Easy Reunion

by Jerald, Tracey

  Just like the woman herself.

  As she touches the far wall, I duck under the water, yanking my cap off as I do so. Hauling myself out, I admire the gracefulness of her glide, not too fast, not too slow.

  Much like the way her hands touched my body a few nights ago.

  Gritting my teeth against the tingles forming in my lower spine—something I came to the pool to work out—I make my way to the men’s locker room and debate if I should approach her or if I should give her the solitude I know the deep blue waters can give to a soul that’s in need of some quiet.

  Chapter 10

  Kelsey

  Fat. Stroke. Cow. Stroke. Hippo. Stroke. Each time I swim, my brain does a dump of the names I remember being called, purging them from my soul. Some days, I look in the mirror and I still see the reflection of the woman who was so grotesquely overweight. I rarely see the woman whose body can go into any store and find an outfit to buy off a rack. I shy away from people who compliment me on my looks because I doubt they’re telling me the truth. After all, I know what lies underneath. Wasn’t I told by enough people that I was ugly and unworthy? That I should do the world a favor and kill myself? God, who does that to another human being?

  And what’s worse is I contemplated it. I tried to carve King Kong onto my arm.

  The top of the I remains to this day as a scar on my forearm from where I pressed the blade just a little deeper than the other letters as I carved the offensive words in before the sight of all that blood made me sick. As a result, in the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, I wore long-sleeved shirts to cover up the mess I made of my heart and my mind.

  Of course, I was ridiculed for that too. What? Are you too fat to want to show your skin in the middle of the heat? My kick gets more forceful as I remember. I created a barrier around myself when I walked through the not-so-hallowed halls of Forsyth. That is until I met Ry in the second quarter of my junior year.

  My creative writing instructor asked me to assist the popular junior in writing. She explained this would be a safe place for me. With my permission, she provided him with one of my writing samples and me with one of his. Immediately, I could see what one of the concerns was. Ry was holding back. Technically, his writing was excellent, but he was writing according to a textbook.

  Not according to his soul.

  When he came in for his first session, I was shocked when the handsome boy immediately said, “Your writing is beautiful. I was captivated from the first word.”

  I stammered, “Thank…thank you.” Even now, even as my arms cut through the water, I feel my cheeks redden in memory.

  As he dropped into a desk next to me, he asked me bluntly, “So, what am I doing wrong?”

  I blurted out, “You’re holding back.” Pulling out his essay on swimming, I asked him one question. “Don’t tell me the mechanics. What is it you feel when you’re in the water?”

  His jaw tightening, he refused to meet my eyes. “Escape. That’s what I feel.”

  My stomach bumping hard into the tiny desk, I whispered, “Then write about that.” I gathered my backpack. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  His head shot up. “That’s it? That’s what your advice is?”

  I shrugged. “Creative writing for me isn’t about perfection. It’s about letting loose the emotion boiling over inside of yourself. It’s the hardest and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.” Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I tipped my lips to one side. “You have excellent writing skills. You just won’t let yourself go.” Without another word, I shuffled my way toward the door.

  In my locker a few days later, there was a folded piece of paper. Great, I thought, another note. There were often notes, cruel, insulting pieces of trash I couldn’t bring myself to throw away. But this one was special.

  It was a hastily scribbled-out copy of his revised essay. And it was beautiful.

  Of all the things I threw out when I purged myself of my old life, I kept that one-page handwritten note on finding escape in the cool blue water, how the echo of nothing in his ears was more soothing than the waves of the ocean. That there was nothing to interfere with blanking out the pain. How weightless his heart, his mind, his soul could feel when there was something else to support it. Ry never knew it, but his description of water is what initially drove me to look for colleges near bodies of water. They just happened to be as far away from Georgia as I could get.

  I shake my head even as I turn it to the side for a breath. I face back into the water and am swept into the memory of our tutoring sessions. After I’d read his revised essay, I met a very nervous Ry later that same day in Professor Wiley’s classroom. He was staring out the window when I first walked in and closed the door behind me. Before I could even greet him, he said, “I’m not entirely certain I’m comfortable with writing like that.”

  “Not many people are,” I let him know quietly. “It’s a lot easier to read someone else’s words and relate to them than to write your own.”

  He nodded, his back still to me. “Why do you do it?”

  My heart stopped in my chest. There was no way he could know about the volumes of journals I poured my heart into at home, purging the toxic emotions out of my soul. My breathing harsh in the room, I answered, “Because if I didn’t, I would have no way not to fall to my knees under the burden that’s shoved down on me.”

  Finally, he turned to face me. We locked eyes. We were half a room away from each other. “It’s wrong, what they do to you. I’ve tried to stop it.”

  “I know.” And I’d seen Ry Perrault tell his friends to “knock it off” whenever possible.

  “Don’t let them break you,” he’d said fiercely. And I fanned that flame of strength until it was too late. When one final moment snuffed out all the light—made it so I’d never want to take a shot at trusting another person with that deep core of myself ever again.

  It was the moment he’d become one of them and broken me.

  I ran off that stage into the waiting arms of my grandparents. Forsaking the lovely dinner out in downtown Savannah, Pop-pop made sure my old car was as fit as it could be for the cross-country trek I blubbered I was making that night. He topped it off with gas while Nana alternately held my heaving body to her breast, then helped me pack all my belongings. I was going to take everything with me to sort through once I hit the opposite coast. While I wanted nothing of Georgia to touch my life in California, I would have to take it with me and go through it there since I didn’t plan on staying any longer than necessary in Savannah.

  Despite what happened on my graduation day, and the campfire grill purge of my past Angel and I performed with all of the old notes I’d accumulated, I kept that first essay from Ry. There was something so honest in it, more so than anything else he’d ever said or done.

  And I found out he was right.

  After surgery, the water became my exercise refuge. Surrounded by its weightlessness, I could do more, dream more, be more. I tip my head to the side to get another burst of air, continuing to rotate my arms over again. Finally, sixty laps later, I glide into the wall. “Not bad,” I murmur to myself.

  Then I hear a voice above me. “No, not bad at all. If you cool down, you’ll have swum over a mile. Jesus, Kelsey, I’m impressed.”

  Tipping my goggle-covered eyes upward, I follow bare feet up to a pair of nylon pants, past a T-shirt, and into the remarkably handsome face of Rierson Perrault.

  Dunking under the water, I yank my goggles off over my head. Popping my head back out, I toss the tangled mess on the deck at his feet. “What are you doing here?” I’d only just started coming to this gym at Darin’s recommendation. It’s centrally located to the areas I’m looking to buy a home in and is a fantastic facility. Darin has been a member for years. Did he know that Ry was a member here too? No, there’s no way—I quickly disabuse myself of that notion. Sinking, I let the water’s motion pull me slightly back so I can meet his gaze head-on.

&nb
sp; “Waiting for you. And I’ll keep waiting if you want to cool down.”

  “That might take another fifteen years.” I reach for my goggles and untangle them before slipping them back into position. I start to push off into a slow breaststroke for the last 200 meters when I hear him say, “But at least I’d be around you trying.”

  Shit. Ducking my head beneath the water, I surround myself with the cool blue to calm my mind.

  And my racing heart.

  Chapter 11

  Kelsey

  After I push out of the water, I don’t look in Ry’s direction even though I see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting on the low bleachers. Once inside the women’s locker room, I shower off the chlorine and slip into a loose sundress. I’m still not used to the humidity living in the South again. Between my time in Southern California for college and then the time I spent living in Connecticut, I haven’t endured the persistent sweltering heat in longer than I can remember.

  Even in an air-conditioned room, it feels tangible on my skin as I swing my purse and workout bag over my shoulder. Opening the door to the locker room, I’m pulling out my keys so I can make a quick break for my car. Not looking where I’m going, I bump into someone. “Excuse me,” I offer politely before a warm hand slides up to clench at my waist.

  “No apologies necessary. I was deliberately trying to get in your way,” Ry tells me.

  I go to open my mouth to lambast him when his phone rings unexpectedly. “Do you mind holding on just a moment? It’s my sister, Lisa.”

  A sister? Vaguely, I remember Ry mentioning a baby sister years ago, but I can’t recall much about her. She was a few years behind us in school.

  “Hey, Lisa, what’s up?” My head snaps when his voice changes to aggravated. “No, I haven’t heard from Mom and Dad today. Did they try my cell? Well, why the hell not?” Agitatedly, he runs his fingers across the scruff of his beard. “Don’t tell me Dad tried to change the tire on his own.” A short pause. Ry spins away, pacing. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, that’s what they have AAA for!” He comes up short. “Wait, let me guess, he didn’t want to wait.”

  A giggle escapes me before I can stop it. Ry narrows his bright blue eyes on me. I slap a hand across my mouth and shake my head. “No, I’m still at the gym. I ran into Kelsey here. I was going to try to convince her to have a drink with me to explain what happened when we ran into her at Cafe Du Monde this morning, but apparently, my family is a bunch of crazy lunatics who I have to rein in from three states away.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he grumbles, “No, I’ll be home in a bit. Tell Mom to keep her cell nearby. Love you too.” Hanging up, he demands, “Do you need a more creative explanation of that, or did you get the highlights?”

  I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. The loving frustration on Ry’s face is priceless. “So, that really was your sister earlier? Not your wife?” I confirm, despite Angel’s reassurance. I want Ry to look me in the eyes when he answers.

  The emphatic shake of his head underscores his “No. I’m not that kind of man.” A slash of pain crosses his face. “Though I can understand why you might think I am.”

  A dark silence settles between us as we stand in the fading sunlight of the hallway between the locker rooms leading to the pool. Stepping back into my space, he reaches up and tucks a piece of hair that’s escaped my clip behind my ear. “Will you give me a chance to explain?” His voice is quiet, somber.

  I nod, albeit reluctantly. I’m not entirely sure I want to open my heart or my mind up to the past, but he has to be confused by what happened in Savannah, so I owe him my own explanation as well—specifically why I didn’t fess up to who I was a few nights ago. The small smile that curves his lips causes an ache inside my chest. I just refuse to acknowledge it. We stand there motionless until he finally breaks the spell.

  “There’s nothing more I’d like to do than to go with you somewhere right now and continue this conversation, but I have to go. Where’s your phone? Let me give you my number.”

  Pulling out my phone, I hand it to him. Ry quickly programs his number before dialing his own. I smile when his ringtone, a distinctive Dave Matthews song, hits the air. It makes my lips curve as it’s one of my favorites. Punching a few buttons, he saves the information. “Got it.” Shoving his phone in his back pocket, he grabs his gym bag from the floor. “I’ll call you soon.”

  “I look forward to it,” I tell him honestly. And I do. I want to clear the air between us as well once and for all. Until that moment at graduation, I’d considered him a friend, even if my feelings went well beyond that. Especially after that one moment where I felt something more. Something that set my heart to dreaming girlish dreams. And the residual effects of those dreams manifested themselves into something much more the other night in the hotel room.

  He nods and starts to walk away, leaving me there wondering how soon it will be until I hear from him. “Hey, Ry?” I call out.

  He stops and turns back. I lift both of my hands when I shrug. “I hope it ends up being nothing serious. With your dad. But I’m glad you have him around still.” Before he can respond, I turn and head in the opposite direction to where my car is parked.

  And back to Angel’s to tell her what just happened.

  * * *

  Four days have passed since I saw Ry at the pool.

  Like a lovesick girl, I keep checking my phone, hoping everything is okay with his family. I hope nothing serious has happened to him that required Ry to make a trip back to Savannah. Frustrated, unable to concentrate on writing, I storm out of the bedroom with my phone in my hand. “What the hell was the name of that shoe store Lisa mentioned?”

  “Uh-oh.” Angel exchanges a worried look with Darin.

  “Tell me now, or you know I’ll just wander the Quarter and find it anyway,” I warn.

  “Do I need to call a U-Haul?” Darin jokes.

  Angel elbows him in the stomach. “This is serious, Dare. Do I need to call Morgan and tell her I won’t be in to go with you?” Morgan is the center coordinator at Le Cadeau.

  All friends everywhere should be as amazing as Angel, I think to myself. Then again, she’d lie and I swear to it just to get us out of trouble of any kind, so her offer isn’t as much a surprise as a warm balm that soothes my aching—no, infuriated, damnit—heart. “Nope. I need time with me, shoes, and my credit card.”

  “Head Over Heels. On Royal.” When I raise my brow at her in mild surprise, she shrugs. “I knew you’d cave eventually. Now you don’t need to look the address up.”

  Walking over, I wrap my arms around her and hug. “Thanks for never letting me down,” I whisper.

  “Never will either. Now, go buy something sexy that I can only dream of wearing.”

  With a wink over her shoulder at Darin, whose expression says that everything Angel does is sexy, I murmur, “Will do,” before I let her go to grab my purse.

  If there’s ever a time a girl needs a new pair of shoes for absolutely no reason, it’s because she feels like she’s either been blown off or helpless. As much as I wish it were the second, I’m pretty damn sure it’s the first.

  To hell with Rierson Perrault. To hell with men. To hell with wanting to be a responsible adult, mortgages, deadlines, and shit. All a girl needs is wine and shoes.

  And maybe chocolate.

  Thinking back, I realize I can run through the Quarter before hitting up Head Over Heels. Then I can have all three at once.

  Perfect.

  Chapter 12

  Rierson—Three Days Earlier

  “What the hell do you mean they’re trying to back out of the deal?” I demand. This contract with Larruscain has taken months to sign. The revenue from the Barcelona-based imports company is going to be one of the highest non-ship building revenue generators for Bayou Enterprises for the next twenty years. And I shepherded that baby along since I started at Bayou years ago only to be blocked as we get down to the final contract signing. Which is supposed to happen later this mont
h.

  “I don’t know, Ry. Something about wanting to revisit the marketing permissions one final time before we put pen to ink,” Carol, one of the executive vice presidents in marketing, tells me agitatedly.

  “Find out what they’re looking for. You have…” I lift my wrist. “Three days. Otherwise, I’m going to ask Beau, Eli, and Van if they want to kill the deal.” And likely my job along with it, I think grimly.

  The same thought must pass through Carol’s head because she quickly shuts the top of her laptop and heads for the door.

  Jesus, between my father last night trying to change a tire on a two-ton vehicle, and now this? I snap up my phone and scroll through my recent calls.

  There it is, taunting me from when I used her phone to call mine. Missed Call: Kelsey Kennedy.

  I don’t want to say everything I have to say to her over text, but I need to say something. For far too long, there have been words left unspoken between us. I burnt a lot of bridges with what I did on graduation day. The only thing that’s even giving me a chance is the spark we set off when we’re with each other.

  Cupping my phone between both hands while I debate what to type, I wonder if the emotions between us were always there and I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I was a stupid kid of eighteen. I wanted nothing more than to escape the hell of Forsyth Academy.

  But even if she hadn’t turned into the knockout she is, I’d hope if we’d run into each other at the reunion, I’d have seen her for what she is.

  Fucking amazing.

  Just as I’m about to send her a message, Eli barges into my office. “Tell me what the hell is going on with Larruscain,” he demands.