I don’t let myself cry again until I see the cottage, and my sobs come in loud, painful gasps. I double over, not sure I can take another step. But then Nan opens the door and holds out her arms.
47
Monday, August 25
The Last Day at the Lake
I spend two days in a numb fog, wishing I never came to the lake, before I pull myself out of it. And then I block his number. I refuse to see him. There’s a full week left of August, but Nan and I are going home early.
I pack our things into the car and take one last look around the cottage. I say goodbye to the view, to the curtains and pillowcases and tablecloths Nan and I made this summer, to the jar of matchbooks and the shelf of Harlequins. I say goodbye to my bedroom. I leave the key in the outhouse. But I don’t say goodbye to Charlie.
I spend my first week in the city focused on creating a new routine. I find a darkroom to rent. I carve out time in my schedule to work on my own art. I pick a date to meet with Elyse to show her my new photos. And every morning, I swim.
Today begins the same way as the previous seven. Shower. Swim cap. Goggles. Climb onto the diving platform and slice through the water. Twenty laps. Thirty. I don’t stop, don’t slow, don’t think. I breathe and kick and count, a crystalline clarity smoothing the sharp angles of my pain. Forty. Fifty. I get to sixty faster than I did yesterday. But there’s no pleasure in it. Like every other day, I’m not even out of the water before reality crashes into me.
I’ve never borne this type of heartbreak. It’s both the loss of what I had with Charlie—our unlikely friendship and connection, the ease of being with him—and the loss of what could have been. I’ve done my best to cope, throwing myself into a new project, spending hours in my studio, and then retreating to the solace of my condo. I used to find calm in the cool polished concrete floors and clutter-free surfaces, the gleaming marble and spotless glass. But after being at the cottage with Nan and Charlie, it feels lonely. The sleek furniture Trevor picked seems even more alien. And despite the clamor of sirens and horns and garbage trucks outside, it’s too quiet.
I stand next to the pool, hands on my knees, bent at the waist, breathing heavily, fighting back tears.
“You’re okay,” I tell myself. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
I feel a hand on my back. “Do you need to sit?” A woman’s voice.
I’m making a scene. Amazing. “Yeah,” I say. “I think I overdid it.”
“Here. Let me help.”
The stranger puts an arm around my shoulders and a hand on my waist and guides me to the bench. I pull off my goggles and take a few more breaths with my head between my knees.
“Thanks,” I say, straightening. I find myself looking into thebig brown eyes of an extremely pregnant woman in an orange bathing suit. Her hair is twisted into a knot at the top of her head. “Percy?”
She blinks at me. “Oh my god, Alice. I didn’t recognize you. Are you here a lot? I started coming when I got pregnant. I was on the swim team when I was a kid, and Sam thought it might be a good way for me to cool off and move a little, even if I’d rather be sleeping in on a Saturday morning.” She lowers her voice. “Are you all right?”
I feel the tears welling again as I remember Charlie saying how much Percy talked. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I lie. “Thanks for giving me a hand.”
“I heard about what happened with Charlie. At least, I heard a brief version from Sam that involved some choice profanities. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. The last thing I want is for her to feel bad for me.
“I can tell it isn’t fine. Don’t forget, I saw you two together.” Percy chooses her next words carefully. “This year has been hard for Charlie, worse than any of us could have anticipated.”
“You mean because of his dad?”
“That’s part of it. I know Sam isn’t looking forward to his thirty-fifth birthday, either. But there are other things you don’t know,” she says quietly. “Sam and I have tried to get Charlie to be more open about it. I think he…well, it doesn’t matter what I think. Just please have some patience. I’ll keep working on him.”
“Don’t bother,” I tell her, sounding stronger than I feel. I grab my goggles off the bench and stand. “It was nice to see you. Enjoy your swim.”
“Alice,” Percy calls when I’m almost at the changing room. She walks toward me slowly, a hand on her stomach. “Iunderstand if you don’t want to talk to Charlie, but could we stay in touch? We could come for a swim, get something to eat after?”
I frown at her. “Why?”
She laughs. “Because I like you. Do I need a better excuse?”
For some inexplicable reason, the back of my nose stings. I shake my head.
Percy smiles, big and broad, the kind of smile that warms you right through. “Good. Next Saturday? I’ll text you.”
I sit in the quiet of my condo with a peppermint tea, blinds closed to the September sun. I’m shaken by what Percy said this morning. It takes everything I have not to call Charlie and ask him about it. But I plan to hold on to my last sliver of dignity. I told him what I wanted, and he rejected me. I let him see me, the real me, not some kind of constructed, unblemished version. I showed him who I was, and it wasn’t enough.
