Head Above Water

by Amber Garza

  “What are you doing in here?” Dad’s voice startles me. I leap back feeling guilty even though I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s how he always makes me feel.

  “Um…the door was open and I walked in.”

  Dad runs a hand over his salt and pepper hair. He’s been grey for as long as I can remember, even though I know it used to be dark because I’ve seen pictures. He has on a business suit, his tie loose around his neck like he was about to take it off. Wrinkles are formed around his eyes reminding me of how old he is now. He seemed ageless when I was younger. Now he looks so old and tired. I would give anything to get back the man who used to play games with me; the man who taught me to ride a bike and used to let me dress him up like a princess. But that man died along with Heather. Now I would be happy with a hug once in awhile. Hell, even a smile would do.

  “I think your mom’s been doing something in there.” He fidgets uncomfortably.

  “Dad, you okay?”

  “Fine.” He waves away my words, his expression hard. “Get out of there. Your mom can do what she wants, but that doesn’t mean we all have to prance around in Heather’s room.”

  His words are like a slap in the face. Heather was my sister. I can be in her room. When he turns away from me and stomps down the hall, I blink back tears. Heather was always his favorite. She’s the one he wanted. I just happen to be the one that’s left.

  “Oh, Harper.” Mom appears in the doorway, standing in the exact spot Dad had been in. Her blond hair falls gently over her shoulders, her blue eyes shine. I take after my mom. She honestly looks like an older version of me. Mom used to tease Dad, saying that Heather and I were the mailman’s since we look nothing like him. But those kind of jokes ended a million years ago, back when all of us were here. Back when we were happy. Back when Dad laughed and smiled. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you before you saw it. I’ve decided it’s time to clean up this room.”

  “What do you mean?” I hug myself.

  “I can’t keep this room a shrine for Heather for the rest of my life. It’s not healthy. I’m thinking of turning it into a guest room.”

  “Like for other people to stay in when they come over?” The thought is appalling. “Who would want to stay in here? In a dead girl’s room?”

  “Harper, it’s not a dead girl’s room.” Mom’s face looks stricken, and I feel bad for my choice of wording.

  “You know what I mean.” I take a deep breath, and I swear I can still smell Heather.

  “Heather hasn’t lived in this room for years. It’s time to move on. For all of us.”

  “But what will you do with all her stuff?” I haven’t even looked at her stuff in years, but the thought of getting rid of it suddenly causes me to panic.

  “I don’t know. Donate it. But if there’s something you want, you can have it.”

  I nod, feeling sick. My gaze scours the room and a sweat breaks out on my body. The walls close in around me.

  “Harper? You okay?” Mom’s voice sounds faraway.

  Visions of Heather materialize. I see her playing with her stuffed animals in the corner, her blond hair curled around her face, her cheeks bright. A vision of her dancing in front of her mirror and singing into her hairbrush surfaces. I inhale sharply and shake my head. “Yeah. I just need to get out of here.”

  “Oh, honey.” Mom catches me in her arms. “This is exactly why I’m doing this. It’s still so difficult, huh?”

  I nod, swallowing back a well of emotion. Heather’s death was hard on everyone, but no one more than me. I’ll carry the guilt of her death with me for the rest of my life.

  4

  TAG

  WHEN I FIRST saw Harper she was soaking wet, water beading on her eyelashes and drenching her hair. Yet she looked beautiful. Then I went to her work and she looked incredibly hot in her business suit, her hair swept back in a bun at the nape of her neck. But nothing could prepare me for how sexy she would look on our date in a tight fitting sundress and strappy sandals, her hair loose and flowing down her shoulders, golden like the sun.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks.” She lowers her gaze, her eyelashes casting shadows over her smooth skin.

  As we enter the restaurant, I see several guys looking over at her appreciatively. But it’s funny, because I can tell that she doesn’t know how pretty she is. She keeps her head down as we follow the hostess to our table. Thankfully we are seated in a cozy booth in the corner. The table is dimly lit, a candle flickering in the center. I chose this Italian restaurant, not only because I love the food, but the atmosphere is simple, yet romantic. It seemed perfect for tonight.

  Harper slides into the booth, and I slip in right next to her. She unhooks her purse and sets it next to her lap. I can’t help but catch a quick glimpse at her bare, shapely legs under her frilly skirt as I take my seat. The busboy comes by and gives us some water and sets a basket of bread in the middle of the table. Harper quietly reaches for a piece and takes a tiny nibble.

  I take a sip of the ice cold water in an effort to cool myself down a little. Harper’s proximity is making me burn up. I marvel once again on the effect this girl has on me. “So, you’ve lived in San Diego your whole life? Has it always been in this area?”

  “Yes. Same house and everything. What about you?”

  “I grew up in Chula Vista, but moved here about four years ago.” I smile at her. “I guess that explains why we didn’t go to school together. I’m guessing we’re around the same age.”

  “Is that your subtle way of asking how old I am?” She raises her brows in a challenge.

  God, I like this girl.

  “Is that your subtle way of avoiding the question?” I quip back.

  “Touché.” She lets out a light giggle. “I just turned twenty-one.”

  “Ah, that’s why you were so defensive about being old enough to drink. I should’ve known it was a recent occurrence,” I say.

  “So by that statement I’m guessing we aren’t the same age? So, how much older and wiser are you than me?” There is a teasing lilt in her voice that I find so seductive.

  “I’m twenty-three.”

  “So not much.” She winks.

  “Maybe not that much older, but I’m pretty sure I’m a whole lot wiser.”

  “Is that so?” She picks at the piece of bread in her hand. “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t have been hanging out with some idiot who thinks it’s cool to throw girls in the water who can’t swim.”

  She freezes, staring up at me, and I worry that I’ve said something wrong. But then she grins. “Yeah, he was an idiot. You’re right. But in my defense, I didn’t know him until that day. He works with my friend Kate. It was sort of her birthday party.”

  “The girl who helped you?”

  She nods. “She’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were little kids. She’s literally the only person who can get me to go to the beach.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that you’ll never come to see me at work?” I try to make light of it, but it worries me. I mean, I know she can’t swim, but I kind of hoped that maybe I could change that. The beach is such a huge part of my life.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she says, with no hint of joking.

  “Really?” I grow serious.

  She seems to sense the change in my mood, because she looks at me with a dark expression. “I thought I made myself pretty clear. I don’t swim, Tag.”

  Our waiter interrupts to tell us the specials, and then he heads off. I don’t even hear what he says. I’m too busy thinking about what Harper said right before he came over. When he leaves, Harper opens her menu and starts scanning it. I mindlessly look at it, but I’m not registering anything. Finally, I turn to her. “So, you’re saying that you never want to learn to swim? You never want to go back to the beach?”

  She peers up over her menu and shakes her head. “Nope.”
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  “Why?”

  She stiffens. “Just because, okay?”

  I can practically see the walls she’s building around herself as she stares back at the menu. Clearly her fear of the water isn’t something she’s going to openly discuss right now. And honestly, I don’t blame her. I never should’ve pressed. It’s only our first date. She may not even want to see me after tonight. So, why does it bother me so much? In suspect it’s because I know I’ll want to see her again. I can already tell that once I let her in, I’ll never want to let her go.

  However, tonight I need to back off the intensity a little bit.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s fine if you don’t want to swim. That’s your right.” I nudge her. “Besides, you said you like to hike, and jog and ride bikes. That gives us plenty of activities to do together.”

  The smile she flashes me reveals that the damage I did earlier is forgotten, and my heart soars. I quickly look over my menu so I can be ready to order when the waiter comes back. Finally I decide on the lasagna, while Harper orders the ravioli. After the waiter pours us our glasses of red wine, I hold mine up.

  “Cheers.”

  She clinks hers to mine. “Cheers.”

  I watch as she lifts the glass to her glossy lips. The satisfied look on her face as she sips it makes my heart skip a beat. I imagine what it would feel like to be that glass, to touch her lips, to taste her mouth. When she looks back at me, I avert my gaze, afraid she’ll figure out what I’m thinking.

  “Do you come here often?” she asks.

  “Sometimes. My mom loves Italian food. It’s her favorite.”

  “Your mom, huh?” Surprise is evident in her expression. “Do you take her out often?”

  My stomach clenches. I know that my relationship with my mom seems weird to most people. Most twenty-three-old guys don’t live at home to take care of their moms. And truthfully, I don’t want to share the story about my mom with Harper on our first date. That seems more like a third date thing to share. Or maybe even later than that. The last girl to meet my mom was Ginny. A sick feeling fills my gut at the memories of that relationship. When I glance up at Harper, I choke back the bile rising in my throat. Harper looks nothing like Ginny, yet she does kind of remind me of her. I tug at my collar, and reach for my water. After taking a sip, I force deep breaths and will the thoughts back to the present. I won’t let Ginny ruin this for me. She’s ruled my life for too long. It’s time to let go. Harper eyes me funny so I force a light smile. “Had a little tickle in my throat.” Her expression evens out, and I’m thankful she bought the lie. Finally I answer her question, “Sometimes I take my mom out. We’re pretty close.”

  “That’s sweet.” She runs a finger over the rim of her wine glass and it drives me wild. I imagine her fingers touching me like that. “What about your dad? Are you close with him too?”

  I clear my throat. “Um…no. I mean, I was. He’s sort of…well, he passed away a few years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “No. How could you know?” I smile to lighten the mood.

  Luckily, it’s then that our food comes. For a few minutes it’s silent as we start to eat. Wiping the corner of my mouth with the cloth napkin, I say, “What about you? What is your family like?”

  “Well, it’s only my mom and dad and I,” she says, but I hear something else under her words. It’s that same sadness I sometimes sense in her eyes. It makes me wonder again at the story she won’t share. “We’re a tight family. I still live with them actually.” Pink rises on her cheeks at the admission. “It’s easier for me right now while I’m in school. Besides, I’m saving to move out. I need a little more time”

  “That makes sense.” I place my hand over hers. “It’s not a big deal. I still live with my mom too.”

  “You do?” She cocks one eyebrow.

  “Yeah. She sort of needs me to help out, be the man of the house, you know?”

  She nods, but doesn’t ask anymore questions. For that I’m grateful. As we continue to eat, I wonder where Harper has been my whole life. She’s so different than the girls I normally date. And we have this amazing connection that’s been obvious from the moment we met. It’s clear that she’s got a lot of baggage, but I’m hoping that one day she’ll be able to open up to me about it. I have the feeling that maybe we are exactly what each other needs.

  “Looks like someone got laid last night.” Clint slaps me on the back when I show up at the lifeguard station for check in at six in the morning. It’s still dark outside, and I hold my thermos of hot coffee in my fist, my lunch bag hanging between my fingertips.

  “What?” I’m wondering if he’s complimenting or accusing.

  “Oh come on, it’s obvious you got laid.”

  “No, I didn’t.” I am appalled at his statement. The truth is, I didn’t even kiss Harper. Hell, I wanted to more than anything. I stared at those perfect heart shaped lips all night imagining what they would feel like. But then when I dropped her off, I decided not to. I want things to last with Harper. I want to string out our firsts so we have something to look forward to. I don’t want to get them all over with in one night.

  “Then why do you look so happy? You’re grinning like an idiot.”

  “Oh. I had a date last night.” After clocking in, we head inside for the morning meeting. All the other lifeguards stand around chatting, while they wait for Lewis, our shift supervisor, to show up and start our shift meeting.

  “Isn’t that what I said?” Clint asks.

  “No, you said I got laid,” I clarify.

  “Same thing.”

  I shake my head. Is Clint for real?

  “So who was it? Anyone I know?”

  I contemplate not telling him, but he’ll probably figure it out at some point. I’m hoping to wear Harper down after we’ve been dating a little longer and get her to come here. “Remember the girl who almost drowned the other day?”

  “In the shallow water? No way! You’re dating that crazy chick?”

  I instantly regret telling him. “She’s not crazy.”

  “Oh, you mean she did that to get you to rescue her. Like she had the hots for you?”

  I laugh at his thinking, but I decide to go with it. “Maybe.”

  “Sweet. I want some hot chick to pretend to drown for me.”

  I roll my eyes at Clint. “Okay, good luck with that, buddy.”

  “Hey, if you see anymore hot damsels in distress today, let me know. Don’t hog them all.”

  “I’ll try not to,” I tell him, as Lewis swaggers in the room, clipboard in hand.

  Everyone quiets down, and I take a swig of hot coffee. It burns my tongue, and I gag. The thermos keeps it too hot. It doesn’t cool down until afternoon, and by then I don’t want to drink it. I listen intently as Lewis tells us our zone assignments and the conditions of the water.

  When everyone disperses, I head into the locker room. After putting my lunch in my locker, I slap on some sunblock, loop my whistle around my neck and head out to my zone. It’s already warming up as the sun starts to rise. The sky is painted in gold and pinks as I jog toward my chair. I climb up it and plop myself down, enjoying the rays of sunshine as they beat against my back. After stripping off my shirt, I discard it next to me and then pick up my binoculars. There aren’t many people out yet, but there are a few scattered along the beach and in the water.

  My gaze lands on a dad teaching his daughter to swim. He holds her in the crook of his arm, showing her how to push and pull with her arms. She mimics him while he holds her securely in the water.

  It reminds me of when my dad taught me to swim. We used to spend hours out here. I can still remember the way it felt with his arms around me. Never did I question my security and safety. In Dad’s arms, I knew I was safe.

  Even though it’s been several years since he passed away, I still miss him every day. It’s almost like there is this gaping hole in my life that he used to fill, and no matter what I do it’s alwa
ys open and empty. Nothing has been right in the world since he left. Not for me, and definitely not for Mom. And then everything happened with Ginny, further complicating things. I’ve only dated a couple of girls since her, and I’ve kept them all at an arm’s distance. But I don’t want to do that with Harper. She’s the first person I’ve met since Dad died that makes me forget. When I’m with her, the hole seems smaller, more manageable. As I continue to stare at the child and her father, a thought hits me. Maybe I can teach Harper to swim.

  I’ll ask her about it next time we go out. And there will be a next time. I plan to call her tonight. I know that makes me seem desperate or something. I’m sure guys like Clint wait a week or more before calling the girl again. But I don’t care. I like Harper. In fact, I like her more than I thought possible. And I want to go out with her again. I don’t want to play the usual dating games. No, I want to be real with her. And the sooner I can see her, the better. She’s like a ray of sunshine in my dark life, and I want more.

  5

  HARPER

  I’M SURPRISED WHEN he calls. I mean, I had a great time on our date, but I wasn’t sure if he did. He didn’t even try to kiss me when he dropped me off. In fact, he didn’t touch me at all except for the one time he placed his hand over mine. I kind of assumed he wasn’t that interested. But it hasn’t even been twenty four hours and he’s calling me.

  I press the phone to my ear, ignoring my mom’s curious looks. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Harper. It’s Tag,” his rich, warm voice fills the line.

  “So I guess I’m it this time,” I joke, then wonder if that was super cheesy.

  “You are definitely it,” he responds, causing my insides to warm.

  I turn away from my mom’s gaze, but I can still feel it searing into my head. In order to get some privacy, I start walking up the stairs. Maybe I am too old to still live at home. My bare feet slap on the hardwood steps as I hurry to get to my room. Once inside, I close the door and sit on my bed.