“Yeah. I know.” He pulls my phone out of his pocket before he holds it out to me as he drops to sit beside me.
“There’s a reason I left it back at the apartment,” I grumble but still grab it so I can power it off.
“You don’t even want to talk to me?” He playfully nudges his shoulder into mine as he flashes me a mischievous grin.
“Especially you,” I tease back but there’s no humor. My best friend has been trying to pull me out of my slump for the last month since the accident. It started out as sadness, but I feel worse now. Hopeless and empty. And there’s nothing he can do. Everything just feels pointless. All of it.
“So, ready to dive back in yet? The doctor gave you the all clear for light workouts, right?” He motions to the pool, and he makes a breaststroke motion. “Best form of therapy.”
Yep. The doctor told me a few days ago at my checkup said I’m healing great and don’t have to wear the sling anymore. Then yesterday, the physical therapist said I could start light workouts. And at the top of the list—swimming. But it doesn’t feel right. Nothing does anymore. “I don’t want to swim.”
“Not even floating? Doggie paddle?” he teases. When I don’t respond, he pulls his T-shirt over his head. “Coach is holding your spot, but you can’t let too much time go before you get back to training.”
Everett is as stubborn as I am, especially with his cheer-up-Ivy mission. So, I go with the easiest excuse. “My arm is sore.”
He gives me a side-eye once-over. “Is it really?”
“Yes.” It is. But not much. The dull ache in my side isn’t too bad, but it’s there. Though, I’ve practiced with and evencompeted through more painful injuries before. But I wanted it then. I had the determination to push through it. Now, I don’t see the purpose.
Everett reaches up, his hand slightly massaging my shoulder. “Are you sure it’s not just in your head?”
Absolutely. “Why would my mind be fucked up about the activity my mom was driving me to when she died?” I say bluntly. Before I’d struggle to not cry, now I want to be angry instead of numb. Even if I’m just mad at myself. But I’m having a hard time with that too. What does it change? Nothing. She’s still dead.
“That’s not what I meant.” He pulls me to him, giving me a quick kiss on my forehead. “Jump in with me. I promise I’ll take it easy on you.”
In the distance, a sharp crash echoes as both Everett and I glance behind us towards the sound. “What the hell was that?”
A staff member might’ve lingered around past closing, but we are the ones who are not supposed to be here, though I couldn’t care less if I get caught. I wasn’t planning on pulling Everett in on the after-hours venture even if he did show up on his own free will.
“You should go before you get caught.”
“No.Weshould go beforeweget caught.” Everett stands, pulls his T-shirt on, then offers his hand to help me up.
Since I know he won’t let up or leave without me, I accept his hand and follow him towards the lobby. When we get to the entrance, I spot one of the display cases filled with trophies has splinters throughout the glass. Everett spots the same and says, “Guess we know what the noise was.” He glances around. “Maybe it was pressure or temp change. It is pretty thick glass.”
“Sure.” I agree because if that’s not the case then someone else is lurking nearby.
As we step out the door, he glances around. “How did you get here? And don’t tell me you walked here.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“Ivy. It’s like five miles from the apartment.”
“I needed to clear my head.” And maybe I wanted to not be found, figuring if the car wasn’t sitting outside the rec, no one would know I was there.
“If you don’t want to drive, just call me and I’ll give you a ride. I get it if you’re scared to get behind the wheel.”
I should be scared, right? Except I’m not. Driving did seem strange for a brief time after the accident. But I’m not afraid to be in the car. The complete opposite is true in fact, not that I can admit that part to my best friend. How do I tell him that I wonder if Mom was the lucky one because she’s not still here and miserable? And maybe wherever she is, I’ll end up there too. “It’s not that. Like I said, I just needed to clear my head.”
Obviously, it didn’t work. Once I’m in the passenger seat, I rest my hand on my lap and dig my nail into my scar. The pain is only slight as I watch the night landscape pass by outside the window as Everett tells me about his plans for tomorrow.
Would I end up with my mom again? I don’t even need to stay there eternally. I just need to tell her I’m sorry for what I said. And tell her I love her, so the last thing she hears is how much I love her and not the horrible words I’ll regret for the rest of my life.
5
LUCA
My fist slams into the punching bag, then I follow it with a left hook. Bouncing on my heels, I pound against the target until my knuckles sting.
