Page 14 of Summer Skate

“I have a question,” I say, craning my neck to look up at him.

“I’ve come to fear your questions, but go ahead.”

I sit up on the bed, cross my legs under me. “Since the kids are busy with camp and things seem kind of slow for you at work right now . . . ”

He is sighing already. He knows me too well. I push through.

“If I start taking the train into the city on the weekends . . . Maybe I could stay here for a few more weeks . . . or so . . . Just to get this book done. I mean, I’m over halfway done, I might as well, right?

I have the house until Labor Day, and it’s been working .

. . being out here, without all the distractions.

So I should just bring it on home, right? Don’t you think?”

He sighs again, more audibly this time. He can’t question my logic. It is airtight.

“I suppose.”

I am trying hard not to grin widely at the kindness this man has bestowed upon me.

“I’ll take the train into the city on the weekends,” I assure him.

He starts laughing. “You said that already.”

“No, but I really will. I’m not a horrible mother. Please don’t call the authorities.”

“I’ll try to resist.”

Despite the freedom that I’ve just arranged for myself, when I watch them drive away the next day, back to the city, I feel a pang of sadness so deep that I almost start to cry in the driveway.

I want to chase after the car. I want to end all of this.

But I tell myself that I just need time to adjust back to being alone.

The discomfort will pass. Alejandro calls me from the car, and we chat for a bit and I realize that they aren’t gone forever.

I go outside for a swim in the late afternoon light. I grab a towel and head to the pool, which suddenly feels very quiet.

I put one foot in the pool and then jump out and scream at the top of my lungs.

There is a long green snake in the water. It’s slithering around, its head bobbing up and down at the surface. It is desperate to get out.

Well, I can’t swim now. I’ll never swim again.

“Everything okay over there?” I hear Carter call from the other side of the bushes.

I stand there silently, recoiling in horror. Not him. Not him. Anyone but him . I don’t move. I am waiting for him to go away. A few minutes pass. I’m still frozen in place.

Then: “Hello?”

Damn .

“Yeah!” I yell back. “There’s just a snake in my pool.”

“Jesus. I thought somebody died.”

“No . . . it’s still . . . very much alive.”

I start to squeal, unable to control it any longer, and back away from the pool.

I know how I sound. But I can’t help it.

A frog would have been okay. Even a mouse.

But a snake I can’t handle. It occurs to me now that it’ll die in the pool and then I’ll have the same problem tomorrow, with nobody around.

I sigh. “Do you think . . . you could get it out for me?”

I hear his garage door opening. He arrives with a net attached to a long rod.

An hour later, the snake has been flung into the bushes, and we are sitting on lounge chairs with beers.

“Were those your kids? I thought I heard them in the pool over the weekend.”

“Yeah,” I say. “For once, I was the one with the noise.”

We sit quietly for what feels like a long time.

Finally, he says: “Did you hear Harps on Saturday night?”

“No. What did he do?”

“He had a wild night. Three girls in the hot tub.”

I gasp. “I can’t believe I missed that.” I smile. “I guess he says very few words, but they’re all the right ones.”

“He had a ten-point night.”

“A what?”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

I follow him to his house. Inside, the guys are on the couch, watching something on TV. He shows me into one of the bedrooms and opens the closet door. I stare at the mirror full of colored writing. He explains it to me. The system.

“I think this may be the craziest thing I’ve ever seen . . . Is that crayon?”

“Don’t worry. It’s washable.”

“Oh yeah. That was my concern.”

I take out my phone. Start typing in the Notes section.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m writing this down.”

He laughs. “You are?”

“If you’re going to do something this insane, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take it from you.”

He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “It’s yours.”

I finish writing and then stick out my hand to shake his. “Nice doing business with you.” He smiles.

We go back into the living room. They are watching 9⒈／⒉ Weeks . “I remember this movie,” I say.

“Sit down,” Carter says.

I sit and watch for a little while with them. On screen, Mickey Rourke puts an ice cube in his mouth and lets the freezing water drip all over Kim Basinger’s body. She is squirming with pleasure.

“Oh yeah. That’s realistic,” I say. The guys are mesmerized. I click on my phone to check the time. “It’s late. I should go.”

“Okay,” Carter says.

“Stay out of the freezer, boys,” I say as I stand. I turn to Carter. “Thank you for showing me the system.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

He follows me, stands there holding the knob of his front door. I stride down the driveway.

I turn back and smile, say: “Good luck out there.” I widen my eyes at him, and he widens his back at me.

Damn. He’s cute.