Page 38 of Breathing Under Water

I close the freezer and move to the table to sit down.

“What? But he only got to town yesterday.” Just last night, Lark posted a picture of the two of them cozying up on a blanket at the beach.

“That meeting he had, the one we had to cancel the Roosevelt tour for...” She pauses to blow her nose. “It was an interview with the intercampus office. He wants to spend next semester in LA, maybe even the whole year.”

“In LA?” I ask, not following.

“When I flipped out about it, he said I don’t support his career goals and he doesn’t think he’ll ever succeed as an actor if we stay together.”

Well. I can figure out what the rest of that conversation sounded like.

“I can’t believe it,” I say.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text, and I glance down to see an unknown number. I click on it in case it’s something about Glory.

Hi, McKenna. It’s Berry, Leo’s mom. Karyn sent me your number a while back.

There’s a long message below, but I can’t deal with that now. Not when Lark needs all my attention.

“How am I supposed to just start over with someone else? I thought he was going to be my forever.”

“I’m coming over,” I say. I don’t want her to be alone with these feelings. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

I send a quick text to Rae and Jenna, telling them to pick up some Häagen-Dazs and meet me at Lark’s dorm. I had been so looking forward to taking a warm bath and watching old movies in my bed, but this is what you do for family. You show up. I slide my feet back into the flip-flops I kicked off minutes earlier and head back out to the car.

The four of us have been sitting cross-legged on Lark’s twin bed, sharing pints of ice cream and repeating all the reasons Lark is wonderful whileThe Perks of Being a Wallflowerplays unwatched on her TV. We do have to be up for practice in the morning, so around ten p.m., Rae and Jenna ask Lark one more time if she’s sure she’ll be okay. They decide to call it a night, but I look back at Lark, who’s laid her head on a fuzzy pink throw pillow. She’s folded over herself like one of those pill bugs that rolls into a ball when someone touches it. She’s not crying anymore, just staring into space, giving in to a residual shudder every few minutes. I can’t leave her like this.

I help myself to a t-shirt from her dresser and then move to her closet, reaching for the shelf where she keeps her toiletry case.

“I’m staying over,” I say.

“It’s okay,” she says, sitting up. “I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. I’ll have my shit together by practice, don’t worry.”

I know she will. I’m entirely certain that come morning, she’ll be standing at a starting block like the rest of us, ready to bust her ass and hide away all the intense emotions she’s feeling right now. Because she’s an athlete, and she has a responsibility to show up and perform no matter what else is going on in her life. She’s not allowed to have bad days.

“I know you will. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep you company until then.”

On my way to the bathroom, I send a quick text to Beck pushing off our coffee date for a few days so I can be available for Lark over the weekend. Then I scroll through my other unread messages.

Leo’s mom texted again. In my concern over Lark, I’d forgotten about her earlier text and hadn’t read the message. I stop in the hallway and click open the chain.

Making sure you saw my text?

I scroll up.

Sorry Leo bailed on the group lesson today. He’s worried you’re mad at him about everything going haywire yesterday. I stopped by the club to talk earlier, but you’d already left. He’d like to come back tomorrow for one more try if you’re game?

I save her in my contacts as Berry Becker, even though I vaguely remember Leo telling me she has a different last name.

Yes, of course. Tuesday was crazy, but I was never mad at him. Please make sure he knows that. It was my fault for changing up our routine at the last minute. They’re putting a new filter system in at the club, so no lessons tomorrow or Monday. But please tell him to come Tuesday!

She puts a thumbs-up on the text, and I feel a surge of relief that our next lesson will be more manageable than the patience-tester this morning. Even with the kids doing everything right, it’s still a ton of work being out there with them on my own.

As I continue to the bathroom and put some of Lark’s toothpaste on my finger to clean my teeth, I consider how this summer has turned out so differently than expected. Not too long ago, I was planning to spend the summer waitressing at the Sizz. I was scrambling to figure out my community service, and still hating everything about swimming other than the places it could send me. But now I’m racking up both cash and service hours, and learning I can actually enjoy swimming if I’m teaching it, especially when my students are the kids no one ever expected to succeed.

I also didn’t expect Beck and the flirty texts we’ve been exchanging the past couple of days. I’m going to have to shut it down soon. Otherwise I’ll end up just like Lark, feeling things I’m not allowed to feel.

By the time I get back to her room, she’s fallen asleep. I straighten up the area, tossing the empty ice cream containers into the trash and closing the window shade. I turn off the light and climb onto the bed, reaching for a throw blanket to cover us both. Lark registers my movements and readjusts herself to make more space for me.