“What’s wrong?” Worry and confusion flicker in his gaze as they sweep over me.
My chest clenches, but I push past the discomfort at his expression. “I’m not dead and I’m not going to kill myself. So, for the love of God, stop acting like I am. Stop following me. Stop looking at me. Just fucking stop. Because before the cliff, you didn’t know who I was, even though I knew who you were.”
I was going to pretend like our past interaction didn’t happen, but it did. He was the one who drove me to my house when Bryson was too drunk to do so.
“Josie, I?—”
“You’re free from obligation. You can stop pretending like you care.”
I leave it at that and stalk off.
He obviously pities me. Why else would he be this persistent?
I think I’ve read the first sentence in the email Monica sent me like twenty times. Every time I restart, my mind wanders to Daniel.
After I walked away, he showed up to class a few minutes later after I did. He didn’t talk to me, and I didn’t care to attempt to make conversation with him. Though we really couldn’t because Professor Carleson spoke the entire time. And Daniel ended up leaving forty-five minutes early too.
Twirling the ring on my middle finger, I shake the memory of him away and attempt to read the email again. But the moment I reach the second word, my laptop dings, announcing I’ve got a new email.
I blink a few times, dumbfounded at the name that appears on the top right corner for a few seconds before it disappears. I find it hard to believe until I go back to my inbox and see an email from Daniel Garcia, but it’s the subject line that severely throws me off.
Swimming Lessons
I stare at it for a long beat, my vision blurring in the process until I blink to clear it. Tentatively, I click on it and don’t feel any less shocked when I read his email.
——————————————————————
From:Daniel Garcia
To:Josefine Resendiz
Subject:Swimming Lessons
Date:Monday, January 13 11:11 PM
——————————————————————
Don’t laugh but I don’t know how to swim. I hear you’re the person who makes it possible. How’d you like to make that possible for me?
I’m so happy you’re here, Josefine! And I mean that.
10
DANIEL
“Ball!”Coach Lewis, the assistant for hitting, infielders, and catchers, shouts from home base as he tosses the ball up in the air and swings the bat, striking it hard in my direction.
Staying low to the ground, I quickly shift on my feet, watching the speed and direction of the ball. Once I get in front of it, I turn my glove over, sweeping it forward and catching it backhanded. Then I rapidly shift on my feet, aligning them, and throw it to the pitching net on the first base.
I catch my breath, easing from my position when he waves his hand, signaling that practice is over.
During the offseason, practice is brutal. We’re on the field six to seven hours a day, in the batting cages for an hour to an hour and a half, weightlifting to build mass, then on the weekends we have scrimmage.
It’s exhausting, but I welcome being busy. It helps me from staying in my head, especially now more than ever.
I can’t stop thinking about Josie and the hurt look on her face. Her eyes glazed with sadness, and became distant and heavy.
Because before the cliff, you didn’t know who I was, even though I knew who you were.
