I drained what whiskey had made it into the glass. Then I dropped it with a splash onto my reflection. I watched the crystal tumbler sink straight down to the bottom, my ugly face in ripples around it. Then I lay down on the diving board, the scratch of the board rough under my head and heels. Overhead, the sky was tumultuous. Clouds had crowded in fast; they hung dark and bulbous. Somewhere in the distance, a low rumble sounded.
I thought of Winona’s face, that perfect, pointed chin. Those slate blue eyes I sensed had seen terrible things. That looked so angry but so soft, like she cared and hated herself for it.
I thought of her voice.Ya got me drove.
“Winona,” I whispered, just for the feel of her name, like the last good thing I could taste.
Then I rolled over.
I was heavier now than when I first moved here. A beast, my brothers would say. My body made a satisfying splash when I hit the water.
It was cold, shocking me into alertness. The press of liquid against my skin felt like a balm. So did the outer space-like silence in my ears. I let myself float for a minute, enjoying the stretch of air in my lungs, moving from tension to pain. When I was a kid, we spent summer in the San Juan Islands, and I used to like to float like this in the ocean, face down, my limbs limp, letting the waves knock me around.
But this wasn’t the ocean. This was my pool, and it was only when I felt the splash of someone else dropping in the water that I remembered doing this once with Conrad. He’d freaked out, hauling me out of the sea, thinking I’d drowned.
But the hands on my chest weren’t my brother’s. They were small and ineffective against my weight. I opened my eyes to see blue ones in front of me, a mouth with air bubbling out, and a muffled scream.
She’d stayed.
Winona’s hair had come out of its knot. It flowed around her like a mermaid’s.
Beautiful,I thought. Or said into the water—I wasn’t sure.
Then she shoved at me, her face screwing up. I was too heavy. She faltered, sinking herself. That was what finally knocked me out of my stupor—the thought that she might be in danger. I came back to life, grasping the front of her shirt and pulling her toward me.
We emerged from the water together, both of us gasping for air.
She only got half a breath in before she used it to shout at me, smacking my shoulders with her tiny fists as she tried to stay afloat. “What the fuck is the matter with you, b’y!?” She couldn’t touch here, but I could, right where the floor of the pool sloped up to the wall. I gripped her ribs and lifted her. She was solid, heavy with her strong core. But I was stronger.
I plopped her easily up on the edge, my eyes on hers to make sure she was okay. She looked shocked, like a wet cat, her hair pressed to her cheeks.
I dropped back below the surface.
“Mitchell!”
She was screaming my name up there again. But I was only gathering my thoughts this time.
She’d stayed, and she’d tried to save me.
When I popped my head out of the water, I found her on her stomach, reaching for me.
But she gasped as I swam forward, stopping only when my face was within inches of hers. She scrambled to her hands and knees, backing up to give me room.
I rested my elbows on the pool deck, flicking my wet hair out of my face. I felt good. The booze seemed to have lost some of itseffect, too.
I set my chin on my forearms. “You tried to save me, Firecracker.”
The shock on her face vanished, replaced with anger. And… fear. “What the fuck were you thinking?” She smacked the deck with her palm, water splashing. Then she sat back on her knees, pressing her palm to her forehead. “Firecracker?What the bejeezus does that mean?”
But my eyes were on her mouth. Fuck, those lips. They were pink and pursed, and I wanted badly to run my thumb along them, to relax them into pliability. I wanted her to tell me everything she dreamed of. Everything she feared. Why did she care what happened to me, a fucking nobody, when you took away the material things?
I’d been lying to myself about why I wanted her here. That realization sobered the last bit of me still drunk.
I wanted her to be my muse. But I also wanted her for myself.
While I was grappling with this, Winona stood up. “I cannot believe I’m still here. I amdone.You can hire someone else to fix your shit.” She didn’t specify which shit exactly that was. Then she spun on her heel, her bare feet slapping across the deck as she stormed away.
My chest clenched. How could I have been okay with her leaving before? It felt like death now.
