“You ready?” Dean asks me.
“I think so.” I shed my shirt and shorts, swimsuit already on. I tie my hair up, and Dean removes his glasses, sealing them ina case, tossing them in my bag. We walk towards the water hand in hand.
I put a toe in, and it’s cold, but not bitterly so. I look at Dean, whose freckles are darkening by the second the longer we stand in the sun. His normally dark hair is beginning to show sun-bleached highlights. He gives me a tug, and we walk further into the water, up to our waists.
I know that in a minute, the water will swallow me whole, and I’ll bury my soul in the sand. But I know that I’ll emerge back up from the water, still hand in hand with Dean.
“Are you ready?” I ask him.
“I’m ready.”
“One, two, three!” We sink, way down underneath the surface, and stay down for as long as we can. When we come back, I’m laughing, sputtering for air.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” Dean babbles, his skin puckering with goosebumps. I splash him for good measure.
“I’ll see you out there!” I call, wading further into the water, closer to the center of the pond. I swim a few strokes, and soon enough, I’m in the center of the small lake. Floating on my back, I turn my face towards the sky.
Bobbing up and down, I feel the sun’s rays on my face. They feel so good, so welcomed compared to the cold sting of the water. Squinting, I look at cotton-ball fluffy clouds flying well above my head. I close my eyes and feel the water around me.
I picture the water that’s below me, the water that goes down hundreds of feet down, maybe even a mile. It’s a little murky from all the kicked-up sand, fish and boats, but I don’t mind. I know that I can just wash it all off later.
Life in northern Maine has been treating me well. The sale of my home in York Falls closed a few months ago, and I now rent a small ranch home in Allagash from an elderly woman who was moved into assisted living.
With the money from the sale of the house, I purchased my own vehicle—a blue Subaru Outback I affectionately call Lucy—so I didn’t have to depend on Dean to take me grocery shopping. I’ve picked a few more clients for my budding virtual assistant business, and Dean helped me get registered for an LLC., but I’m thinking about going back to school.
Even though Dean sometimes has weirdly timed shifts at the ER, we still make time to see each other often. Whether it’s breakfast at Two Rivers Restaurant or dinner at my house, or a movie in Fort Kent, he always makes time for me and there’s always something to talk about.
Dean. That man has me in a chokehold.
I’ve had the best sex of my life here. I’ve had the best time of my life here. I finally spot him rowing towards me, in a small wooden rowboat his grandfather built. “Hey, you,” I say, finally getting tired of treading water. “Are you a boat guy now?”
“I hate the outdoors,” He says. “Why did you make me come out here?”
“Because it’s good for you. The sun fixes everything.” I reply. “Now, help pull me up.”
He pulls me up into the boat, and I sit on the small wooden bench, shivering. Dean wraps me in a large beach towel.
“And no, I’m still not a boat guy. Still hate golf too.”
I grin at him.
By the time we reach the shore, I’m exhausted and ready for a shower. We pull the boat up and out of the water and carry it to the truck. Dean loads in the bed, and I hop in the front seat.
This time, Dean drives.
“Want to drive past the house on the hill?” He asks me. There’s a gorgeous white house on a hill on the outskirts of town on the way home. Every time we see it, we say if it goes on sale, we have to buy it. It looks perfect from the outside, with a largewildflower garden in the front, a small wooden porch and a red door.
Driving past, I lean my chin on the windowsill, letting the breeze blow through my damp hair. It’s still not for sale, but maybe one day. A few others have already arrived for the party when we get there, including some Aunts, Uncles and cousins of Dean and Sierra.
We greet them with a parade of hello’s and how-are-you’s and sorry-we’re-smelly-from-the-lake’s. Quickly, after a shower upstairs, I change into a yellow sundress in the guest room and then take my pills. I catch a glimpse of Dean through the crack in the door as I do my makeup, fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror. I smile to myself. I wish I’d known he’d been mine from the start.
He walks into the guest room and wraps me in a back hug.
“How’re you feeling?” He asks me. “You take your pills?”
“Yep, took them just now,” I say, rattling the bottles.
“Time to go downstairs?” He asks.
