Breath Like Water

by Anna Jarzab

  She sighs, then smiles. “Oh, lots of things.” I frown at her, not understanding at all. She gives my knee a comforting pat and turns toward the window. “Don’t worry, Soos. I’m good.”

  * * *

  “How do you feel about this Battle of the Sexes meet?” I whisper into the phone that night. My eyes are closed, the better to imagine Harry’s lying right here next to me instead of in his own bed across town, but I’m not the least bit sleepy.

  Harry hesitates before answering. “I don’t know,” he says. “Not good?”

  “That didn’t sound convincing,” I say a bit too loudly.

  “Shh,” he says. “You want to wake up your parents?”

  “You think this is okay? Pitting boys against girls like it’s some kind of fair fight?”

  “I think Dave’s trying to shake us all up,” Harry says, calmly, like he’s trying to keep me from getting upset. I hate when guys talk to girls like that. “You and I used to practice together all the time. Are you saying that didn’t make us both better?”

  “That’s practice, this is competition,” I remind him. “There’s a reason men and women don’t race together. The only point of making us swim against each other when the clock is running is to show Beth that her girls can’t possibly stand up to Dave’s boys. Or to make us girls feel bad. Or, hey, two birds, one stone.”

  “I don’t think that’s what this is supposed to be,” Harry says. “You could outswim half the boys on that team.”

  “It’s the other half I’m worried about! You included.”

  “We’re a team, Susie.”

  “Sometimes GAC is a team. But most of the time, we’re all looking out for number one.”

  “I’m not talking about GAC,” Harry says. “I’m talking about you and me. When you win, I win, and—hopefully—vice versa.”

  “Of course. When you win, I win.” But I can’t shake the feeling that this is more than just an exercise, and I don’t know why Harry can’t see that.

  “So, you know, whatever happens in this dumb meet, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me,” I insist. “I don’t understand why you’re giving Dave the benefit of the doubt. He’s the one who made us break up, remember?”

  “You think Dave is doing this to spite you?”

  “No, but I do think he’s doing it to spite Beth. He doesn’t like her because she’s different from him and she has her own opinions and he’s afraid she’s a better coach.”

  He scoffs. “She’s not a better coach.”

  “How would you know? She’s never coached you. They’ve both coached me and I’d choose Beth over Dave any day of the week.”

  “I’m sure you would.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Stop yelling. You’re going to wake your whole house and then they’ll know we’re still together.” After a beat of silence, he asks nervously: “We are still together, right?”

  The giant bubble of anger that’s been expanding in my chest suddenly deflates. I laugh softly.

  “Yeah,” I say, dropping my voice to just above a whisper. “But I wish you wouldn’t defend Dave. I know you think he’s on your side, but there’s only one side with him. His. I don’t want you to be his catch of the day.”

  “Uh...what?”

  “It’s what Jessa calls it when Dave latches on to a specific swimmer for a while, giving them all this attention and making them think he sees something special in them,” I explain. “In the end, he always throws them back.”

  “Yeah. God forbid anyone ever sees anything special in me.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “He’s not doing that,” Harry says defensively. I don’t want him to question his talent, or that he’s deserving of a coach that believes in him. I just don’t trust Dave to be that for him. But I know that I’ve got my own issues, and maybe I am projecting them on Harry.

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s forget it. I need to sleep or I’ll be lead in the water tomorrow.”

  “Today,” he says. “It’s after midnight.”

  “Today, then.” I yawn. “Good night, Harry. I love you.”

  “Love you, Susie.”

  I’m so beat I expect to fall asleep instantly, but while my body is exhausted, my brain is wide-awake, spinning my conversation with Harry into troublesome knots. Why doesn’t he see what’s going on here? I don’t get how he could not be bothered by the way Dave is gunning for Beth. I can’t stand it that he’s getting drawn into Dave’s web.

  It’s not that I’m jealous that Dave’s paying attention to Harry and can’t be bothered with me. I’m not. But I am protective of Harry. I’m afraid that Dave’s using him. I really hope that’s not true.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  53 days until US Olympic Team Trials

  “I DON’T WANT you swimming in this Battle of the Sexes meet,” Beth tells me as soon as I sit down in her office for our weekly meeting. She’s careful not to talk negatively about Dave to me, but I can hear the unspoken disgust in her tone: This dumbass Battle of the goddamn Sexes meet.

  “Well, don’t beat around the bush about it,” I say. “Tell me what you really think.”

  “I’m serious. The PT is starting to pay off. You’re improving more rapidly than I expected, and the last thing we need is for you to reinjure your shoulder and set yourself back,” Beth says.

  “But don’t you think this is a good opportunity to test myself in competition? It’s less than two months till Trials. I need to keep my body race-ready.”

  Beth shakes her head. “It’s too soon,” she insists.

  “It feels like Dave is having this stupid meet to humiliate the girls,” I grumble. “It’s unfair. We’re working our asses off. It’s like he’s trying to break our spirits, setting us up for failure like this.”

  “I’m sure that’s not his intention,” Beth says tightly. I can tell she doesn’t believe that. “Let’s go over this week’s—”

  “How many of us do you think could beat the fastest boys in a head-to-head race?” I ask her. “Five or six? Sarah and Trinity and Gwen and Lilly, maybe Jessa? I think I could, but if I’m not swimming...that’s not enough to give the girls a fighting chance. I feel guilty, not helping the team.” I give Beth a look. “Don’t you think that could be bad for morale?”

  Beth sighs. “You’re not going to let up until I agree to let you race, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “One event. Only the 200 IM. Will that be enough to make you feel like you’re contributing meaningfully to the team effort?” Beth asks, staring at me over the tops of her glasses.

  “Yes!” I grin. She shakes her head, like I exasperate her, but I think she appreciates my stubbornness. Beth likes that I’m not a quitter. Sometimes I wonder if that’s because of the way her own swimming career ended—abruptly, out of anger and resentment, and without closure.

  “You have to promise me you won’t push yourself if you start to feel pain,” Beth insists. “This is not the time to be playing fast and loose with your health. If your labrum were to tear again, or God forbid some other muscle or ligament in your shoulder, you’ll have to sit out Trials.”

  I know this, but hearing her say it so bluntly sobers me right up.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promise.

  * * *

  Dave’s Battle of the Sexes scrimmage is scheduled for the first Saturday in May, which also happens to be my seventeenth birthday. Harry and I have plans to celebrate after the meet with dinner at a fancy restaurant all the way downtown. He’s been saving up for it, doing odd jobs for family members and neighbors. I wish I could say it matters to me where we eat my birthday dinner, because it matters so much to him, but as long as I’m with Harry, I could be eating sawdust for all I care.

  Our relationship is still a s
ecret, so I had to lie to my parents about spending Saturday night at Amber’s house, because I know they won’t check up on that. Friday evening is reserved for a family celebration with my parents and sister, plus Bela.

  On Friday afternoon, Mom picks me up from school to drive me to my physical therapy appointment—Dad’s car is in the shop again, and he’s borrowing Bela’s for the day.

  At least, I think we’re going to physical therapy, but Mom turns out of the school parking lot going the opposite direction.

  “Hey, uh, Mom?” I say, tapping her arm. “It’s the other way.”

  “We’re not going to Joan’s today,” she tells me. “I canceled that appointment and scheduled a different one. With Dr. Galletti.”

  “You’re taking me with you to the gynecologist?” I ask. She glances at me out of the corner of her eye and I realize what’s happening. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but it’s clear that something’s still going on between you and Harry. I’ll remind you, my darling dummy, that your phone bill comes to me.”

  “We never broke up,” I admit. I decide not to tell her about Dave’s ultimatum, because it’s the sort of controlling behavior she’d get all fired up about and want to fight. Everything is too precarious right now for that, and I don’t want Dave suspecting Harry and I never did what he instructed.

  Instead, I err on the side of vagueness. “Dave doesn’t like swimmers dating each other. We decided to keep it quiet so he wouldn’t get on our case.”

  “I don’t see why ‘keeping it quiet’ necessitated lying to your parents.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. But we thought it would be simpler if we stuck to one story.”

  “This devious streak is a side of you I’ve never seen before, Susannah, and I’m not happy about it.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Where are you really spending tomorrow night after the meet?”

  “Harry’s taking me out to dinner downtown,” I tell her grudgingly.

  “It’s serious between you two, isn’t it?” Mom asks. I nod. “I didn’t think you’d lie to us like this for anything less than complete and total infatuation.”

  “It’s not infatuation,” I reply. “I’m in love with him.”

  “I see,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s mad about this or not. She seems calm, but Mom does not tolerate lying or rule-breaking from Nina and me. I bet she’s boiling inside, and also shocked to be dealing with this from me.

  “Well,” she adds, “that’s why we’re going to see Dr. Galletti. I should’ve done this back when you first started going out with Harry. As much as I’d love for you to stay my little girl forever, your body is not just a machine that swims. You need to know how to care for it.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t talk to Dad about this.” It’s one thing to have my mother speculating about the status of my sex life, but the idea of her having conversations about it with another person embarrasses me.

  “Of course I did! You’re forgetting, Dad and I were high school sweethearts, too. We know what we got up to when we were young and falling in love. We want to make sure you’re being safe and—no offense to Harry, but—we can’t assume he’ll be responsible enough.”

  “I hate this conversation,” I mutter.

  “Too bad. Honestly, if I had my way, you two would wait—although I guess I shouldn’t assume...” She glances at me. “Have you already had sex, Susannah?”

  “No! Mom, can we please stop talking about it?”

  “You don’t have to go into detail with me or anything, but no, we can’t stop talking about it. Becoming sexually active for the first time is an important threshold in a person’s life. I want you to feel informed and prepared and in control when you decide to take that next step—whenever and with whomever it happens someday.”

  I put my palms to my cheeks—they’re fever hot. The thing is, Harry and I haven’t talked about having sex on my birthday, or made plans for that to happen. I can’t say I haven’t thought about it, though, or figured that maybe tomorrow night could be The Night. And I guess, in those imagined scenarios, I assumed he’d bring condoms. I haven’t bought my own or anything. So maybe what I’m really embarrassed about is that I didn’t think more ahead about this.

  It’s unlike me. I worry and strategize about everything. I crave constancy and hate surprises. But deep down, I’m avoiding thinking about our first time because I’m afraid of disappointing Harry with my inexperience. If I give the possibilities too much consideration beforehand, there’s a real chance I’ll freeze up and chicken out in the moment, and that’s the absolute last thing I want.

  Can’t say I’m not grateful to Mom for forcing the issue, though. She’s saved me a lot of sweat about how I’m going to deal with birth control. After a routine exam, Dr. Galletti talks with me privately about my options, then gives me a prescription for the pill. Mom and I go right to the pharmacy to have the prescription filled, and while we wait, Mom makes me buy a pack of condoms—by myself, with my own money—to get me in the practice of doing it myself.

  “Never count on anybody else to ensure the quality of your reproductive health,” Mom tells me on the drive home from Walgreens. We’re stopped at a red light and I’m seized by the urge to hug her, so I do, quickly before the light turns green. She squeezes me tight, then lets me go.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say, feeling teary. I have such a great family.

  Mom smiles. “You’re welcome, mija. I’m not thrilled by the prospect of you having sex, but it’s my responsibility to take care of you, and to teach you how to take care of yourself. I take it seriously.”

  “You’re doing a good job,” I tell her.

  “Thanks,” she says. “Lucky for you, I got to practice with Nina. That was a disaster, but it seems I’ve worked the kinks out.”

  * * *

  That night, I lie in bed with my eyes closed, thinking about the packet of pills in my nightstand drawer and the box of condoms beside it. Frick and Frack are curled up near my head; I can hear the soft sounds of their breathing, feel the tickle of tails against my neck. It’s like there’s a heavy weight on my chest, a pile of bricks stacked haphazardly in the corner of a half-built house. When my phone lights up, I answer right away. I’m desperate to talk to Harry about this.

  A year ago, I had no idea he existed. Now, nothing seems to have really happened until I’ve told him about it.

  “My mom thinks we’re going to have sex tomorrow night,” I whisper into the phone.

  “Hi, Susie,” he says with a teasing smirk in his voice. “Sounds like you had an exciting day.”

  “Hi,” I say. I picture him lying in bed, shirtless in boxers, basically the same amount of clothing he’s wearing in seventy-five percent of our interactions. But the image sends a shiver of carbonated lust up my spine, and I remember what Harry said to me on the beach in Texas: Swimsuits are equipment, underwear is sexy. I bought a new dress for my birthday dinner but have given zero thought, until this moment, to what I should wear underneath it. That will have to be revisited.

  “What’s this about us having sex?”

  “My mom kidnapped me this afternoon and took me to the gyno instead of PT,” I tell him. “I’m on the pill now. Oh, and she made me buy a pack of condoms.”

  “You told her about us? It was supposed to be a secret.” Harry sounds panicked. A month ago, I would’ve thought he was worried about putting my career in peril if Dave finds out we’re still together. Now I wonder if he’s not just as concerned for his own.

  “She figured it out. I guess I haven’t been as subtle as I thought. I’d make a terrible criminal.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” he says. “Cool of your mom to take you to the doctor instead of, like, locking you in a tower and throwing the key in the moat.”

  “I don’t think she’s so much cool as she’s
a woman married to the guy that she fell in love with when she was fourteen. Plus, they filled in the moat last summer. They’re more trouble than they’re worth, a breeding ground for mosquitos, basically.”

  He laughs. “I have a box of condoms, too. Just so you know.”

  I clear my throat. “Uh, good.”

  “My mom’s a nurse, so I had a similar experience a few years ago.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.” He hesitates, then adds: “Hypersexuality is a common enough trait among people who are bipolar that she felt it was important to teach me about safe sex as soon as possible.” He coughs. “I think I’m as sexual as the next guy my age, though. Pretty average on that front.”

  “Oh, well...that’s...good,” I say.

  “I wasn’t planning to seduce you tomorrow night or anything,” Harry says. “I was mainly focused on dinner. I’m excited to eat at this restaurant. But I’m ready if you’re ready.”

  I exhale slowly. My skin is sensitive to the touch; Frack’s tail brushes my shoulder and my body lights up like a struck match. Even though he’s not here in my room, I can sense Harry all around me. I can almost smell his soap. In my imagination, he’s lying on his bed with the covers thrown off and the window slightly cracked because he likes the fresh air, his hand splayed across his bare stomach just above his navel where the trail of soft blond hair begins, fingertips drumming against his abs to the beat of a song only he can hear.

  Something has changed since the beach in Texas. I wasn’t ready then, but I am now. At least, I think I am. How am I supposed to know when I’m ready? But I think about it all the time.

  “Susie,” he says, “promise me that no matter what happens at the meet tomorrow, it’s not going to change us.” He lowers his voice and says, “We exist outside of that pool.”

  I pause to think about that. Sometimes I feel like I don’t exist outside of the pool, like when I’m not there I’m something less than myself. Like I might disappear. But I want to believe Harry. I give myself over to the fantasy that I can be who I’m meant to be on dry land, too.