How to Breathe Underwater

by Vicky Skinner

  “You didn’t do it all for him,” Harris said, gentle as ever. “You did it for you, too.”

  I shook my head but didn’t say anything. He was wrong. I’d never done it for myself. The water was for me, but the race had always been for him.

  “It’s all tainted,” I told Harris. “I look at the pool, and it’s all ruined for me now. I think about him, and he’s like a stranger to me.” I hadn’t even realized it was true until I’d said it out loud.

  “It’s going to be okay, Kate. It is.”

  But he didn’t sound like he believed it. I didn’t believe it, either. We were quiet for a long time, until my tears had stopped and the only sounds were the traffic on the street below and the gentle lapping of the pool in the wind. I thought about telling him about the wedding, but this didn’t feel like the time. I was tired of talking about every disastrous thing in my life. It was all beginning to pile so high that it was exhausting.

  “I’m going to see you Tuesday, right? Hoochie’s?”

  “Yeah.” After everything, I’d almost forgotten about Hoochie’s.

  “I’ll see you then. Get some sleep.”

  I stared at the sky until my legs started to go numb, and then I went back downstairs to take a hot shower. I walked through the quiet, dark apartment, stopping in the living room to check on Lily.

  But Lily wasn’t on the couch like I’d expected her to be. A blanket was draped across the cushions where I’d left her before Michael’s party, but she wasn’t beneath it. I cracked open my mother’s door and peeked in. She was asleep under the light of her bedside lamp with a book open on the mattress beside her, but Lily wasn’t there, either.

  I peeked into my bedroom. Sure enough, Lily was curled up beneath my comforter with the light still on.

  I went to take a shower, holding my face under the water until my swollen eyes returned to normal and my skin felt a little less puffy. I changed into pajamas before crawling in beside Lily and turning off the light.

  When I settled in next to her, she startled awake. “Kate?”

  I turned onto my side to look at her. “Yeah?”

  “I’m scared,” she whispered, the words muttered low and almost inaudibly. Her hair, still in curls from the wedding, bracketed her face, her makeup smudged around her eyes.

  “Me, too.” I set my head beside hers on the pillow and wrapped my arm around her. “But everything’s going to be okay,” I said, mimicking Harris’s words. This time, I tried to believe it.

  Seven

  Lily was still asleep when I got up the next morning, but my mother was gone. I made coffee and toast and sat down in the tiny space between Lily’s feet and the end of my bed.

  “Lily?” I held out a mug to her with both my hands.

  She groaned and opened one eye. “Is it next year yet?”

  “Not quite. But I made you coffee.”

  “Good enough.” She sat up, the comforter bunching around her waist as she leaned over to take the coffee from me. She looked a mess.

  I felt something hard under my hip and reached beneath me to pull out whatever it was. Lily’s cell phone. And there was a text on the screen. Tom had sent it at three in the morning.

  Lily. Please call me.

  I handed the phone to her, and she read the display. And then she started crying. Between the two of us, I was surprised the Willamette River hadn’t flooded already. I took her coffee cup from her and put it on the nightstand. I moved in close and wrapped my arms around her. I just held her as she cried into her hands.

  When she’d finished, I pulled away.

  “I can’t believe Mom and Dad went at each other like that yesterday,” she said. She wiped her face and ran a hand through her messy hair. “All I could think was how could I be getting married when Mom and Dad are going through a divorce?”

  “But you love Tom.”

  She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, and I was reminded of us as kids, sitting in her room, talking about the boys we had crushes on. Lily went to college when I started high school, and it had been lonely without her around to complain to all the time about boys and Dad and swimming. To have her back now, when my whole world was falling apart, felt glorious, even though I knew it was selfish.

  “Of course, I love Tom. But it just feels like bad timing.”

  Bad timing, in my opinion, was realizing you don’t want to get married ten minutes before the ceremony starts. “You don’t want to get married?”

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard. “I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore. What if we’re not as compatible as I thought? What if we were just staying together because it was easy? I mean, I thought Mom and Dad would be together until they died. I thought they had this perfect marriage. Maybe no couple lasts forever.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Tom about all this.”

  “I tried. A week ago.”

  “You did?” She hadn’t mentioned it to me, and neither one of them had acted as if anything was going wrong.

  “Yeah. I thought it might be insensitive to plan the wedding right under Mom’s nose after all that stuff with Dad, but Tom didn’t think so. He thought the planning might help take her mind off things. Now, I know that wasn’t true. It just gave them something else to argue about. I certainly didn’t think he was going to start a fight at the wedding, like he wasn’t the one plowing a woman in his office.”

  “Okay. Ew.”

  “Sorry. I’m upset.”

  “So, what now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t want to call him?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. Can we watch SpongeBob instead?”

  “Sure. Hey, you know what would be even better than SpongeBob?” I hopped off the bed and went for the closet. A lot of my stuff was still in boxes, and I had to dig through more than one before I found what I was looking for: a stack of DVDs in blank cases.

  “What are those?” Lily asked when I sat down in front of the DVD player and put one of them in. It was times like these that I was glad I’d begged my mother for a TV for my room last year. Then, it was so I could watch the World Swimming Championships in bed, but now, I mostly just watched talk shows while I got ready for school.

  “Last season’s dance competitions. I burned them off Dad’s DVR before we moved out.”

  Lily clapped excitedly. “No way. Oh, that would totally un-bum me out.”

  I hit PLAY and curled up on the bed next to her, pressing my head back into the pillows and watching the couple on the screen, fully decked out in ball gown and black suit, twirling expertly around the dance floor. Watching ballroom dancing competitions was akin to therapy.

  I turned to say something about a fumbled step on-screen, but I noticed that Lily’s eyes had gone shiny with tears. I couldn’t tell if it was because of nostalgia or because her mind was on Tom again, but I knew I needed to snap her out of it.

  I muted the TV, letting the couple dance in silence. “I quit swim.”

  She gasped loudly, and her eyes went wide. “What? You quit swim?”

  I nodded.

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why? I thought you loved swimming.”

  I pressed my head against the bed frame and looked over at her. “I don’t know. I guess the same reason you left your wedding: I freaked out. I wasn’t sure if it was what I wanted or what everyone else wanted.”

  “Have you told Mom?”

  “No. She’s been so distracted that I didn’t know how to do it. I don’t even know how she’s going to react, and now with the wedding and everything…”

  “You think she’s going to be mad?”

  “I don’t know. Swimming is what I’ve always done, and she was so confident that I’d always want to.” I paused. “I just want to start over, you know? I want to pretend like the other Kate, the one everyone knew as a swimmer and a record holder, and the best freaking freestyle swimmer in Oregon, doesn’t even exist. And I thought ma
ybe I’d get that chance when I met Michael, but…”

  Her mouth fell open. “Wait. Are you serious? I was right about something for once? You do have a crush on him?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know if it’s a crush, exactly. But he’s so cute, and he was being so nice to me, and I thought we were hitting it off, and then he showed up with his girlfriend.”

  She grimaced. “Ouch.”

  I glanced for a second at the TV so I wouldn’t have to see the pity written all over her face. The couple on-screen was dancing a samba in bright-red costumes. “Yeah, he has a girlfriend. And she’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

  “Things really aren’t working out for you, are they?”

  I blinked at her. “Says the girl whose ex-fiancé was texting her at three in the morning.”

  “Says the girl who quit swimming and hasn’t told anyone.”

  “Says the girl who slept in her little sister’s bed last night.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled at me nonetheless. “Okay, fine, you win.” She stretched out on the bed and put her head in my lap with a pillow between us. She still had stains on her cheeks from the tears. “Man, we’re really messed up.”

  *   *   *

  Michael was in the living room chatting with Lily when I made it out there on Monday morning.

  “We’re going to be late,” he said, his backpack slung over one arm. He said it so gently, as if I could dally for another hour, and he still wouldn’t have the heart to pin the blame on me. Lily was stretched out on the couch, and surprisingly, she almost looked happy. Michael had a way of putting everyone in a good mood.

  Everyone but my mother, it would appear. She was rushing back and forth in an arc around the dining room table, scooping up papers and shoving things into her purse.

  “Kate!” she bellowed.

  “I’m right here.” I went into the dining room and tried to stay out of her way as she spun around the room like a Tasmanian devil.

  “Do you have practice today? You have practice today, right? What time does it start? Do you need me to take you to the pool?”

  I put a hand on her shoulder, and she sighed and finally stopped moving for a second. “Mom.”

  Her eyes were pits of panic. I knew I should tell her about the team because I’d been presented with an opening, but I couldn’t do that to her. Not when she looked like this. Like Lily said—bad timing.

  “Practice is tomorrow,” I told her. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Right. Practice tomorrow. Okay. Great. You should go. Michael’s been waiting for you for a little while now. Wouldn’t want you to miss the bus.”

  Over my mother’s shoulder, I saw Michael watching us. He wouldn’t have time to smoke his cigarette. “Okay, we’re going.”

  I avoided looking at Michael and Lily as I made my way out the front door. I was not about to have them send me their knowing looks. I knew I was a filthy liar. I didn’t need them to reinforce it.

  Michael and I rushed silently down the stairs, and I was thankful that we were in a hurry. No small talk. About his girlfriend or my mom. By the time we made it out to the curb, however, the bus was pulling away.

  “Hey!” Michael shouted, rushing after it, and I took off after him. Michael caught up to it, seeing as how it wasn’t moving very fast in the Portland traffic, and banged on the accordion door.

  “Bus doesn’t wait for anyone,” the driver said when he opened the door, and Michael rolled his eyes as we sat down.

  “Sorry,” I told him as we started moving again.

  “It’s okay.”

  We’d taken a seat in the back, and I did what I thought was a pretty good job of pretending it wasn’t painful to sit so close to him. He didn’t even smell like cigarettes. For once, I wanted him to smell like cigarettes so I could be less attracted to him.

  “Hey, Kate?” He used his thumbnail to scrape at the back of the seat in front of us. Brown vinyl.

  I continued to look out the window as the city passed by. “Yeah?”

  “Why’d you tell your mom that you have practice tomorrow when you didn’t join the team?”

  I pressed my forehead to the window. “Because I’m the worst daughter in the history of all reproduction.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  He was watching me with those eyes again when I finally gathered the courage to look at him. “I don’t know how she’s going to react. I haven’t told anyone else. You and Lily are pretty much the only ones who know.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. It was too early in the day for this conversation. “Could we maybe talk about something else?”

  “Okay. What do you want to talk about instead?”

  I groaned. “Oh my God. I don’t know. What do normal sixteen-year-olds talk about?”

  He shrugged. “The usual. Sex, drugs, alcohol. Self-annihilation.”

  It hit me then—what it was about Michael that made my stomach clench in that way it did even though I’d only know him for a week: Michael didn’t expect anything from me. My father, my mother, even Lily, they all expected something from me, whether I was ready to give it or not.

  But Michael just looked at me like he was waiting. He was waiting to see what I would do next, what I would say next, who I would be in the next ten minutes.

  I looked away from him. Sitting next to each other on this tiny seat was too close. I felt like I was sitting on his lap. I pulled my backpack around in between us, a welcome barrier, and then remembered what I had inside it. I’d bought a bag of peppermints while grocery shopping on Friday with the intention of giving them to him today, but now I wondered if the gesture was too intimate. I bit my lip and looked at Michael, but he was doing something on his phone.

  Not too intimate, I decided, reaching into my backpack. They were just peppermints, right?

  “I got you something,” I told him, pulling out the bag and shoving it at him.

  Michael picked the peppermints up from his lap like I’d just handed him a bag of gold nuggets. “Hey, thank you. This is really nice.”

  I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I thought it might help if you had something to distract you. You know, all that oral-fixation stuff.”

  His smile faded just a little, and I bit the inside of my cheek. Thankfully, the bus pulled up to the school then, and we could awkwardly ignore each other as we separated.

  *   *   *

  I waited for Michael that afternoon, but when the bus pulled up behind the school, he hadn’t shown up yet. I lingered, tying my shoes and fiddling with the straps on my backpack until everyone was on the bus and the driver yelled at me to get on.

  And the next morning, there was no Michael in my living room, or waiting outside my front door, or standing on the curb, or chasing after the bus.

  Eight

  “All I’m saying is, they should have gotten a higher score.” Lily stuck a forkful of rice in her mouth and gestured at the TV.

  Our mother, accustomed to our obsession with ballroom gowns and boys doing the cha-cha, drank her tea before replying. “They definitely had more chemistry than the other couple. And their footwork was truly impressive.”

  I was watching the door. I might have only known Michael for a week, but I thought I knew him well enough to know that he didn’t just abandon people without a word unless something was wrong. But maybe I’d freaked him out with the peppermints. Maybe I’d given myself away. Maybe he knew I liked him, and he was avoiding me so as not to give me any ideas.

  “Kate?” Lily was looking at me, concerned.

  My whole body buzzed. I wanted to stay here with Lily. I didn’t want her to get lonely and fall into a pit of despair if she started to dwell on Tom and the wedding, but I couldn’t sit still when I knew something might be wrong.

  “I’m just going to get some air,” I told them.

  My mother’s eyebrows crinkled. “Okay. Be careful.”

  But standing in the hallway, I had no clue what to do
next. Michael had been in my living room, but I had never so much as stepped on his doormat. It said welcome in a curly font.

  I lifted my hand to knock, but just as I did, the door swung open, and I found myself face-to-face with Patrice. Or rather, I found myself face-to-hair.

  “Kate?” She looked at me like I had just appeared before her wearing a tutu and a horse mask.

  I took a step back, and she came into the hall and closed the door behind her. “I was just coming to check on Michael. Since he, um, wasn’t at school. I guess I was just a little worried. Not that I have anything to be worried about, but I just feel like it’s not like him, you know, based on previous experience.” God, I was babbling.

  She crossed her arms and leaned against Michael’s doorjamb. “I guess he didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?

  Her face, usually covered in a wide smile, was downcast. “His mother had an episode. Michael got called out of school yesterday to go to the hospital with her. She had to get an oxygen tank, and he’s been monitoring her all day. She isn’t great, but as far as I can tell, she’s doing much better.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Obviously, I knew Michael’s mother was sick. I’d known that since my first night in Portland. But I didn’t know that she was so sick that she had to be on oxygen or that she apparently had to go to the hospital on a regular basis.

  “I’m sure he’d love the company if you want to go in.” Patrice pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

  “Oh. No. That’s okay. I don’t want to bother them. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

  She smiled then, that blinding smile that I knew well. “You’re a good friend, Kate. He told me about the peppermints.”

  I waved it away. “Not a big deal.”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s been trying to quit for a few months and hasn’t had any luck. But every little bit helps, and having one more person pestering him about it is always great. Anyway, I should get home.”