“Dude, you pee off a high dive once in 8th grade and you never live it down!” Gabe smirks at me.
I smirk back. I need to chill the fuck out or I’m going to give myself away.
“Look,” Gabe says, “I know Chandler can be kind of a d-bag, especially toward women, but he really is a cool guy once you get past the rich kid façade. He’s just as insecure as anyone else is.”
“If you say so.”
Gabe reaches over and chucks me under the chin. “I say so.”
Travis meets us at the entrance to the aquatic center. He nods hello to me and then says, “Thanks for letting us do this. Every year since I stopped swimming I get more sentimental for the good ol’ days when Gabe and I were kings of the pool.”
“I remember Gabe being a king,” I say. “You were more of a baron.”
“Ouch!” Gabe says, laughing. “Not even a duke, bro!”
“Whatever, plebes,” Travis jokes, and it seems like he really is just joking and not trying to be backhanded about it.
I unlock the door, wait for them to go through, and then lock it behind them. We head off to our respective locker rooms and then meet out on the pool deck.
“The stupid battery that stupid Greg is supposed to charge is dead once again,” Gabe says, imitating me. We both flip off the chair lift.
“Give me a hand, will ya?” Travis asks. Without waiting for an answer, he rolls Gabe over to the shallow end with the stairs and locks the wheels on his chair. “I’ll lift up one side and you take the other.”
“Oh, you two,” Gabe says sweetly as he brushes a fake tear from his eye. “You put the T and A in team work.”
“I guess I don’t need to ask which one of us is the ass?” Travis says.
I get on the opposite side of Gabe from Travis and slide my right hand under Gabe’s knee. Gabe puts his arms around our shoulders. Travis and I make eye contact, take a breath, and lift Gabe up. Even with both of us doing the work, Gabe is not the lightest guy.
“Don’t your legs weigh, like a pound each by now? How are you getting heavier and not turning into a fatty?”
Gabe flexes his pecs in response. Travis starts laughing and lets his grip slip a bit.
“Can we just get in the pool, jackholes?” I blurt.
I step down into the water in tandem with Travis when something occurs to me. “Hey, one of you is lying. Gabe said he hadn’t been in the water and Travis, you said you hadn’t been swimming with him since his accident. How do you know that’s he’s gotten heavier?”
“Because he’s lifted me into my chair a billion times.” Gabe rolls his eyes. “Chicks always be tryin’ to catch you in a lie!”
Travis doesn’t find this quite as hilarious as Gabe and gives me a tentative smile.
“When a billion times?” I press on. We take another step down.
Travis shrugs. “On breaks and stuff, y’know. I, uh, felt horrible that it all went down at my house and I wanted Gabe to know that we’d always be friends, no matter what.”
“Yeah, like, I totally resent you, but besides that, we’re good, man.”
We stand on the last step, holding Gabe up is much easier now with the help of the water. “What’s our plan here?” I ask.
“Let’s get out a little deeper so his feet don’t drag,” Travis says. “Gabe and I want to try something – it may be a total fail – but it will work better if you help us.”
“Uh oh, I don’t like the sound of that.” I think about what Gabe’s mom told me yesterday and wonder if he’s up for whatever shenanigans Travis has planned.
“So, I was going to attempt to swim underwater with Gabe holding onto me, but now that I’ve seen how much our boy has grown, I think it’s going to take two of us to haul his buff ass around.”
“See, honey? It’s like swimming with dolphins!”
I shoot Gabe a look of death while Travis starts making Flipper noises.
“First off, fuck you both. Second off,” I smile great big, “I’m game.”
More dolphin hysterics from Travis. I really want to refuse to warm up to the guy, but I’m warming up to the guy.
“How am I going to hold onto you both? I can get a decent grip on Brynn’s swimsuit, but it would be better if you all had a harness on or something.”
“Plus, I’d rather you not pull my swimsuit off in mixed company.”
Gabe nods. “Well, there is that.”
“What if we take the belts of the Styrofoam floaters? You all have those here?” Travis asks.
“Good idea,” I say, getting excited. I gently drop my side of Gabe and trudge through the water back up the stairs and head to the closet where we keep all the gear. After searching for a couple minutes – I’ll admit to not being the neatest when putting the gear back after class – I find two floaters and slide the white nylon belts off of them. These will work perfectly.
Travis and I take turns helping Gabe stay above water white the other puts on their belt. When we’re both ready, Gabe takes a sturdy tug on the belts one at a time and they stay put.
I lean in and kiss him quickly. “This is going to be fun.”
We walk down the length of the pool until I can barely touch the floor on my tippy toes.
“Ready?” Travis asks me and Gabe.
“Let’s give it a go,” Gabe answers.
We collectively take a deep breath and submerge as one. Right off the bat, I kick Gabe in the side and Travis and I can’t quite get our rhythm sorted, he’s taller than I am and stronger, so he has to adjust down to my pace. By the third time we surface for air, though, we’ve got our routine down. Stroke and kick three times, glide, stroke and kick two times, up for air. Turning around when we reach the end of the lane results in a minor fuck up and I’m sure Gabe is gonna have some wall scratches on his legs, but I think we’re all enjoying swimming together so much that he won’t hold it against us.
After two rounds, Gabe tugs on our belts and we surface next to the wall so we can all hold on and catch our breath.
“That was amazing! Thank you, humanoid dolphins,” Gabe says, wiping the water from his face with his hand. “I think I’ve had all I can handle for one night, though.”
“Me too,” Travis says. “Between hauling your poundage and having to stroke short to keep at Brynn’s pace, I’m beat. You guys want to go grab some dinner? My treat.”
“I want you to say stroke short again,” Gabe says, laughing.
“Don’t know why, you should be used to hearing it. Brynn probably has to stroke you short all the time.”
Gabe and I both turn a beety hue and that gets Travis going even more.
“Oh my God, Brynn. Have you touched my friend’s penis?”
“Not as many times as you have—” I say.
“Not as many times as you bro—” Gabe says at the same time.
“Ooh, looks like I’m not the only who owes him dinner then, lady.”
“I believe you said it was your treat, Travis. No take backs,” I say.
“Fine, fine. Can we hoist Big Boy back into his chair now?”
I wait in the lobby for the guys to finish getting ready. Whoever said that women take longer apparently never dated a guy in a chair or one with a product regimen.
Travis actually comes out first, looking and smelling way better than I do. Guess there’s something to be said for caring about how you look. He gives me a once over and grins.
“I’m enjoying hanging out with you,” he says finally.
“Jeez, don’t act so surprised. Although, it’s…”
Travis sighs. “It is. Listen, I wanted you to know that I spoke with Izzy the—”
“You did what?” I put my hand over his mouth. “Gabe can’t hear any of this.”
Travis reaches up and removes my hand from his mouth. “He’s going to be at least five more minutes – he’s dealing with his catheter.”
“So you talked to Izzy and what? Paid her off? Scared her into another bender?” I back away from hi
m, suddenly not feeling as friendly as I had earlier.
He takes a deep breath. “I told her I’ve been thinking of turning myself in and if she wanted to press charges against me she could and that I was sorry for all the pain I’d caused her.” Travis nods at me. “And the same goes for you. That afternoon was the weakest moment of my life and my friend has to pay for it the rest of his.”
“How did you know about Liam? I barely knew then.”
Travis shrugs. “He told me. There was this party in a field out by Lance Suzuki’s place and everyone was doing tequila shots.” He closes his eyes. “I told Liam that I was gay and he said that was cool, and that he likes to wear dresses.”
“You’re gay? Then why all the … does Gabe know?”
Travis nods. “You guys are the only ones that know in Boise. I’m very much out at school –
I’m still working on coming out to my family. I thought I’d start with the higher priority secret first.” He takes a deep breath. “Look, all I ask, and Izzy agreed to this as well, is that we all tell Gabe together what happened. He needs to hear it from all three of us or he’s not going to believe it. Gabe thinks the best of people, but you and Izzy know the real me, the worst part of me.”
I cross my arms over my chest, defiant. “No. I don’t want to tell him. Ever. It’s selfish of us to want to put our burden on him. If you really care about him, think about … his mom said he’s doing so much better now and any setback would just … we can’t. We’ve lived with it this long. I mean, if Izzy wants to press charges against you and needs my testimony about what explicitly happened between you two, I can help, but otherwise, count me out. He means too much to me and I’m not going to let anyone hurt him.”
“You don’t think he’d be glad to know it was you that saved his life?” Travis asks, his voice soft.
“I don’t care if he knows it was me and not you!” I says, as loud as I dare. “I want to be responsible for his happiness now, not what I did back then.”
Travis stares at me hard and runs his hand through his hair. “I get that,” he says through gritted teeth, “but I don’t think I can keep the secret anymore. It’s tearing me up inside.”
I shrug. “Then find yourself a $300 an hour psychiatrist and tell him. Learn to be uncomfortable for once. That’s how everyone else goes through life.”
Gabe rolls into the lobby, clapping his hands together. “Okay, where we gonna eat? And, Travis, if you dare say something foul like between my mom’s legs I swear to God I’ll have my girlfriend kick you in the nuts.”
Chapter Twelve
Thankfully, Travis goes back to school on Saturday morning, so I only have to endure one last dinner with the guy, pretending to like him for Gabe’s sake. The problem is, he’s not the worst human ever – he’s trying to make amends in the way he thinks is best and I can’t hate him for that. I simply don’t agree with him. At. All.
Saturday night Gabe and I go to the movies like regular people on a regular date, except we have to sit in the first row aisle and people are real jackholes about not noticing us sitting there. They stand around chatting about where they’re going to sit or look for their friends. Meanwhile, the opening credits begin and we’re stuck staring at a bunch of indecisive asses and muffin tops.
We go to the rooftop after and make out in the cold. I bring a jacket this time, so we are warm until we are hot.
Sunday, Gabe’s mom makes him stay home to rest up before work on Monday. He listens because I think he is tired. Jokes are made via text about me being too much woman for him. I fear maybe it’s true. Things between us have moved fast and are intense.
I’m feeling, not quite overwhelmed or unsure, but definitely like I haven’t given things any sort of thorough consideration. I want him and I found a way to be with him. It is more initiative than I usually take with anything. Most of the time, I lay the groundwork and then wait to see what will happen. Gabe is different. I hadn’t planned anything. I hadn’t evaluated the best way to snag him for a boyfriend – he just became my boyfriend. Even breaking up with Andy hadn’t been that troublesome.
It is funny to think about Andy now, a few days later. He’d been a little jealous of my feelings for Gabe, which made me feel like maybe I’d tried more with Andy than I’d given myself credit for. I know, without a doubt, that I can count on Andy if I ever need him to help me out as a friend. Not everyone gets to have that kind of relationship in their life. Liam and Ari certainly don’t. She’d done the opposite of protect what they’d had together.
Being Andy’s girlfriend has been a good training ground and can only help me with Gabe. My feelings for Gabe are all over the place and crazy and not the stable, constant feelings I’d had for Andy, but that is also good. I’m diving in, as Gabe says, and I’m bound to be a bit afraid of the water coming at me so quickly.
Monday morning arrives and I do my routine, apart from checking Facebook, because seriously, who gives an eff? Streak across my room, slight thrill, turn on shower, brush teeth and lay out clothes, shower, dress, eat cookies, fill up the coffee cups. I use my spare for Gabe. I haven’t even asked him if he likes coffee, never mind how he likes his coffee, but I’m betting on him being a member of the human race and requiring its caffeiney goodness to wake up.
I go downstairs and find Gabe and Junnuen by the back door waiting for me. They’re both holding Venti cups from Starbucks and letting the steam from the hot coffee warm their faces. I notice Gabe has another cup sitting in a beverage holder on his lap.
“Morning! Looks like we’re going to be super caffeinated today,” I say.
He offers me the coffee. “Isn’t that the only way to be? Take this will ya, I’m pretty sure I’m burning my leg through the fabric of these slacks.”
“Steam press,” Junnuen remarks and giggles.
“Junnuen! I knew you habla’d the ingles more than you let on.” I hand her my lowly homemade coffee before taking the one that Gabe is offering. I line the three cups up against my chest and hold them pinned with one arm while I fish the keys from my jacket pocket and unlock the door. Junnuen goes through and then I nod for Gabe to go next, but his chair is about a half inch too wide to make it through.
“Shit, I was afraid of that. You’ll have to go through the front door until I can figure out a fix. Sorry.”
Gabe smiles up at me. “No biggie, boss.”
I lean down to kiss him and feel the burn of hot coffee on my arm too late before I dribble it all over Gabe’s unzipped jacket and white button down shirt.
“Good thing I work at a dry cleaners, eh?”
“Good thing.” I set the coffees on the concrete. “I didn’t burn you, did I? I could feel it through two layers of fabric.”
Gabe shrugs his jacket off his shoulders some and then begins unbuttoning his shirt stripper style – complete with grindhouse music.
“You are one sexy crippled guy, you know that.”
He looks down at his chest. The skin is red, but not blistered or anything. “Either that or you’ve got a fetish you never knew about.”
“Oh, I knew about it. I telepathically willed you to come into this store so I could get some of your sweet, sweet wheelchair lovin’.” I pick the coffees up. “Meet you around front.”
“Work is awesome so far,” he says over his shoulder as he rolls around the corner.
I go inside and set all of the coffees down on my desk in the office, then start looking through the unclaimed clothing box for a white shirt or even just a plain button down Gabe can wear. Sometimes people don’t pick up their clothes. Maybe they switch cleaners and are too embarrassed to come back and get that one thing they left with us. People die and no one bothers to get their dry cleaning. All sorts of reasons. My grandpa is fond of saying you can learn a lot about people’s dirty laundry from their dirty laundry. I pull out a light blue shirt that will work well enough and run to meet Gabe at the front.
“You do know I roll in this thing literally as fast as I used
to walk.”
“Sorry. I was getting you a clean shirt.” I drop it in his lap as he rolls past me.
“Ooh, blue, I don’t think my boss will like that. She was pretty specific that I needed to wear a white dress shirt. So much so, my poor mother was at Ross the Saturday after Black Friday picking through the leftovers.”
“Your boss sounds like a real bitch. Just put on the blue shirt. Feel free to keep it.”
“Score! Second awesome thing about working at a dry cleaners and I haven’t even been here for ten minutes.”
I smirk at him. “So, we don’t have a break room. You can either hang your jacket up by the back door on the hooks that are…” Well, those aren’t going to work. “…out of your reach. Or, you can stick it underneath the counter, here.” I point to the space underneath the register.
Gabe takes off his coat and then his shirt, stuffing them under the counter. I can’t help but stare at him in his white undershirt and think things that could definitely be called workplace sexual harassment. This may have been my worst idea ever. How am I going to concentrate on business when I’m spending my days next to my source of pleasure?
“Hey, I know I look good, but at some point a customer is going to come in and you should probably show me how to do something.”
“Probably.”
We go through the rigmarole of getting the register started and the cash drawer in. There’s a bit of trouble regarding the safe, in that my office is tiny and it took him some maneuvering to even be in the office with me to see the counting in and safe procedure. But, I assure him this is something he won’t have to do that often, only in the event that I have to be somewhere else and I am never somewhere else, so he doesn’t even need to worry about it.
Next, we get to the nitty gritty of his job. Customer service.
“When you came in—”
“And you womanhandeled my junk.”
“Aaaaaafter that,” I drawl. “I looked up your account on the computer like this.” I show him our super easy account set up. “Now, if you hadn’t had an account, you can create a new one like this.” I have him set up his own account for practice. He catches on quick and it’s a breeze. “After you locate the customer, you find what kind of garment or whatever they’ve brought in on the form and you click on that…and then quantity, good, and then their starch and hanger preference.”
Diving In (Open Door Love Story) Page 8