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"So tell me, Melody, how was your first year teaching?" Rosa asks while filling the sink with water to wash the dishes.
"Well, it was an adjustment for sure, but with that first year out of the way, I will be better prepared for them next year! The kids are great. Our scores, however, are not fantastic. So I need to find a way to help. Maybe take some classes or workshops." She takes a bite of her taco and groans her appreciation. This taco is phenomenal; it's like a burst of flavor exploding on your tongue, but most importantly, it feels so much like home. She almost tears up.
Noting the change in Melody's emotions, Rosa comes over, drying her hands with her apron, and embraces her.
"Mija, don't worry, whatever you are going through it means nothing in the long run. God will put good things in your path. You have to remember that." She says with so much passion, that she can't help it, she lets the emotion burst out of her. She cries, ugly and hard, soaking through Rosa’s blouse. The guilt of her budding relationship with Nash, both physical and emotional. The feelings of inferiority of being cheated on multiple times and the shame of letting it happen.
"Okay, okay, that's enough now." Rosa shushes. "Here." She hands her a lunch pack. Confused, Melody looks up at her.
"I need you to take this to Graham. He is at the pool. Pobrecito, he forgot his lunch, and he has back-to-back lessons today."
"You need me to take this? To Graham? I could get Marisol, maybe she can do it." Melody fumbles for a way out of this. She had just sworn to stay away from him, and here Rosa was, pushing her right in his path.
"Oh you know Marisol, she sleeps too late, lunchtime will have come and gone by the time she graces us with her presence." She says.
Then, as if an afterthought. "Oh, and please invite Coach Max to the barbeque today. I hear he is single." She says with a bit of wiggle to her shoulder and a sparkle in her eye. That conniving little matchmaker. This was a setup. She remembers Coach Max. She was a few years ahead of him at school. He is on the younger side but still more age-appropriate than Graham. She could see why Rosa had picked him.
"Okay, Rosa, I'll make sure to mention it to him."
"Thank you, Mija. I made enough sandwiches for you and Coach Max, too, you know, just in case." She gives her a wink. "Don't worry, Mija. Everything will work out exactly like it was meant to."
Melody makes her way back to Marisol's room dejectedly. She was trying to avoid Nash, and now she has to go straight to him. This wasn't going as planned. None of this was. Shedding her comfortable sweats, she opts for another jersey knit dress. It's comfortable and form-fitting, giving her a lovely silhouette, plus light enough to weather the humidity of the pool. There is no reason why she couldn’t at least look good. You know, just in case.
She pulls her hair up in a high ponytail, adds some lipgloss, and is done. Throwing some sandals at her feet, she walks out the door, lunch box in hand.
The drive to the natatorium was automatic, she had been taking this route, forever, having dropped Graham, no, dropped Nash off many times. Her phone buzzes in the cupholder, but she doesn't make a move to pick it up. It's either Duke or Nash, and she doesn't really want to hear from either of them. She doesn't listen to music on the way over there, the quiet acting as an incubator for her thoughts. After a full 20 minutes in traffic and then another 15 minutes parked outside the pool, she tries to pep talk her way through it.
You can do this. Just walk through those doors, ask for Graham, drop off the bag, and invite Max. Then, you just hustle your ass out of there, Melody. No big deal. In and out.
A sharp rap at her window startles her. Making her physically react, practically jumping out of her skin. She turns her head, ready to berate whoever had the bad sense to knock at her window.
Of course, there stands Coach Max, with a massive smile on his face. He is a handsome guy with blond hair, pretty baby blue eyes, and a wide happy grin. His face is a little harder than Nash’s, with a small scar on his lip. Like Nash, he has wide set shoulders and a little thicker, like he spends more time doing manual labor than athletics.
"Well, look who we have here! Melody Grace, I didn't think I would be seeing you until the barbecue."
She looked up at him, puzzled. "Rosa invited me, so I'm assuming her matchmaking skills are to blame." He gave her a winning smile.
She smiles sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Melody responds, attempting to gracefully extricate herself from the compact. This thing is ancient, but it still runs like a charm. Her dad does a fantastic job keeping it running.
"Here, let me help you." He says, pulling the lunch box out of her hands while she closes the door.
"Thanks!” She says, mustering up some enthusiasm, false enthusiasm, but hey, fake it ‘till you make it, right? “I’m supposed to take that out to Graham, actually. Any chance you want to just take it up to him? I know you guys can get super busy." She asks hopefully, batting her eyelashes, trying to get what she wants.
"He should be finishing up already. I have a class right now, but you can just go right on in!"
Crap, he isn’t taking the bait, maybe she is out of practice. She will have to work on that.
"Oh, wonderful. Ok then." She grates out through clenched teeth, a fake smile plastered on her face.
"I'll walk you up, " he says, opening the door to the natatorium for her and putting his hand on his lower back to guide her to the right place.
"Thanks again, Max. I don't want to keep you from your class, " she says, feeling a little uncomfortable with his hand on her back. It was downright awkward if she was being honest. She barely even knew the guy.
"Not a problem, Melody. I don't want you to get lost." He leans in just a little too close. Close enough that she could smell his cologne; he didn’t smell anything like Nash. She steps in a little closer, trying to get a feel for him. His scent isn’t particularly unappealing. It just doesn’t make her heart flutter.
The sharp metallic teel of a whistle jolts them apart. She turns to the source; a glowering Nash stands in the shallow end of the pool with a whistle still in his mouth.
"I'll just head that way then." She says as she makes her way over, lunch box in hand, waiting for his approach by the pool's edge. Children are exiting the water as he slowly wades his way towards her as she stands above him. He looks up at her with hesitation swimming in his eyes. He shucks off his swim cap, shaking out his hair. Arms crossed and leaning on the edge of the pool, his head tipped upward at her.
