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We talk while we eat and then Justin leaves to change into his swim trunks. All I have to do is take my outer layer of clothes off because I went ahead and put on my bathing suit before I left the house. Justin returns, holding two towels, and he grabs his keys. He holds out his hand. I take it and then he’s leading me out of his apartment building.
After a short walk, we end up at a pool. Justin sets the towels and his keys on one seat while I pile my clothes on another seat, slipping off my shoes as well. Justin reclaims my hand and we walk down the steps into the cool water together. My eyes slide over to ogle Justin before his body disappears underneath the water.
“You look fantastic in that bathing suit, sweetheart,” Justin says, bringing my gaze up to his face where his eyes seem to be glued to my chest as we wade in the water.
“You look pretty good yourself.”
He cracks a smile and pulls me further into the water. I want to groan when I feel that mental switch flip. The one where my mood completely flops in a matter of seconds and all I want to do is curl into a ball and cry. Where life chooses this moment to overwhelm me. When my mental health decides to take a dive and my thoughts say, “This is too much for today. Don’t deal with it. Give in and try again tomorrow.”
“Hey,” Justin whispers, wiping rogue tears from my cheeks. “What’s the matter? You’re supposed to be relaxing with me.”
How am I supposed to explain this to him? All of my energy died the moment I was hit with this despair. I try not to tell boyfriends about my mental health issues. Not because I want to keep it from them, but because I have explained it to a few of them and they either thought I was a nut or just didn’t understand and wouldn’t try. There wasn’t even any empathy. There were those who thought I should just decide to be happy or go outside and enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. Like that’s all it takes to cure an anxiety disorder and depression.
But Justin should understand. He’s a paramedic. That has to aid in his understanding somehow, right?
Justin wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. “Talk to me, Idaline.”
“I’m sorry.” Ugh. The urge to ugly cry and babble is strong. I take a deep breath and hope that by taking this slow, it’ll be easier. I point to my head. “I have issues.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
I bite the inside of my lip to keep from sighing. Right. He isn’t FC. He doesn’t automatically know what I’m talking about. I swallow hard and try again. “I deal with an anxiety disorder and depression.” I wipe a tear. “So, this happens sometimes.” Now, to wait for his response.
Justin hugs me tighter, his lips brushing my ear. “What do you need from me to make it better?” he asks. “Should we go back inside?”
Relief floods my system. That’s exactly what I want, but then, I’ll just feel worse for ruining his idea. “Give me ten minutes to see if I can deal out here.”
Justin nods and we begin to swim a few laps before floating. I’m thankful no one is out here. I don’t know if I could deal with any additional noise or people. Justin holds my hand as we float. Hopefully, he’ll keep an eye out and make sure we don’t run into any walls. I close my eyes and focus on the way my breathing sounds with my ears under the water. That’s the noise I focus on and allow it to take over my mind.
The way I feel doesn’t improve much, but I don’t feel like I might burst into tears at any second either. Justin stands and pulls me upright with him. He seems to analyze my every feature.
“C’mere,” he nearly mumbles, reaching out for both of my hands. Justin tugs until our bodies are close. He interlocks our fingers and we begin to…dance?
“Are we dancing?” I ask, a bit of awe in my voice.
“You mean you’ve never danced in a pool before?” he asks as if I’m the crazy one.
“No.”
“Glad to be your first then.”
We mostly sway while Justin stares at me so intently, I nearly forget we’re in a pool. He eventually lifts my arms around his neck and holds me even closer. I rest my head on his shoulder to further relax. Life still feels sucky, but it’s a tolerable sucky.
“Doing okay?” he whispers after a while.
“Yeah. Are you ready to go in now? I’m really tired.”
“If you’re ready, I’m ready.”
One thing that I’ve already noticed about being with Justin is that it’s easy. It’s really easy to be with him. There’s no friction. No awkwardness. Nothing hard. It’s simple and easy. That’s good, right? That’s something a girl should want in her relationships. Easy instead of tension, complex emotions, heady sensations.
As Justin does whatever he can to soothe me, to help my emotional state, I decide that easy is definitely a good thing.
My worry triples the moment I hear my baby’s heartbeat. Lila is now four months along and we’re here to learn the sex of my baby. For the past few weeks, I worried that maybe I should think of him or her as our baby instead, but Lila never does. She even refers to it as my baby. She never says, “I can’t wait to meet our baby.” Or, “I’m sure my baby will be so cute.” It’s always “Your baby” this and that, usually her complaining about something.
She’s told me I get to pick the name, which I find odd. What first-time expectant mother doesn’t want to help name her baby? Apparently, Lila doesn’t.
I close my eyes, listening to that soft heartbeat as if I’ve never heard anything else like it before. I guess I haven’t, not really. And then, we’re told we’re having a boy. A sweet baby boy. A baby who doesn’t deserve a mother like Lila. This past week has been peaceful, but that just means the shit will hit the fan soon. I leave work a little early to write down whatever happened the day before and then mail that to my mother for safekeeping. There’s nowhere here for me to keep anything private, where Lila wouldn’t eventually find it, so that was the safest way to go.
