by Cara Dee
Her forehead creased, and she pursed her lips for a beat. “Let’s have coffee on Tuesday. That’s when you get off work early, right?”
Yes, sadly. I missed having a short workday on Fridays.
“Tuesday,” I replied with a nod.
“Fuck.” Willow paced restlessly outside Downtown High’s pool complex and faltered every time she looked toward the entrance. “I don’t think I can do it, Avery.”
Okay, time to take over. I’d let her have ten minutes after we’d parked, but the anxiety was winning.
“Come here.” I closed the distance between us and hugged her to me. Darius and Ryan called her Squeezy because the tightest of hugs centered her. “I want you to listen to me, okay?”
She nodded jerkily and tucked her hands between us. “You have my headphones, right?”
“They’re right here, honey.” I held them behind her back. “It’s going to be crowded in there, but you don’t have to let go of me for a second,” I said. “I won’t leave your side until you’re ready.” I tightened my hold on her and felt a bit of stiffness leaving her shoulders.
“How long do we have?” she asked and shuddered.
I twisted my wrist to check my watch. “Her event starts in twenty minutes.”
Mary and Pipsqueak had been here all day; for some reason, swim meets started at an ungodly hour and the whole team had to be present, even those who didn’t have their events until later.
The rest of the family had arrived an hour ago, and Darius had texted recently to ask if I needed help with Willow, who’d wanted to postpone coming here until the last minute.
“You can do this, Willow.” I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her even harder.
“I’m—I’m…f-fuck.” She was going nonverbal.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I murmured. “Talking is overrated anyway. It’s okay. I’ll be here.”
Pipsqueak would probably be nonverbal after today too. She didn’t get overwhelmed as easily as Willow, but an event like this was bound to do it. Thankfully, she had a place in the locker rooms where she could catch some quiet time whenever she needed. Her coach was really supportive about it.
“You ready for me to handle everything?” I asked.
Willow nodded minutely.
“I’ll take you straight to Darius,” I promised. “He’s saving us seats. We’ll squeeze you right in between us. How’s that?”
Another nod.
“Okay. I’ll keep the path clear. Just hold on to my arm and stay a little behind me.” I let her go slowly and remembered to tuck her hair behind her ears before I put on her headphones. All the quirks these two girls had… But once you tapped into their language, it was pretty fucking amazing to be given their trust.
On the way in—and toward the bleachers—I took a couple detours to avoid the crowds near the two concession stands.
Willow stayed close to me and appeared to relax a little. Perhaps she’d imagined something worse than this.
The noise at the pool was probably what bothered her the most, though the headphones drowned out some of it. What bothered me the most was the humidity. Christ. I loosened my tie and scanned the packed bleachers for familiar faces. There were seven rows that stretched the length of the pool, and I was glad it was a short-course meet. If it’d been a fifty-yard pool, it would’ve been impossible to find the Quinns.
I spotted Ethan around the same time he spotted me, and I drew Willow toward my front instead. I pointed them out to her. They’d gotten seats fairly close to an aisle, meaning we wouldn’t be knocking any people down on our way there.
Willow nodded and clutched my hand, then climbed the steps to the fourth row, and Darius stepped out and extended his hand when we got near.
“We got you, baby girl,” he said.
She flew into his arms without letting go of my hand. I chuckled and went with her.
Willow flushed and smiled sheepishly as Darius and I made truth of my words and squeezed her in between us.
Okay, we’d made it. Now I could focus on Pipsqueak.
Darius filled me in about what I’d missed; Mary was in the locker room with Pipsqueak, and they would come out right before her heat. She had two in total, the first one being the 100-yard freestyle. Medley came last in the day, and she’d do 400 yards. I suspected that was what she was the most nervous about.
I had no doubt she’d perform well. She advanced very quickly. She was single-focused and dropped everything around her when she started a new hobby.
In a short period of time, she’d climbed the metaphorical ranks and become one of the fastest girls on the team.
“Over there.” Ethan pointed to where the swimmers went in and out of a set of doors, presumably leading to the locker rooms.
My stomach flipped and tightened weirdly when I saw her. She wasn’t the twelve-year-old in PJs and messy pigtails I’d had her catalogued as in my mind. Pipsqueak was slowly but surely becoming an extraordinary young woman. She walked with purpose in her step, Mary walking alongside her and offering her what I assumed was a pep talk. Whatever she said made Pipsqueak nod firmly.
She only wore a hoodie that was at least two sizes too large, while Mary held her towel, water bottle, and swim cap.
The event was announced over the speakers, and I knew Pipsqueak was in the second heat. Her goal was to score a time good enough to start in the first heat next meet. Or something like that. The terminology was confusing at times.
Six swimmers were introduced for the first heat, not that I paid attention. I didn’t pay attention when one of the officials signaled the swimmers to start either. My eyes were glued to Pipsqueak and Mary down in the corner. Soon, her coach joined them too.
Pipsqueak nodded along to whatever the guy was saying as she shed her hoodie and revealed her black bathing suit. A set of showers was nearby, and she stepped under one to cool down a bit. This part, I knew. She was sensitive to drastic temperature changes; they could shock her if it happened too quickly.
She was finished once she’d donned her cap and goggles, and then she joined the group of girls who were waiting in the background at the short end of the pool. They were next.
Christ, I felt kind of nervous.
Watching her stand there next to the other girls put her in a league of her own. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but she stood out. Two of the girls looked like they’d trained for the event their whole lives, and they’d already developed the swimmer’s body, complete with wider shoulders and flat chests. The other girls were here for the credits. Hips cocked, bubble gum popping, giggling—one of them was checking her phone. And then there was Pipsqueak. Softness and grace. Her posture screamed of razor-sharp focus without giving her a militant look. She jumped in place, rolled her shoulders, and adjusted her bathing suit.
I was fucking proud of her. Year after year, she tackled her insecurities and pushed herself to do better—to do what everyone else around her was doing. She refused to fall behind.
Once the swimmers from the first heat were out of the water, Pipsqueak and the others got ready.
“Take your mark,” a distorted voice ordered. The official sounded like a robot.
“Why the fuck am I nervous?” Darius leaned forward, planting his elbows on his thighs, and he cracked his knuckles.
I folded my arms over my chest, nervous myself, and watched Pipsqueak get into her starting position up on the block. Fingers touched the edge of the block lightly, one foot crept back for leverage.
The instant the signal blared, my pulse went through the roof. The six swimmers dove in, and I zeroed in on Pipsqueak’s lane. The middle lane, to be exact. She resurfaced after a forceful dolphin kick and sliced through the water with perfect elegance.
“She’s faster than this,” I heard James say. “Why’s she takin’ it easy?”
“Because she’s smart,” Ethan replied. “Hundred yards on a short-course ain’t for sprinters. She’s saving her strength.”
I bi
t my thumbnail like a goddamn child and hoped he was right.
For the first two laps, Pipsqueak was last or second to last.
But then something happened. With two turns down, she kicked off from the wall with more force than before, and when she resurfaced, she took one breath. That was it. Her head didn’t turn again until she was almost about to turn once more. And by then, she was in third place.
“Holy shit.” Before I knew it, both Ethan and I were standing up.
“Go, Elise!” Ethan let out a sharp whistle. “Push it! You’re almost there!”
“Look at my girl go!” James hollered.
She’d stopped breathing again, and the sprint was on.
The bleachers erupted in cheers and claps, and I just barely managed to tear my gaze away to make sure Darius was holding on to Willow before I refixed my stare. Pipsqueak was in second place, and then she was in fucking first place, and I couldn’t fucking believe it. She slammed a hand against the touchpad on the wall like the motherfucking winner she was.
I whistled sharply and applauded with the others.
“Ave.”
I glanced down at Darius and instantly noticed Willow was too overwhelmed to stay.
“I gotta get her home,” he said.
James heard that and peered around Ethan. “What’s wrong? Sweetheart, you wanna sit here with me?”
Willow didn’t respond at all. She was shutting down.
There was a rapid debate on who was going to take her home, but it was a simple decision to me. They were here to watch their daughter and sister; I could take care of Willow.
“Both of you stay,” I told them. “Come on, hon. I’ll get you out of here.” I helped her on her feet, and she snuck close. I knew what she needed, but I hoped she could wait until we were in the parking lot.
“You sure, man?” Darius hesitated.
“No problem. I’ll stay with her for a bit. Tell Pipsqueak I’ll see her later.”
Sensing that Willow couldn’t stay another second, I began ushering her down from the bleachers.
There would be other meets, so I wasn’t too bothered by leaving. Additionally, the others were going to wait approximately an hour before Pipsqueak’s next heat.
Lastly, fuck the humidity in here.
As soon as we were outside, I guided Willow over to an empty spot and dutifully hugged her tightly to me. The fresh air felt ridiculously good, though I knew the cold would get to us sooner rather than later. Washington in February wasn’t a great place to leave your jacket in the car. The only thing stupider would’ve been to bring it into the pool complex.
“Pinch me if you want space, hon.”
It would be a while before she could communicate, both verbally and through sign language. Unlike the rest of the family, who were fairly fluent in ASL, I’d only learned the bare minimum to be able to handle emergencies.
While I held her, I pulled out my phone to fire off a text to Pipsqueak. I didn’t want her to think I’d left because I didn’t want to see her.
So fucking proud of you, Pipsqueak. My heart was racing the whole time. :) Had to take your sister home, but stop by tomorrow if you don’t have plans. I’m home all day.
I had a feeling she’d shut down tonight and go to bed early.
Twelve
The following Tuesday, I met up with Taylor at a Starbucks in the Valley, and I’d already decided to end our little…whatever I could call it. It didn’t feel right anymore, and frankly, I wanted to walk away before anything happened that destroyed the progress I’d made. She hadn’t hurt me; I hadn’t hurt her.
After I’d paid for our beverages, we found an empty corner, and I started off like I usually did—by giving her a report on Keira.
To be honest, I didn’t believe Taylor had any reason to worry anymore. Keira was doing well in school. She was smarter than most of her peers and didn’t have to struggle to get a decent grade.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Taylor smiled and completely ruined her coffee by emptying four packets of artificial sweetener into the mug. That was worse than Pipsqueak dumping a truckload of sugar into hers. “She’s more talkative at home, too.”
“That’s good.” I shrugged out of my jacket and caught sight of an optician’s place across the street. It reminded me that I had to bite the bullet and make an appointment soon.
“So, you said something last time that made me think.” Taylor wasn’t wasting any time. “You said you’re not ready to date.”
“Yeah?” I sipped my coffee, then leaned back in my seat.
“When you were my teacher, you were married,” she went on and quirked a brow.
She was asking if there was any correlation, I assumed.
I drew a breath and let the reminder of Angie wash over me. Fragments of memories flickered before my eyes, the hell culminating with my getting arrested.
“It ended as badly as it could, basically,” I admitted with a slow nod. “She betrayed me, and then… Let’s just say I went after her tenfold. Some of which she probably didn’t deserve.”
I waited for the regret to sink in, regret at opening up, but there was nothing. Not a damn thing.
It was a fucking relief.
“And you haven’t dated since?” Taylor seemed surprised by that.
“I’m not a serial dater. On the contrary, it takes me quite a while to move on.”
She smiled wryly. “And here I was, thinking men got over one woman by getting under another.”
“Uh.” I snorted and rubbed the back of my neck. Getting under a woman—or behind one—didn’t mean there would be a relationship to speak of. “It’s not as if I’ve been a monk.”
“Gotcha.” She eyed me contemplatively. “So, how is having coffee with me a way to use me?”
Yeah, that was the question I’d been waiting for.
The first time I’d proposed we go out for coffee—to talk—it’d been to get a better feel for her recovery. I hadn’t wanted to insert myself into anything that might result in a setback in her grieving process. Or worse, anything that would allow her to develop an unhealthy coping mechanism. But in the end, I’d discovered the chats were beneficial to me too. She got to talk about her parents and sister, and I was given the opportunity to analyze a woman I didn’t detest, as well as push myself to be nicer.
“By doing this.” I gestured between us. “By sitting here, listening to you, by answering your questions without telling you to fuck off and mind your own business.” I mustered a smile to show I was kidding. Somewhat.
She chuckled at least. “It’s been that bad?”
She’d never know more than a fraction of it.
“You could say that.” I took another swig of my coffee. “I’ve been…unfair, to put it mildly. I’ve let my less-than-stellar experience with women determine that all women were terrible.”
Something softened in Taylor’s eyes. “Women do that all the time too. It takes two shitty boyfriends, and then we’re telling our friends that guys suck.”
“Heh.” I exhaled a laugh, and I actually appreciated her saying that. That said, my feelings toward women had gone beyond saying “they suck.”
This felt good, though. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t a bitter outcast who’d grown up without guidance and someone to tell me there were plenty of fish in the sea. In Taylor’s eyes, I was merely another schmuck who’d been slapped with trust issues from a bad marriage.
She knew there was more than that, but she didn’t push. For now, anyway.
The whole experience was leaving me frustrated and a bit embarrassed, because it was in times like these that it became painfully clear how poorly I’d been raised. Childhood to me had been a matter of life and death. I’d been stunted emotionally and probably bit harder than most, like some abused dog. Having never been taught how to compartmentalize or process feelings, I’d become unpredictable and sometimes volatile. If there was a threat, I charged. Hard and fast.
“Penny for your thoughts?�
� Taylor asked.
Damn. I hadn’t even realized I’d spent however long staring at my coffee.
“I was just…puzzling together some pieces about myself, I guess.”
“And you don’t feel like sharing them with the class,” she said knowingly.
I smiled slightly. “Correct, but if it makes you feel better, it’s partly because of you. Meeting you. I’m glad that happened.”
“Oh wow.” She grinned and tapped her chin. “That may be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I chuckled.
Out on the street, I spotted Darius and Willow, both carrying their gym bags. Probably heading to Ethan’s gym.
“Keira and I are moving to New York after she graduates.”
I snapped my gaze back to Taylor. She’d caught me off guard, but…perhaps not. The more I thought about it, it made sense. Their dad had been from the East Coast, and it was where they had family. Except for their grandparents, who’d moved to Florida after retiring.
“I think that’s a good decision,” I replied. “You should get back to school too.”
She’d dropped out of college when their parents had died.
“You’re such a teacher,” she teased.
I smirked faintly, despite that my comment hadn’t come from my love for teaching. It was my love for education. School was always going to be a ticket to better places, and learning was constantly a port in the storm. When thunder rolled in and lightning struck, you could get lost in a textbook or study a new subject. For the longest time, my most valued possession had been a library card.
“Why did you become a teacher?” she asked curiously. “You hate your students, Avery.”
I grinned quickly and drank from my coffee. That perception about me wasn’t going away, I reckoned.
“It’s a double-edged sword,” I started by saying. “Teaching at Ponderosa High is slowly sucking the life out of me because most students are spoiled rotten and don’t care about how lucky they are. At the same time, it’s a fantastic institution and workplace. The pay is good, the students in the AP classes are my fuel… I love teaching them because they want to learn. Phil—the principal—tells the students’ parents that I’m the guy they want to prepare their kids for college.”