He nods, his thumb absently swiping at the condensation on his glass. “Used to be. Had dreams of training for the Olympics and everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My mother and I moved around a lot. I was never in one place long enough to make a team and stick to it.” He throws up a dismissive hand. “Wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Very few people are good enough to compete at that level. And the odds of qualifying are slim to none. Like a tenth of a percent slim to none. But when you’re a kid, you dream about shit like that. Well, I did, at least.”

He tells himself that it wouldn’t have mattered precisely because it very much mattered to him. And still does, I think. Someone who didn’t care about his prospects wouldn’t have bothered to calculate the likelihood of making the Olympics. “Were you good?”

“I was.”

There’s no conceit in his voice. It’s simply what he knows to be true—and I believe him.

“Do you still swim?”

“Not as much as I’d like to.” Suddenly he straightens. “My turn.”

“Go for it,” I say.

“Of all the places you’ve visited outside the United States, which one is your favorite?”

“That’s easy. Brazil. I’m not sure I can do it justice, but if there’s a place with more natural beauty, I haven’t come across it. Plus, there’s an energy there. It’s the spirit of the people. Their joy for life. Their national pride. It’s something to witness. Here in America, it’s just my mother, her sisters, and my cousins. We’re a small family. But there? My relatives get together and suddenly dozens of people are smoking meats in a makeshift brick oven in someone’s backyard. It’s wild. And when I’m there, I feel even more connected to my mother. Makes me realize how scary it must have been to leave the only home she’d ever known and go after her piece of the so-called American dream here.”

“Your mother and aunts sound like amazing women. Is someone writing all this down? For posterity?”

“Lina is,” I say, nodding. “She’s the historian. Family trees, recipes, even juicy gossip.”

“Nice,” he says. “I haven’t traveled outside the country much. Not unless it’s for work. But I’ll add Brazil to the bucket list. You’re an excellent ambassador.”

“Maybe I’ll even agree to be your tour guide someday.”

He gives me a “yeah, yeah, sure you will” smile that irks me a bit. Mostly because it isn’t at all difficult to imagine doing just that. We’d have tons of fun too. Dean letting loose on the streets of Rio would be a hoot, and I would get as many incriminating photos as I could.