Logan jumps up, bending over to kiss the top of my head. “I’ll get those going and reheat the eggs and sausages.”
For the rest of the night, we eat breakfast and watchGhost. I let worries about the future slip away, along with any happy visions about what a life would look like with Logan.
I’m living it now, presently.
And right now, this is the moment that matters most.
Chapter 28
HAZEL
I’m not religious, but the moment the scent of chlorine greets me at the entrance of the YMCA is a nearly spiritual experience. I make my way across the tiled floor, the flipping of my sandals matching the beating of my heart. I adjust my swimsuit strap as I approach the pool’s edge, water splashing up over my toes.
I stare down the turquoise lane. My muscles twitch in eager anticipation underneath prickling skin, already preparing itself for the cool water.
I let my eyes fall closed for just a few seconds. I catalog the symphony of noises around me: splashes from the swimmer in the next lane over, voices traveling across the surface of the pool, a high-pitched whistle from the lifeguard settling in for duty.
The water, in all its sparkling glory, moves with the other swimmers’ movements. It mirrors everything above it, including the overhead lights, the triangle flags, and the lifeguard’s tall chair.
And me.
I blink, trying to focus on my rippling reflection. For the length of a breath, the water stills, and I can see myself clearly.
“There you are,” I whisper.
I feel a smile take over my face as I jump in. The water’s cold. Shocking. Glorious. I let myself sink down, my body tingling assmall air bubbles roll off my skin and rise to the surface. I push off the black strip lining the bottom, blasting up toward the light.
When I pierce the surface, my arms shoot out in front of me, pulling the water back. I breaststroke down the lane. My muscles and lungs burn. For the next thirty minutes, it’s just me and the water.
And it’s right there in the Chinatown YMCA pool that I come back to myself. That I learn how to breathe again.
Chapter 29
LOGAN
The first night of the show is a mess.
The rowboat wheels get jammed, the blocking on the lodge’s lobby set is off, and two actors forget their lines. One even drops a plate of fake fruit, plastic apples and pears rolling into the audience. The fan we use to blow the scent of campfire out into the audience decides its last day of work was yesterday.
The audience has no idea any of it isn’t supposed to happen.
Good things happen, too, though. The dock’s legs stay put, and the sparklers work when they should. Nothing catches on fire.
Mr. Moon makes his appearance just before intermission. As the show’s leads sing from the rooftop, he’s lowered from the rafters. Moon problem, solved.
From the wings, I peek out to the audience and immediately spot a laughing Hazel, who’s hard to miss in her floral Hawaiian shirt. She had no idea about Mr. Moon’s cameo. She points him out to Emma and Gloria, her two friends she brought with her. Probably she’s telling them how I almost made her smash him to pieces.
The second half of the show isn’t any better, but by the time the curtain closes, there’s a buzzy energy going around in the front of house and backstage.
“Well, that was… not great,” I’m the first to say once the show has ended. It wasn’t even close.
“Yes, but our show is officially live,” Mrs. Walker says. “Roman would’ve loved every second of it.”
Richie pats my back. “You’re still here, Mr. Big Bucks? I would’ve quit yesterday.”
News ended up spreading across the city—and the theater. Truthfully, I consider myself lucky that this information didn’t change the way my coworkers treat me.
“Then who’d beat you next year in Fantasy Soccer?” I ask.
