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“No, I’m not a weakling,” I said. “I’m a gymnast, so I’m strong.”
“I know you are,” he answered. “I’ve seen you on the sidelines doing your thing during the games. I’ve seen you practicing, too.”
“Me? Really?”
“You. Really.” He stood up and stretched. “I think we could swim now. I’m not going to do anything Olympic.”
I stood as well. It had been only eating, not a big deal. Just eating and talking some, but there was nothing to worry or feel guilty about. And now…
“We’re only swimming,” Bowie told me, as if he could read my thoughts. He looked at the thicket of plants between us and the water. “How do we get down there?”
“There’s a path.” I studied him and had some doubts. “You’re going to have to duck and go sideways, though.”
We went to the lake and swam. Bowie walked out about a hundred feet and could still stand and I showed him how to do cartwheels. It was a lot easier to fall down in the water. Then we floated on the old inner tubes I kept tied to a tree near the shore. We talked some, like we’d done while we were eating, but mostly we were just there in the water, together but not really. It was fine and nothing to feel guilty about.
Bugs started to swarm and we got out and walked back up to the cottage (me facing forward and him doing a modified grapevine in order to fit). He took the three steps through my house and I walked out onto the gravel driveway with him. “Thanks for letting me swim in your lake,” he said. “You were right and it was a good way to stretch.”
“Thanks for bringing dinner. It was really delicious.” I hesitated. “If you ever wanted to swim again, you could park here and use our path. We wouldn’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t mind that either,” he said. “Bye, Lissa.”
I waved my hand and went back inside but then I stood at the front window and watched his truck back up and drive away. It hadn’t been any big deal to have him over.
I wasn’t sure why it felt like it was.
Chapter 2
The performance was going perfectly. I was practically flying, in fact, and I could hear the crowd gasping and applauding as I hit every tumbling move. The other Wonderwomen faded into the distance when I started to dance. They were backing me up, because I was the star. I was front and center just like Aubin had been and I bet my mom had been, too. Was I taller? I certainly looked amazing in the orange halter top, and I was moving like I never had before.
When we finished the routine, the applause felt like it would never end. No one in the whole stadium even cared that the referees were trying to start the second half of football. “Go out there and take a bow!” Coach Sam urged me, and the crowd screamed for an encore.
“No, I can’t, the Woodsmen have to play, too,” I protested, but then I threw a double layout for fun. “Thank you! Thank you!”
“Sissy? Are you talking to yourself again?”
My head jerked to the side and I saw my dad standing in the kitchen doorway. “No,” I said. “The noise was coming from my phone.”
He nodded and then yawned. “What time is it?”
I didn’t actually have my phone and the old clock on the stove was broken, but I had a general idea. “I think you need to hurry if you want to be at work on time.”
That didn’t make him move him any faster. He opened the refrigerator, stared for a while at the contents, and then took out a can of beer. “What are you doing home?” he asked me.
“Practice got cancelled. The outdoor field is too wet to use,” I answered. “The thunderstorm knocked out power to the whole facility and the generators are offline because of the renovations they’ve been doing to the stadium. I’m not sure what they’re going to do about Fan Day.” I talked to him more about the big Woodsmen event tomorrow with the players and how it was supposed to be stormy again, but he wasn’t listening too much. He finished the first can and opened another. Gradually, I stopped talking and just watched him, getting worried.
“Dad? I can drive you to work,” I suggested. “Do you want me to?”
He put down the beer and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “I’ll drive myself.”
He took a third can with him as he walked out of the kitchen and I got my keys and followed him into the living room. “I need to go by the country club anyway,” I mentioned. “I’d be happy to take you.”
“What are you doing out way the hell out there in the middle of nowhere?” he asked, but he stumbled a little as he reached for his black shoes. I helped straighten his tie when he stood up. “I guess you could drive me if you’re going that way. I’m a little tired.”
I nodded, although I knew that he’d been sleeping at least since I’d come home and probably for the rest of the day before that. He’d been passed out on the couch that morning when I’d left to go to the bakery but I’d gotten him to go to bed. He’d still been in his room when I’d returned and dripped rainwater all over the floor from the storm that had cancelled the final Wonderwomen practice before our first performance at Fan Day.
I got him out to the car now and we made our way to the country club. It was a long drive and he was right, there was nothing else around it that I might have been doing. He’d been hired to work in the guard shack there because of his other job at Woodsmen Stadium, which I’d helped him to find last winter and he’d held on to, somehow. As we went along the slippery roads leading farther out into the country, I rolled down the window and took the most recent beer from him.
“No more of that, not now,” I said, and I poured the liquid out of the window onto the asphalt.
