Page 28 of Into the Deep Blue
When I get home, the house is dark, but I hear the shower running upstairs. I quickly dig the picture from my bag and scan the kitchen for a place to stand it upright. I put it front and center on the counter beside Dad’s mug.
Then I sit on the couch in the darkness like a spy interrogator and wait. Dad doesn’t notice me when he comes down the stairs. He goes into the kitchen, opens the fridge, closes it and moves to the sink.
Silence.
The frame lightly scrapes against the counter.
He moves to the archway between the two rooms, the frame held low in his hand.
“When did you get in?”
My folded arms on the couch routine isn’t fazing him, so I bolt up.
“That’s what you’re going to ask me right now?”
He heads back into the kitchen.
“Dad! What is that?”
I ask, following after him.
“Picture of your mom and me,”
he says, putting it back on the counter.
“Where’d you find it?”
“On the wall of the place you said was a school project!”
“It was part of her school project.”
He turns on the faucet and fills the coffeepot with water.
“They really put this on the wall, huh?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He hits the button on the coffee maker and stares at me with squinty eyes like he’s not sure he wants to tell me anything.
“Dad!”
“, I love you, but it’s not all about you. Some memories are mine, and that night was one of them. I’m sure you have moments you want to keep just for you.”
His gaze shifts to the necklace Nick gave me, and I resist the urge to touch it.
“But I’m glad you found it. I think your mom would have wanted you to.”
“So you wanted me to go there?”
“No.”
He sighs, taking his travel mug out of the dishwasher.
“But I’m proud you decided for yourself. Did not expect this.”
He lights up, taking in the picture.
“What’d you think of the place?”
I lean against the wall at a loss for how to put our night there into words.
“It was pretty bad. But also pretty great.”
He gives me a knowing smile.
“Sounds just like I remember it.”
***
It’s only been a week since the trip, but it feels like a lifetime. Nick hasn’t texted me since the lawyer visit. Sometimes I feel like I’m too involved in his business. His loss came with this whole other legal element, and as much as I want to be there for him, I don’t want to influence him. What if my advice is horrible? I mean, look at me. I’m the last person I would take advice from right now. I thought I’d give him space, a few days to figure things out, hopefully with Alex, but I didn’t think it would take this long.
I run down the stairs to find Dad basting a tofurkey with some kind of glaze.
“Smells amazing,”
I say, slinging my gym bag over my shoulder.
“You know, I’ve been doing this for two hours now, and I can honestly say, it’s not worth it.”
We haven’t had a formal dinner since Mom died. It never seemed worth the hassle for just the two of us. But he has the night off for the first time in ages, and he’s pulling out all the stops. It’s a little painful watching him struggle, but I melt knowing he’s trying.
“You went hard on the potatoes, huh?”
The colander beside him is filled to the brim.
“No such thing. You want mashed or roasted?”
“Half and half?”
I suggest, slipping into my shoes.
He gives me an exasperated stare.
I raise my arms in defense.
“Or not? I’m good for whatever.”
“Half and half actually sounds pretty good,” he says.
There isn’t a stitch of free space left on the counter. It’s a disaster, scattered with most of the fridge contents. He scans through them, picking up a stick of butter.
“You working today?”
“Last-minute shift.”
He eyes me over his glasses.
“But, you’ll be home to eat this, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it! Later!”
I fly out the door and text Nick on my way to my car.
How’d it go with Alex?
When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to reply, I leave.
***
Jaden switched classes to Sunday this week because the gym was booked for a party on Friday. When I pull into the lot, I spot May’s car and park as far away from it as possible. My stomach wrenches at the thought of going inside. I don’t want to deal with the judgy stares from the parents, or worse, face May because I’ve been avoiding her. I don’t even know why I’m here. I’ve all but officially quit kinder gym. When Jaden asked if I was coming back after the strep fiasco, I should have said no, but I was too chicken, so here I am.
May spots me as soon as I step inside. She’s surrounded by kids and can only wave from across the gym. I wave back, and it feels so normal, it makes me question if this drama between us ever existed, or if it was all in my head.
I’m a spare today, so I don’t have a group to teach. My job is to put away pylons and other equipment, making me feel especially useless.
Sarah runs up to me and wraps her small arms around my waist.
“! Can we do walkovers now?”
She’s giving me those puppy dog eyes again, jumping up and down.
I hold up the pylons.
“Can’t, kind of busy.”
“You don’t look busy.”
I scan the gym. Her mom is surfing on her phone in the viewing area. I promised her we would do this weeks ago. How can I say no.
“Sure! Why not? Let’s do it.”
I toss the pylons.
“Show me what you got!”
Sarah tries a walkover and flops hard on her back against the mat.
“I can’t do it.”
“Try again.”
This time I spot her, helping her spring up from a bridge.
“You did it!”
I excitedly say, giving her a high five.
“I fall without you, though. How do you balance and get up?”
She means the walkover, but it hits deep.
“You’re asking the wrong girl.”
“But you can do it,”
Sarah says.
“And so can you! It’s practice. That’s it. Not a magic trick. And wanting it as badly as I know you do is the most important part.”
Sarah tries again. She struggles, but pulls herself up. It makes me so happy, I let out a loud cheer, and then see her mom scowling at me from the viewing area.
“I did it!”
she shouts, running around the gym.
It’s the best feeling—making a tiny difference for someone. Sarah’s mom doesn’t get to steal that from me. This gym was such a huge part of my life, but I think I’m ready to leave it behind. It’s hard to grow in a place that won’t grow with you.
I head toward Jaden, who’s waving a bubble gun over an excited group of toddlers.
“Hey.”
“Hey, .”
He barely notices me.
“So, I quit,”
I announce.
Now he looks at me. He knits his brows together, still squeezing the trigger of the bubble gun.
“I’m quitting,”
I repeat, deflating a little because he doesn’t fight me. Maybe he even hoped this would happen.
“And for the record, it sucks that you didn’t stand up for me. Going to counseling is not a bad thing.”
His mouth falls open.
“What? Who told you that?”
“May said that’s why they pulled my lessons.”
Jaden’s face softens. He lowers the bubble gun.
“It was never the counseling Fi, it was the company.”
It doesn’t register. “What?”
“Your friend, Nick? Had a bit of a history, apparently. I thought you knew. I asked May for the best way to break it to you, and she said to let her handle it.”
Of course, he’d confide in May. He’s still in love with her.
“So, she lied to me?”
“I didn’t know.”
“But that’s . . . ”
I shake my head, still not understanding.
“So stupid. Any history he had was before Nick.”
“The parents don’t see the difference.”
Nick is the reason my students dropped like flies. Nick is the reason I’m broke. All at once, I feel sorry for him and angry. All this time, I thought they were judging me for therapy, and this is so much worse. They’re judging me for my judgment.
“I’m sorry.”
Jaden touches my shoulder and lowers his face before mine because I’m staring at the mat in a daze. “?”
It breaks my trance. “Yeah?”
I step back, and see the regret in his eyes.
“Thanks for telling me. Good luck with everything, Jaden.”
He tries to follow me, but the kids surround him jumping for more bubbles. I can’t get out of the gym fast enough. The sliding doors open, and I stumble through, feeling more like they spit me out than let me leave with a shred of self-respect.
I take one last look at the gym. I imagine packing it full of cats and leaving them there. At least I can start over at school in New York and leave my history here.
My phone rings. It’s Nick’s home number. Weird because he never calls me, especially not from a landline. I answer as I cross the pavement.
“You are not going to believe what just happened.”
“?”
The voice on the other end has the same buttery smoothness but older.
“Mr. Bennet, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Nick.”
A pause.
“So he’s not with you?”
My heart stops. All of me stops. Something’s wrong.
“No . . . ”
“Have you spoken to him recently?”
His voice is serious and why is he talking so slowly. My mind races through the worst possible scenarios.
“What’s going on?”
“There was an . . . incident.”
That’s when May bursts through the sliding doors, hands on her hips.
“Did you just quit?”
she yells.
I put my hand over the phone and face her. “Yeah.”
I raise a finger to signal for her to hang on and turn back to my phone.
“What kind of incident?”
There’s a deep sigh from the line.
“He stole my truck.”
Did he just say stole? Still, I’m relieved. Stole, I can work with.
“What happened?”
“He took off with it about an hour ago. I don’t want to get the police involved.”
“Yeah, no, you shouldn’t do that.”
“I thought he would be with you.”
I cover the phone again and face May.
“Have you heard from Nick?”
May shakes her head.
“Can you give me an hour? I’ll call you either way,”
I say to Mr. Bennet.
“An hour. Okay.”
“I’m sure it’s just a misundersta—”
He hangs up before I finish the sentence.
A strip of pavement separates me from May. It may as well be an ocean.
She finishes typing something on her phone and glances up at me.
“Fi? Are we okay?”
A frustrated laugh bubbles inside me because what the hell is okay anymore.
“Why did you tell me it was the therapy?”
Her hands fall to her side.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By making me feel like I’m crazy?”
“I knew how much Nick meant to you!”
“But then you asked for his number!”
I say, exasperated.
May steps forward and stops at the curb.
“Because you said he was like an AA sponsor, and I didn’t want to damage that support system for you. I didn’t think there was anything more between you.”
I bury my face in my hands. She bites at her lip and seems so uncertain, and I’m hit with a pang of reconciliation.
“So? Are we okay?”
she asks again.
As angry as I was—am. I also kind of miss her. We’re like one of those best friend necklaces. Broken, but the pieces still fit. We’ll figure this out.
So I just nod.
“We will be.”
She holds up her phone.
“I texted him. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
“Thanks.”
“And Fi? I wish you would have told me. I would have never . . . ”
My mind reels. It’s such a loaded comment. How do I even begin to unpack that?
I dismiss her with a wave.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Text me later,”
she calls out after me.
I sink into the driver’s seat and text Nick.
Hey
Where are you?
Your dad is freaking out
He was so upset after the lawyer’s visit last weekend. I guess I underestimated how much. My mind races through all the worst-case scenarios, then drifts to May’.
“I would have never”
comment. I’m pretty sure nothing ever happened between them, but would have never what? What if he texts her first? I get angry all over again. Ten minutes ago, I was feeling oh so confident. Now I’m a neurotic mess sitting in my car thinking about May-isms an.
“I would have never”
when Nick’s dad is hovering his finger over 9-1-1, itching to have him arrested.
Where is he? I scramble for my phone and click on my friend finder app. I never use it, but we added each other months ago. His name pops up on my screen, and I press on it, waiting for a blip to appear on the map. I zoom in on the location. Silver State Falls Park. It should have been an easy guess. The waterfall he used to visit with Alex and his mom. But why wouldn’t he call me when we made a promise?
That night in his room he locked his finger with mine. Promise me right now, that you won’t pull any Rogers or jump off any railings without texting me first.
I made light of it, but for him, it was real. It was real, and it meant something, so I made the promise. I made the promise. But . . . he never made one back.