by Sarah Tomp
“I almost died today. I was in a dark place, all alone. Scared of being lost, forever. Fear showed up, but it couldn’t save me. It didn’t even want to.” She bounced slowly, rhythmically. “Because the thing is, if I disappeared, then you wouldn’t find me. I wouldn’t have to be scared anymore.”
“You’re obviously upset.” His voice was calm, reasonable. “Get down so we can talk.”
She hesitated. Wondered if talking could work.
“I trusted you.” She bounced harder. “I believed everything you said.” Each bounce lifted her a little higher. Each thunk bolstered her more. “I did anything you wanted. I gave you everything.” She launched herself several feet into the air. There was the illusion of being out of control, but then she landed on the narrow plank, caught her balance. “I never complained, I never told anyone the truth about all those times you hurt me.”
“Come on, Ria. Get down.” He was begging now. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he sounded worried. Maybe even scared. “If you turn around and climb down that ladder, we can figure things out. Together. You’ll see how things really are.”
“But I see everything from here.” She opened her arms wide.
“Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
Someone, somewhere, splashed in the pool. Voices were building in the silence, or maybe they’d never stopped. Time went on, always. There was no pause button, no way to stop and move in reverse. It was too late for regret. She had to go on.
“I chipped my tooth that day in Los Angeles. When I fell, I hit it on a rail. I never told anyone. I’ve been too used to keeping your secrets.”
“That fall was your own damn fault. Your head got screwed up. Like it is right now.”
He was right, but wrong, too. They’d both gotten so many things wrong.
“You’re the reason I ran at that meet. You, Benny. I was scared of you.” Tears streamed down her face, taking with them the embarrassment of that day when she saw the shock, the confusion of everyone who couldn’t understand why she ran.
“I didn’t touch you.” His voice had turned hard.
“You didn’t have to. You’d trained me to be scared. Every hit, kick, slap. All the times you screamed and pushed. All that training.” She ignored the tremble in her voice and kept going. “You know what the hardest, scariest part of the dive is for me now? It’s when I come up for air and see you, Benny. I never know when you’re going to hurt me. Or why. But I always know you can.”
“That’s enough!” He turned and kicked the deck chair. The way he’d kicked her, too many times to count. “Get down here or . . .”
He charged toward the ladder. For a terrible moment Fear was there, taking all her air. But there was another blur of movement, all across the deck as her teammates moved, rushing to beat him there. Her team stood at the base of the ladder, blocking him.
Sean’s whistle blew, loud and sharp. Warning. Reassuring.
Maggie slipped through the crowd and headed up to join Ria on the board. She moved beside her, their shoulders touching.
Benny crossed his arms, glaring. “You’re blowing your future all over again.”
“You mean yours. I can still dive without you. You need us—all of us—we’re the ones on the board. Without us, you’re nothing. I’m going to tell the NDT about you. I’m going to tell everyone.”
“You really think the NDT will want you knowing what a head case you are?” He laughed, cold and steely. “You’ve lost it worse than I thought.”
She faltered, then felt Maggie squeeze her hand.
“You’re right. I have lost something. I’ve lost part of myself. The fierce fighter part. The part of me who would have saved herself today. The part of me who would never hesitate at a second chance with the NDT. But that’s because you stole it from me. And now I’m taking it back. You don’t get to take anything more. Not from me, or anyone else.”
“We’re done. It’s over!” He turned and headed for the exit, awfully close to running.
Ria had never felt so sure she had the right answer. But being right didn’t mean being safe.
“What happened to you?” Maggie stared into her eyes, looking worried, like she cared.
“It’s a long story. A long way from there to here. I have so much to tell you.”
“Then let’s get out of here. I think we’d better hurry. Security is coming.”
She was still wearing her muddy clothes, but she couldn’t take them off, couldn’t let go.
“How?”
“More up than out.” Maggie grinned.
“Come with me,” she begged.
Maggie knew what she meant. They’d done this before. It was a way to show off, but also a way to share the trip down. Ria flipped into a handstand at the edge of the board. Maggie moved in, grabbing Ria’s muddy ankles. Maggie oscillated gently, then more surely. Ria let her do the work of it.
“One, two . . .” Maggie counted.
On three, they lifted off the board, bodies pressed tight together. Ria’s face mushed against Maggie’s shins as they moved into a layout flip. Bodies straight, aligned, and holding on tight, spinning as one, feeling as if there couldn’t possibly be time or space to rotate . . . until they did.
She remembered now, there was a joy in falling.
Forty-Three
When Ria finally got home, there were hours of talking to her parents. Even though the Talleys had called and done the heaviest explaining, Mom and Dad had questions on top of questions. She’d had a few answers, and then she’d had questions, too.
Her parents sat with her while she told them everything. She almost stopped talking when Mom started to cry, but she was stronger than that. She wasn’t a quitter. And so, she went on, giving examples and details. The police weren’t sure what charges could be filed, but they wanted her to make a formal report.
The International Diving Association assured her they’d complete their own investigation. Benny’s coaching privileges were on hold, frozen until they could gather more information.
Her parents were going to call the NDT and all the other elite teams too. They’d help her figure out her options. They’d take her to meet the new coaches. And to talk to the other divers. It was up to her to figure out what she wanted.
Without Benny.
Finally, nestled between them in bed, she collapsed into a dark, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, they still treated her as if she was fragile. Ready to splinter. Once they finally, thankfully, left for work, she was hit with a wave of exhaustion and went back to her own bed.
When she woke again, she felt disoriented. She still wasn’t used to the new arrangement of her bedroom. She reached for the wall, expecting it to be an arm’s length away, forgetting it was now on the other side of the bed. She heard a noise from outside. She knew it, and yet couldn’t think what it was. It felt misplaced.
She wandered downstairs to investigate.
Through the glass patio door, she spied Cotton on her trampoline. Standing—or no—that stiff-legged motion was what he called jumping.
She slid the door open. “Bend your legs.”
He turned to look at her. “Will you teach me to flip?”
She hesitated, then stepped outside. He was still doing his almost-kinda-sorta jumping as she lifted herself up to join him.
“Why are you here, Cotton?”
“I wanted to see you.” He tilted his head, looking at her intently, as if to prove his point. “I’m sorry I hurt you. When I grabbed you in the cave.”
“Thank you. But I’m sorry I ran away. I left you alone when you were upset.”
“I wasn’t alone. I was with Leo and Flutie. I’ve been worried about you.”
“No, Cotton. I was worried about you.”
“We can worry about each other.”
She liked the balance in that. “What did the police say about the cave?”
“They will investigate. My parents say the best thing to hope for is we never
hear anything more.”
“It’s hard to hope for nothing.”
“Yes.” He slowed his pseudo-jumping. “But I don’t want to expect the worst, either.”
Sometimes the worst sneaks up on you anyway. Other times you cling to it, keep it close.
She slid across the springy surface until he was within reach. “Are you ready to flip?”
“Yes.”
She moved to the center of the trampoline and said, “Start with your legs bent.” She showed him, patting the spot beside her.
Cotton scrunched his long legs beneath him. “Like this?” he asked, toppling to the side.
“Except hold it.” She waited for him to get it, then said, “Look at the edge of the trampoline. Good. Now push off with your feet and throw yourself backward.”
“Backward is too scary.”
“It’s easier to go that direction.” Seeing the look on his face, she laughed. “All right. Then throw yourself forward.”
The blank look on his face told her he wasn’t going anywhere, yet.
“Let’s try a somersault first. Squat with me. Now, tuck your head. Try to land on the spot below your neck.” She ran her hand from the place where his hair ended down between his shoulder blades. When she felt him shiver beneath her hand, she pressed more firmly, so as not to tickle. “Make this spot touch the trampoline.”
Cotton moved forward, tucking and folding, then landing like a crooked lump.
“I think I forgot to straighten my legs.”
He’d also missed several other steps, but what he lacked in skill, he bolstered with effort. Again and again, he threw himself forward, his body in varying degrees of curled, stretching at the last second like he might land on his feet. At one point she was sure he was going to launch himself off the trampoline, but somehow, miraculously, he landed in a crumpled heap inches from the edge.
Eventually, he lay still on his back and let out a huge sigh.
“You’re a good coach.”
“That’s what I thought I would do. I wanted to be a coach. Like Benny.”
“Not like Benny. Like Ria.”
She rolled onto her back, looking up into the branches.
“I want to dive. I want to see how good I can get. I want to qualify for the Olympics and I want to win a big kick-ass gold medal. I want to be the best.” She sighed. “But if diving doesn’t work out, I guess I could be a stripper at the Big Top.”
“Yes. You could.”
It didn’t make sense to be insulted. It was her idea, and he was simply confirming something she already knew was true. She was athletic and graceful. Showing her skin was a matter of anatomy. She could keep her head and feelings to herself. And yet, she didn’t like Cotton agreeing so quickly.
Little bits of cloud floated behind the tree branches. They looked closer than usual. “Is it true that the sky isn’t really blue?” she asked. “Is it only an illusion?”
“What does ‘blue’ mean?”
“I don’t know. It means . . . blue.” She could feel it, sense it, maybe even taste it. But there wasn’t any better word to explain it. “I think the sky is blue. But it’s a different kind than the blue of water. Each blue is all its own.”
She rolled onto her side, facing him. She placed her hand palm-side down and stretched her fingers apart, wide and star-like. He did the same, placing his fingers carefully between hers. She could feel the heat of his skin near hers. It made her wish.
Her toes found his. Their feet pressed against each other, as if she was standing on his feet, and he was lifting her. She shifted again, bringing her hip into alignment with his. Not touching, but near. Their sizes didn’t seem so unevenly matched from this view.
She thought about kissing him, but he seemed too far away. It would take too much effort to get there. She might get lost.
It was all so confusing to want something that felt so terrifyingly, ridiculously inevitable and also completely impossible. She wished wildly that being with Cotton could be easier. Easy might be nice right now.
“I think you’re geeky, Ria.”
“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“It’s true. You ask good questions and think hard thoughts. And you see things I miss. Plus . . .” He broke into that smile she loved. “You must be geeky, to be with me.”
“Yeah. I must be a supergeek. Maybe I could get a cape.”
“You could wear your cape to work at the Big Top.” He sounded a little too matter-of-fact to be joking. “But there are lots of other things you could do instead. You could be a hairstylist. Or a reporter. You could teach kids like me to do flips. You might want to be a cartographer and make maps. There’s not one right answer.”
Ria’s heart felt a little bit lighter. It would be nice to think she had choices. Choosing meant something. It was like winning, but better.
“I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s choose something to eat.”
Inside, Cotton cooked, while she cleaned, step by step, behind him. It was amazing what he could put together using the contents of her refrigerator and pantry. He hadn’t smuggled in any contraband ingredients, but his brown rice with vegetables mixed in, topped with something cool yet spicy that he called “volcanic fruit salad,” all tasted better than anything her parents ever made. Maybe she could learn to cook. He hadn’t followed a recipe, so there wasn’t a worry of muddling the instructions.
“I’m not the reason Esther will find her way home.”
She set her fork down.
He pushed his plate away, even though there was still a pile of rice on it. “I’m considering going to college next year. I’ve arranged to take a tour of Tustin University. It’s only ninety-seven miles away.”
“That’s great.”
“I’d like you to help me see it. You’ll notice things I’ll miss.” He looked into her eyes, searching. “Will you come with me?”
“Yes.” Not a lot of words fit around the ache in her throat.
“Good.” He frowned. “I can’t tell how you’re feeling. Your face looks wrong.”
“I’m happy you might go to college. But I’ll miss you.”
They both knew missing too well to pretend it wasn’t real. But missing meant you’d had something once. And maybe you’d have something again someday.
They moved into the family room. Without food to distract them, her house sounded overwhelmingly quiet. It was contagious, hard to interrupt. She faced him, not talking, not touching, not knowing what to do with her hands and arms and legs and the way she kept focusing in on his mouth.
“Do you want to watch something?” she asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to listen to music?”
“No.”
He lifted his chin, looking left, as if the ceiling corner was the most interesting spot in the room.
“What’s wrong, Cotton? You look worried.”
The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “I like kissing you, Ria.”
She waited for him to explain the but she heard in the space around his words.
“When we kiss, my body gets in a hurry.”
“Mine too, Cotton.”
“I don’t want to squid you.”
“Do we need rules?”
“Yes.”
“Kissing. Sitting up. All clothes on. For ten minutes.”
They didn’t set a timer—although she had a feeling Cotton wanted to—but it was pretty close to exact by the time they came up for air.
“I like that.”
“Me too.” Her body was warm and trembly with proof.
She never used to think her head would be helpful in matters of kissing. But setting the rules, the step-by-step procedure of hands and hips and here-right-here, was incredibly freeing. Hands roamed over, then under, and between. All of it negotiated and tried and savored. There wasn’t worry and nerves and whoa, oh no. It was only yesyesyes, and thisthisthis in the moment.
Her mind was a swirl of se
nses, a melting of colors alternated with the awareness of four hands roaming, two mouths breathing short and fast. Both of them kissing, holding, thrumming. Their bodies had taken over. Her inner density had changed. They were both wonderfully rumpled and hot and wrinkled and messy, wrapped up in a tangle of two.
It was like following a map. Or being the map. Longitudes and latitudes. North, east, south, west, and everywhere in between. One place leading to another. Being both lost and found. It was the thrill and the fear wrapped around an unknown adventure, searching and exploring, only to find they’d been here all along. This was the place they knew best.
Epilogue
A year later, Ria had been to seven different countries, and within those, even more cities and towns. She’d managed to officially graduate from high school and had even made a quick trip home for prom, which was not at all a horror-movie bloodbath, though she’d ruined her dress when they’d gone caving after the dance. And then she’d had to board a plane in the morning. Cotton had given her a logbook, and in it she’d recorded the coordinates of each place, as well as sketches and notes to go with the maps and photographs she collected along the way. She sent menus to Cotton, highlighting the dishes she wanted him to try to make.
Following her therapist’s advice, she kept track of her feelings too, using colored markers and symbols when words weren’t clear enough. There was no right or wrong way to feel. Old memories turned into maps, where there was room to mark missteps and victories, the good with the bad. In the same logbook, she kept records of her scores for each of her many meets. Her placing within the ranks of contenders. Any bits of advice she’d gathered from her coaches or other divers. All of it combined would help her to remember where she’d been. There’s never only one way to see something.
Wherever she went, and whatever language greeted her, the pools welcomed her. The smell of chlorine and sunscreen, the rippled reflections across the water, the sound of splashing and talking and whistles and, most of all, the rhythmic ka-thunks of the diving boards made her feel at home.
This meet mattered more than the others. Added to what she’d already achieved, her scores would decide the next part of her journey. At the end of the day, she’d be pointed in a certain direction. Her future would take on a new shape. But she knew any journey has its ups and downs. There’s never only one way from here to there and back again.
