Page 1 of Don’t Be A Stranger

One

Summer

I have mastered the art of avoidance.

It comes so naturally to me now, that I don’t even remember what actually facing my problems looks like.

I’m self-aware just enough to understand this, but not enough to want to change it. Which is why I’m hiding out in the natatorium and using the excuse of “training” as the reason I’m mindlessly floating around in the pool.

Classes for everyone on the Kingswell campus have officially been dismissed. College students piled into cars or cabs to get to the airport to go anywhere but here for the summer.

I should be doing the same.

My bags should be packed and River should be waiting for me in that usual way he does. Leaning against his car, the door already opened because god forbid any woman open it herself.

It’s a cute gesture up until he spends the next hour pouting just because he was too slow so I opened my own door.

But none of this is going to happen because I’ve decided not to go home for the summer. Instead, I’m choosing to stay on campus to get some extra training. It sounds like a better use of my time rather than constantly worrying about Dad and how his chemo is going.

All I can do is hope that it’s working the way it should and pray that I don’t get that call that he’s gone.

I really should be a better daughter. But what am I if I’m not useful? I can’t just sit there beside his bed and do nothing.

Papi says that just me being there helps but I don’t see it that way. Helping means taking action and unfortunately, I can’t kick cancer’s ass. And besides, my best friend Lily is currently on her way to spend most of the summer on a cruise her grandparents dragged her on.

Her lack of presence back in Morrisville, Vermont only gives me more of a reason to not go home.

Other than me, the pool is empty. It seems like the whole building is at this point, as if everyone couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Good.

I don’t need another person asking me what my plans for the summer are, just for me to tell them I’ll be doing preseason training. Then I’m usually met with a concerned look because who the hell would choose college swimming over a summer of freedom?

Me, apparently.

I’ve been floating on my back, staring up at the metal pillars for a good hour now. With my ears engulfed in the water, the sound of the pool filter is muffled. Usually, I’d be wearing my black Kingswell’s Griffins swimsuit with our gold logo in the center of my chest. But today I’m only pretending to be productive, so I’m wearing my purple one-piece instead.

The season has been over for a couple of months now, but it still feels like I practically live in this goddamn pool. And yet, I somehow don’t find myself ever getting tired of it.

I mean, I get tired of a lot of other things. Like the meal prepping. Calorie counting. The dryland training. Or the sound of Coach Miller’s whistle.

But I don’t mind being strict with myself.

Not when I have a scholarship to keep.

The work pays off but sometimes I do just miss swimming in a pool and it not mean anything other than feeling the calmness that takes over my body whenever I’m in the water.

All that other stuff is worth it as long as I get to the Olympics someday.

Yep. Me. Summer Ingram-Ruiz.

The Indian girl adopted by two men who raised her in Vermont of all places. Papi and Dad always told me to aim for a life beyond the universe if I have to.

I reminded my parents about their words of wisdom when they asked why I wasn’t coming home for summer break. “I can always improve my time,” I told them over the phone. “There’s always more I can try to achieve.”

Like I very much want to achieve avoiding the guilt that’s eating away at me.

“Hey, stranger!”