Hank was not Ben. Ben had been the obvious choice. He was going places. He would be a college athlete. He got great grades. Everyone—the whole swim team, the entire straight, sane female population of Wheaton— wanted Ben, and he had chosen Erin.
Hank was different. On paper, he was not her type. On paper, she wouldn’t give a tattooed construction worker the time of day.
But Hank made her think. He opened up a new world, and not something superficial like the names of constellations. Hank was interesting. Thoughtful. And that stuff about Thoreau? He also was smart. For the first time, Erin’s eyes were open. Smart people could make their lives about something other than academics and advanced degrees. That was the real surprise.
Looking at the whole life thing, Hank was far wiser than she. Or, at the very least, he had gotten there sooner. He saw through her. He saw into her, to parts of herself she was only starting to understand. She wanted more of that.
Always ask for what you want and always do what makes you happy.
She wanted Hank. She liked who she was when she was with him. More than that, he had helped her figure out what happy meant. For her.
Before she could change her mind, she pulled out her phone.
Erin: If you’re not too far away, can you come back to my house?
Hank: No worries.
She sat on the front stoop for a thousand years before walking to the end of the driveway. No headlights. She paced between number 33 and number 37. She couldn’t go inside yet, because if he came back, she’d have to explain the whole thing to Felicity. She needed him to come back before she went inside.
She’d wait forever.
She didn’t need to. He pulled in, with half his truck hanging in the sidewalk, and rolled down his window.
That beautiful, crooked grin under chocolate eyes. “Forget something?”
She stuck her head inside his truck and kissed him. Firmly.
He didn’t kiss back.
“Oh my god.” Wide-eyed, Erin bit her lip. “Oh my god. I am so sorry. Good night.”
Erin ran up the driveway, her shadow shrinking on the front door. She kicked off her shoes outside and slipped into the house. Pippa crafted something on the dining room table as Felicity made tea.
“Hi, Erin! How was rock climbing? Are you hurting?”
Erin burst into tears. “Not feeling well.” She ran to her room, hurting badly. She felt like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.
Someone knocked on her door.
“I’ll be fine in the morning, Felicity.”
More knocking.
“I already had tea!”
The knob turned. Get the point. Seriously.
“Erin?”
Hank opened the door a crack.
Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. “I’m fine, I promise. I’m fine. I’m sorry. Just. Forget it ever happened. Please.”
He slipped inside, turned on the light, and closed the door behind him.
Hugging her knees, Erin grabbed her pillow to cover her wet nose and face. “Really, I’m fine. I’m sorry. It will never happen again.”
Gently, Hank pulled the pillow down from her face.
She hated excuses and easy letdowns and whatever else he was going to say.
But she loved his stupid jagged smile.
Oh my god, stop smiling.
Hank sat too close to her on the bed, his scent—a mix of chalk and mint—swelled in the tiny room. “Mulligan?”
He kissed her softly, then intensely, running his fingers over her back and up through her hair.
In some spaces of life, being intense was just fine.
Better than fine. Perfect.
“Pippa!” Felicity’s voice outside the door stunned them. “Give them some time alone. They’ll come out when they’re ready.”
Erin and Hank shared a glance before pressing their lips together again.
An hour later, they came up for air.
“So, when you called me back here, I put a wad of gum in my mouth. I know you and bad breath,” Hank said. “Or I thought I knew you. I knew we’d be talking close but wasn’t anticipating the kissing.”
Mmmmm. “You should anticipate kissing.”
“Sweet as.”
He kissed her again. He kissed her for a long time.
A rap on the door pushed them apart again. “Erin? It’s Pippa’s bedtime, love.”
Erin scooted a foot away from Hank. “Come in. I’ll walk Hank out.”
Erin and Hank walked past Felicity and Pippa. As they entered the living area, Erin heard Pippa say, “Ooooooh. Does she like him?”
Erin walked Hank to his car. “I like this thing. Asking for what you want.”
“You didn’t so much ask as take it. Though I have no complaints. See you soon?”
“See you soon.”
She pushed him up against the car, kissing him hard on the mouth again. Thank goodness for tall fences.
“You keep surprising me, Erin,” he said.
“I could say the same for you.”
“Maybe we’ll surprise each other again tomorrow.”
“After tea.”
“After tea, before tea. Both, I don’t care.”
“See you then.”
Hank kissed her again, quieter this time. He sucked at good-byes and sometimes was flighty, but he was very good at a lot of very important things.
Erin lingered outside long past Pippa’s bedtime. Before Erin crawled into bed, because nothing ever felt real until she told Lalitha, she texted her the news.
Erin: I think Hank and I are going to be a thing.
Erin: And I initiated it!
SIXTY-TWO
At tea Monday night, Pippa pushed her food around her plate, completely disengaged from the conversation.
Felicity said, “She’s caught wind that Ashley is having a birthday party and she wasn’t one of the few invited.”
“I thought Ashley was your best friend,” Erin said.
Pippa was quiet. “She is. I guess I’m not hers.”
That distinction was painful at any age.
Erin said, “When is this birthday party?”
“Saturday, from eleven to three at Ashley’s house.” Pippa propped her head with her hand while eviscerating her peas with a fork.
Erin said, “And all your friends will be there.”
Pippa sunk lower in her chair.
“If all your friends are busy, let’s have a sisters day. And I can have you all to myself.”
Pippa stared at her. “To do what?”
“I dunno. You tell me.”
They negotiated over dinner, and by the time they started homework at the dining room table, they had a plan: swim at Pioneer Pool and have lunch at a café.
Halfway through Erin’s Italian homework, Felicity broke the silence.
“Erin, Hank’s here.”
When she saw him, she couldn’t stop smiling at his charming, crooked teeth. “Hey.”
“Hi. I wanted to talk. I could have called but …” He dug his toe into the blue carpet. “I like seeing you.”
Felicity excused herself. Pippa’s eyes focused squarely on her book, but her pen wasn’t moving; her ears were on Erin and Hank.
Hank said, “I thought maybe we could spend the day together. Doing something alone. Saturday? Climbing? Picnic? Swimming lessons?”
Hank here was no Ben. Ben had been slick and suave and had made reservations for their first date.
“I wish I could say yes,” Erin said.
Pippa hopped between them. “She already has a date with me!”
Erin wrapped her arms around her would-be little sister. “She’s right. We’re having a sister day.”
“Bring her along!”
Pippa’s body went rigid.
“Sorry,” Erin said. “Sisters only.” Just as Erin needed time alone with Hank, Erin understood Pippa deserved time alone with her.
There would be time for Hank later.
&nbs
p; Hank grinned. “All right then. Can’t blame a bloke for trying.”
Pippa vibrated with excitement. “I win!”
“Today we have homework. I’ll walk you out.”
She and Hank stood just outside the front door.
“Homework?” Hank said.
“Some. Pippa’s kind of having a rough week. I’m here for moral support.”
“I’m sure she appreciates it. So, when are you going to teach me butterfly?” Hank asked.
“Sometime, I promise.” She wrapped her arms around Hank’s waist and kissed his soft, warm lips. He tasted like peppermint.
“More gum?” she said.
He blushed. “I was hopeful.”
They kissed under the porch light for a long time.
“Sunday?” Erin asked.
“I’m here for guitar Sunday afternoon. Morning?”
“Yes. And climbing Thursday.”
“I can pick you up after school, if you like. Any time.”
“I now have a very expensive bike I plan to use every single day to amortize the cost,” she said. “Tomorrow I’m at Marama’s house for the afternoon. They’re having trouble with Roa again.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to help, too. He’s pissed every night now.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“People don’t just get mad for no reason.”
“He’s not pissed off, he’s pissed. You know, from drinking the piss.”
“Ew.”
“Beer. Piss is beer. Drink too much and you’re pissed. Drunk.”
Erin giggled. “I’m so sorry. It’s not funny, but it’s hilarious.”
“Okay,” Hank said. “Wednesday, then?”
“Wednesday.”
She walked him to his car, where they kissed for another long time.
“Back to homework,” she said.
“Catch you later, Erin.”
She turned toward the house and straightened the line of shoes outside the door. They didn’t have a plan for Wednesday, but they’d figure it out.
Pippa was still grinning when Erin slid into her chair. “We’re still on?”
“Of course!” Maybe Erin would’ve been a different person if she’d had a sister all along. “If there’s only one thing you learn from me, Pip, it’s that you should never trade time with your girlfriends for time with a guy.”
Pippa beamed.
“What?”
“You think of me as a friend, not just a sister?”
Erin said, “I don’t even know which of those is better. You, my love, are both.”
Erin had always paid attention to how people made her feel, but for most of her life, she had wanted people only to feel that they liked her. Giving her full attention to Pippa made Pippa feel special, and making Pippa feel special made Erin’s heart soar.
At eleven, Erin admired her grandmother’s ring and the light it scattered across the ceiling.
“Your Grampa gave it to me when I turned seventeen, and when you turn seventeen, we will give it to you.”
“Really?” Erin asked.
Tea nodded. “And perhaps, someday, you’ll have a granddaughter who would like it when she turns seventeen.”
“Thanks, Grandma Tea. Thank you so much.”
Grampa flung open the door and stumbled into the house.
“You are the most important person in the world to me,” Tea said.
“Hey now,” Grampa said, through heavy breath. In an instant, Tea’s hand was over his heart.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. I’m fine. But I thought I was the most important person to you? Never mind. I was running; the Boutwell boys and their friends are fixing to race to Summer Island.”
“Someone get a new Jet Ski?” Tea asked.
“They’re swimming,” Grampa said. “I thought our Fish might give ’em a run for their money.”
Grinning, Erin ran out the door, Grampa and Tea close behind.
“Hold up! Wait!” they cried to the Boutwell gang.
Grampa and Tea followed the race in their motorboat. When it was over—once Erin had beaten the brothers to Summer Island—they gave her a lift back to the house.
“I wouldn’t have missed that for the world,” Tea said.
SIXTY-THREE
Erin had spent half her life in pools, but Pippa wanted to swim, so Saturday morning the bus dropped them at Pioneer Pool. Its lazy river, wave machine, and pool toys were a stark contrast to Erin’s lap pools.
Pippa was in heaven. They paddled in inner tubes to the lazy river and held hands while the current pushed them in circles. An alarm wailed and Pippa gave their inner tubes to what Pippa called little girls, though they couldn’t have been much younger than she was.
Pippa pulled Erin to the wave pool, where rough water churned swimmers into human soup. When the waves ceased, Pippa instructed Erin on the rules of Shark.
Erin closed her eyes until the count of ten and turned to find Pippa near a waterspout. Erin dove and headed for her, and she was eight years old again, with the freedom of unbound hair, water rushing over her scalp. Restrained by swim caps for the past ten years, she had forgotten that feeling.
She loved it.
She used to love swimming, playing in the pool, being underwater. Going swimming used to mean going to play in a pool.
Pippa squealed as Erin’s shark hands nipped lightly at her heels.
“Be the shark again!”
“In a minute. First I want to show you my favorite game.” She led Pippa to the deep end. “We’re going to be mermaids. First, we’ll go under, and you can try to restyle my mermaid hair. Okay?”
In goggles, Pippa moved Erin’s curls around in the water, but they weren’t to her liking. Seven or eight times, they dove so Erin could endure Pippa’s styling in the warm water.
Pippa popped her head out of the water and Erin stood next to her.
“Okay, here’s the challenge about being a mermaid: you have to keep your feet together at all times. Otherwise, your tail will split and you’ll become human. Be a good mermaid! And be quick! An octopus is after us!”
Erin dolphin kicked to the shallow end. She loved swimming freely.
She’d lived in her grandparents’ lake. The mermaid kicks had come later.
Mermaid kicks. Dolphin kicks?
Erin stood in the shallow end. Her favorite pool game had been a clever ruse to train her. And had her swim instructor invented Mermaid Hair so she would linger underwater? Expanding her lungs and holding her breath underwater was far easier when she had a task.
Was her whole life a complicated manipulation toward winning?
She enjoyed competitive swimming; pushing herself was a huge rush. But playing in the water—what she’d called swimming as a child—was fun. She’d stopped swimming for fun when she started racing.
Where had the fun gone, and how could she reclaim it? Fresh air might do wonders for her brain, but Erin needed something to do wonders for the rest of her.
SIXTY-FOUR
When Erin and Hank finally were alone together, he drove her to the distinguished wop wops. On their way, they’d passed a pig farm complete with little pig houses.
“We’re nearly there,” Hank said as the ratio of houses to cows transposed.
“Did you know my counselor at Ilam recommended you for guitar lessons? She sent a whole list, and you were on it.”
“And you never called?”
Erin shrugged. “I thought it would be weird. Hey, what do you hear from Gloria?” Erin asked. “I haven’t seen Jade around. Is something going on?”
“Sounds like it’s getting serious, actually. They holed up at Gloria’s house this weekend instead of climbing. That’s a big deal.”
“Does she tell you everything?”
“Do you tell Lalitha everything?”
“Touché. So that’s why you went alone to the movies during my outing with Pippa.”
“Indeed. But don’t pity me. I had
buttered popcorn for company.”
Hank pulled into a gravel driveway and they bounced toward a tiny yellow house with a huge yard in the middle of the flat nowhere.
“Should I be concerned about what Lalitha knows about me?”
“Absolutely not. I adore you, so she adores you. She is fiercely loyal. To me.”
“All right then,” he said. “Home at last. Come on in.”
Hank’s house was smaller than the Wakefields’: two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a galley kitchen.
“Used to be my parents’ place. When I started working, they shifted to their bach, so now it’s just me.”
Erin had a million questions about how he’d gotten there and why he lived alone and how he afforded it, but there were more pressing matters.
She kissed him gently, then roughly, and pulled his shirt over his head. She spied his tattoos as he wrapped his naked arms around her, but there would be time discuss those later.
Erin pulled off her own shirt. “Is this okay?”
“Of course. Of course.”
“Do you have something?”
He was confused for a second. “Rubbers, ya. Give us a sec.”
She stood half-naked in his living room, feeling only desire. Hank returned and slipped off his pants.
While they were rolling around on the floor, Erin said, “Do you like this? Is this good?”
“The best,” Hank said.
SIXTY-FIVE
One early November Monday, Erin walked into another gorgeous lunch period: big blue sky and dry grounds drenched in sunshine. Say what you will about freezing nights and wet mornings, but Christchurch had its act together by afternoon.
The guitar trio was singing “Under the Bridge” again. Or trying to.
Erin beelined to their little circle. “Ruby, I can show you a trick, if you want.”
The Ma-ori guy said, “What? You wanna have a go?”
“Sure. I’m Erin.”
“I remember. I’m Hemi.” He pulled the strap over his head and held his guitar to her.
Erin flexed her fingers “It’s a bit of a stretch here.” She played it through three times until she got it right. “Sorry, I’m rusty. So, both hands are doing two things at the same time. I learned it by spending ten minutes doing the hammer-ons with the left while I did the fingerpicking. Then I swapped and did the hammer-ons and fingerpicked with my right. Then I started over with the pull-offs. It took me weeks to get it right.”
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