliant woman who pioneered some incredible techniques in regenerative medicine in orthopedics. After that, she took me under her wing and I specialized in trauma and ortho. When I graduated, she invited me to work with her here in Tokyo, which I did until I started the institute—at first under her supervision—and moved back to Italy."
"That sounds like quite a journey."
"There was this moment," she said, her voice taking on an excited tone, "this basketball player. A piece of the wall fell right on his knee. It was a career-ending injury, everyone thought. But Doctor Sakamoto decided to try an experimental treatment. I watched this kid go from thinking his life was over to dunking again in 3 years. That's when I knew, this is what I wanted to do."
"Wow. So, from thinking about research to gynecology and then straight to orthopedics. It's impressive."
She was quiet for a bit. I thought she must just be savoring her sashimi. But there was something more. She kept looking at me and then the sashimi, at me and the sashimi. Until she kept her eyes on mine for one more second than the sashimi and I noticed her swallowing air.
"There is something that has marked my work, though." She paused, took a sip of sake, and continued as if it gave her courage. "Everything changed for me during the 2012 Olympics."
My breath caught in my throat. Those games are painful for me. Traumatic to a point. I had so many dreams of continuing to compete, but my injury destroyed my future.
Carina's eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of empathy and pride that I couldn't quite understand. "I was watching the women's 10000 meters… your competition." She paused for a few seconds before continuing. "I could see the pain in your face as you ran. And what shocked me the most was knowing that you must have been in so much pain, but you wanted that medal. You needed it. And you ran like it was the last thing you would do in your life."
"It kind of was." I chuckled. It's the worst moment of my life. I don't think I could ever really celebrate my medal the way I should. I shove it in people's faces. But that piece of metal represents my greatest failure. I won the battle but lost the war. I would never compete again. My life was over.
"I watched as the medical team rushed to you at the finishing line, and I felt… so helpless. I can't even imagine what it was like for you."
"It wasn't any better, that's for sure." I started to regret accepting Carina's invitation. All the peace I had felt was gone. Sadness and envy started to invade me. I was there in the Olympic games watching so many of my people try to make their dreams come true, and I was behind the camera with a microphone. It just wasn't the same.
"But Maya, it doesn't have to be the end," Carina said. She looked as if she was about to pitch the biggest idea of her life to me and was afraid she might not make it. "If there is something I learned from all my years working alongside Doctor Sakamoto is that hope, with the help of science and a lot of work, can make miracles happen."
"I don't believe in God."
"Would you believe in me?" she asked, leaving me blank. What was she trying to say? "I founded the Artismed Institute with one goal in mind," Carina said, her voice full of passion. "To develop techniques and technologies that could give athletes a second chance. And if I'm being completely honest, Maya… I always hoped that one day I would be able to help you."
Her words hit me like an invisible force. I felt a whirlwind inside my head. It terrified me. Was she offering to fix my ankle?
"I… I don't—"
Carina reached across the table, her hand over mine. "We have reached that point. We are ready. We can make a complete assessment of your injury… Well, one more detailed than what I already have done with the public records published back then by the doctors that took care of you—"
"They didn't. They let it go to waste. I could never recover full mobility and rehabilitate."
"I know, but our technology is ready for you."
"Look, Carina I don't… I…" I couldn't get it out of my mouth. I didn't trust doctors. And I had been surprised by her answers in the morning, but I had a 10-year-old injury.
"I know it seems impossible to you now. And it is a lot to ask, but I'd like to enroll you in our study," Carina said, her eyes shining with an enthusiasm I just couldn't share. "It would be free of charge, of course. We would sponsor you. We would start with a reassessment of your ankle, develop a personalized treatment plan, create a special prosthetic for you and work towards getting you back to competition level."
"It's been years," I protested. "Not even if I had continued training I could ever be the athlete I once was."
"I could show you our private studies. Our latest results," she offered. "We can answer any question you may have, anything. And you don't have to say yes," she added gently. She was willing to open her services to me without compromise. "I want you to be a witness of what the human body is capable of doing, especially when guided by the right expertise. With our techniques and your determination, I believe we could have you ready for the Paris 2024 Olympics."
"That is in four years!"
"It is! Yes! And we can make it happen. Wouldn't you want to try?"
"I have a job. Responsibilities—"
"We would take care of you for those four years. Everything. A place to stay. Personal expenses. Traveling costs. Everything."
"That's hundreds of thousands of dollars."
"That's a fraction of what we get for research in a year."
That not only sounded pretentious but made me feel like a guinea pig.
"Look, all I'm saying is that we can show you everything you need, and if in the end you still don't want to do it, you can say no without any obligation," she confirmed. I wasn't going to be held to a silent promise. "But… if you say yes. Our sponsors will be happy to see you succeed with us. It would be like being paid to train."
I liked that concept better. It's basically what every athlete dreams of. Having sponsors that give you the freedom to train and compete.
And that was the key word. Compete in the Olympics again? Could I even do it?
"I don't know, Carina. This has been a lot."
"I know. And I'm sorry I ruined the night." She was regretful that she had said anything so early in our dinner date. And after being so considerate and gentle, I wasn't going to drown in my thoughts. That's what the bed in my hotel room was for.
"I need time to think about it," I said. "But you didn't ruin anything. I'm grateful for…" Should I have said for working so hard for the last 10 years after seeing my injury? And that brought up another thought. Four athletes were going to compete in these Olympics after following the treatments she developed thinking of me. Four people were given the opportunity to make their dreams come true… and it started with my injury. With me. "Everything. I'm grateful for everything. But give me some time."
"I would never ask for anything less. I understand how hard of a decision it is to drop everything and give it your all to something," Carina replied, her voice gentle. "It's a big decision and I don't expect an answer tonight. Take all the time you need."
"I will. But now… Main course?"
Her smile is something that I didn't notice in the morning either. Her eyes, warm in a way that made me sigh.
"You are going to go crazy with the main course. Just wait," she said, once more looking like an eager kid.
That night, sleep eluded me. My mind raced with all the possibilities Carina was offering. The idea of competing again was exhilarating and terrifying. Could I really put myself through that again? Risk the disappointment if it didn't work, the pain?
But there was something else keeping me awake. The memory of Carina's confidence, of how she has been thinking of me for all this time, wishing to be able to give me one last hope.