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Rafa called Marc the night before making the official announcement. At first, Marc couldn’t tell what he was saying because Rafa was crying so much.
When Marc realizes it’s about not playing the Olympics, he looks over at Marcel’s sleeping form on the couch.
"Is Marcel there?" Rafa asks. "Never mind. Of course he is, you two are playing doubles this week. I’ve been getting information about what happens next regarding the team. I know Feli goes in for singles but the doubles… I’m reasonably sure you’ll be replacing me."
"OH MY…"
"But keep quiet about it, especially to Marcel. I don’t want you to tell him, only to be wrong and forcing him into playing with Fernando."
Marc chuckles but keeps his voice low in answering, "No, we don’t need Marcel sulking around. But, seriously? This would be amazing."
Marcel yells out, "Can you stop having pillow talk with Rafa? We have to get up early tomorrow."
"Go sleep on the bed instead of the couch! You’ll hurt your back," Marc calls out to Marcel, then mutters into the phone, "He thinks I’m going to be able to sleep?"
Rafa does something between a laugh and a cough. "If I don’t get a chance to call you, congratulations. I know it’s been tough ever since I had to decide between the two of you for doubles…"
"Just stop. That was a tough decision and I still don’t know what to do with this new information."
* * * * *
If Rafa was in Switzerland right now, Marc would kill him… or at least whack him with his racquet. To have to sit by as Marcel reads the official announcement and gets it in his head that means his own Olympic dream is over is just cruel punishment. Marc lies back on the bed, doing his best to act like this is news to him.
"I should have known that the Olympics could never happen. Everything was so simple. Bad enough that Rafa picked me over you in the first place but now we both lost the chance."
Marc goes with the alternative. "I don’t think you’re off the team, hon. Fernando would likely be paired with you."
"With Rafa, there was a real chance. Fernando will be too busy making a point of Feli seeing that he’s moved on with David to even care. While Feli will be taking advantage of the opportunity of getting alone with… do you think it’s a coincidence that both guys are making moves on guys named David? Don’t answer that, they’re all hot guys but Ferru is oblivious to their drama," then clicks onto Davis Cup pics that go along with that point.
"Marcel, stop torturing yourself and get away from the laptop."
Marcel nods, his eyes cast to the floor as he stands up. With slumped shoulders that make him look skinnier, he takes two steps and collapses onto the bed, then wiggles up to snuggle against Marc. "I know that he and I didn’t have the chemistry that you and Rafa have but I was able to believe because Rafa believed we had a better shot at a medal."
Marc wants to tell Marcel the rest of the story but he doesn’t even believe it’s possible and, if it doesn’t happen, would be worse to share in the pain.
* * * * *
"Rafa, you don’t have to apologize." Marcel walks into the bathroom with his phone. It’s Friday afternoon and they just won their semifinal match. They’re relaxing for now, knowing they’ll head their separate ways after the final. Marc going to Spain for a few days, Marcel to London for practice.
"I should have told you, Marcel. After all, you were directly affected by the news."
"It’s okay. I don’t expect you to…"
"I should have. There were so many calls that I finally threw my old phone into the pool. Toni let it slide, just this once. One moment, checking something…" It sounds like tapping on a keyboard, then he continues, "You and Marc won last week and now in the semifinal this week. That’s good. Need to be in good form for the Olympics."
"You and I would have been ready."
"I suppose but I think you and Marc are better prepared to make a run."
"It doesn’t really matter since Marc isn’t on the team." Marcel notices Marc retreat to the window and scrunches up his nose. Marc had been so supportive as Marcel complained yesterday. It never occurred to Marcel how much that news hurt Marc in very different ways.
"It kind of does matter since Marc is on the team. I told him not to tell you it could happen because I wasn’t certain but the Federation agreed."
Marcel’s voice is barely a whisper when he finally says, "He knew?"
"Before it was official. I told him..." There’s loud buzzing on Rafa’s end, then says, "I have to go. Good luck. I’ll be your loudest cheerleader."
"Thank you," this disconnects. Marcel walks back into the main room, in a state of shock.
Marc sounds so far away when he says, "What did Rafa say?"
As an answer, Marcel wraps his arms around Marc’s waist and tenderly kisses his neck. "I’m sorry I didn’t see this bothered you."
"It’s okay. You needed someone to keep you from freaking out," but Marcel can feel Marc beginning to tremble.
Marcel tightens his grip, his eyes focusing on Marc's cloudy reflection in the window. "Well, I still need that. The idea of playing in the Olympics is going to mess with my nerves. Fortunately, I have you to help me there. When we’re on the court and I’m worrying over missing a volley, you’ll be there knocking some sense…"
"Are you trying to be cute in saying I made the team?" Marc turns around and immediately relaxes upon noticing Marcel's wide smile greeting him.
"I didn’t think I needed to try to be cute for you but, yes, you did and we have a match to win tomorrow before we can properly celebrate."