Augie picked up her pencil, remembering his order.
“And look”—he lowered his voice as he dipped his head to her—“I know we’re keeping our distance, but it’s good to see you. Even ifyou were never supposed to see me again.” He studied her, repeating her words from the night of the wedding. “So if this isn’t okay, I get it. I can grab stuff from the other station. It’s no worries.”
Augie ignored the warmth in her face as she took two wrapped bagels and cream cheese from a cooler.Be normal, she reminded herself, reaching for the waters.
“It’s all good. Is this everything? Do you need anything else?” Without thinking, she scribbled the Crawleys’ member number. Over the years, she’d accidentally memorized lots of member numbers—especially easy ones like theirs: 9119. It was basically an emergency.
Chat loosened and angled away from her, leaning against the table as he looked out at the pool. The sun bounced across the water’s surface, trapping wiggly rhombuses of light.
“So, are these meets a big deal? Olympic status or what?” As he faced away from her, Augie noticed he’d had a haircut since the wedding—the hair on the back of his neck was buzzed so short, it looked like black velvet. She had the sudden urge to touch it.
“I guess.” She scooted forward and folded her arms. He smelled the same as always and it was so intoxicating, she pulled back as if burned. “All very important. All very official. There’s even a podium at the end.”
“Man, it’s too much. The Crawleys’ calendar is so packed, I’m tiredforMax and Cooper. I swear I’ve never seen so many activities in my life: swim meets, karate, art camp. All I ever did was play hockey and sneak onto the golf course.”
“Gotta make sure they get into a good college.” As he turned back to her, Augie again thought of the boat, the taste of his mouth.What’s 112 times 3?
“Seriously. It’s crazy. Like that even matters, at the end of the day.I mean, for me, college was honestly kind of a waste of time. I should have at least taken the gap year I wanted. I shouldn’t have listened to my dad.”
Augie tapped her pencil on the table, pausing as she remembered the St. Cloud guys from the boat. Most were sophomores. “Aren’t you still in college?”
“Me? No, no, no way. I graduated this spring, thankfully. It was miserable. I did the last two years online... COVID, fun... and I also had to quit hockey. It’s kind of a long story.”
He seemed melancholy, and while Augie felt a little bad, she also felt defensive. She had loved college—pandemic and all. Switching to online classes had even allowed her to graduate a semester early. College was the last time she’d felt like a success.
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think you can say college is a waste of time. Although don’t get me wrong, I do agree these activities, the whole application process, pressure”—she gestured to the meet—“can be a bit much.”
Chat bobbed his head back and forth.
“Okay, but bear with me for a sec,” he finally said. “Because I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately: I just think it’s kind of crazy to act like college is the only path forward. My dad was so insane about it. He was always telling me to be realistic, that if I wanted to travel like I said I did, I had to be smart about it. Get a scholarship, play hockey, save money. Then go explore. Do this and this and this. But it’s not that simple. You can kill yourself trying to do the right things, and sometimes, it still doesn’t work out.” He pushed on his jaw with the back of his hand. “I know it seems dramatic. I guess I’m just frustrated. I tried to ‘be realistic,’ to use hockey as my ticket to Europe, the international leagues, but even though I was close, it didn’t go my way.”
His face fell.
“All I’m saying is I wish I’d gone off script earlier. That I hadn’t listened to anyone. But I’m going to travel now, so, that’s something.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Thank you for listening to my new life perspective,” he joked, leaning down. “It’s copyrighted.”
Augie tried to smile, but everything he was saying hit a nerve—and mostly because it made sense. She had done everything right, too.
“Okay, but what’s the alternative?” she heard herself say. “You skip college and bum around the world with no education? You have to follow at least some rules. Make at least some plans.” While she hadn’t intended to argue, she felt if she could just win this debate, nothing he was saying could be true.
“Maybe.” Chat looked amused. He stretched his fingers against the table, leaning down on them. “I don’t know. Who knows where I’d be if I’d done what I wanted from the start? I wouldn’t behere, that’s for sure.”
A lifeguard blew a whistle, a group of kids splashed into the pool, and Augie felt suddenly embarrassed by her surroundings—as if she were responsible for the “here.”
“Yeah, I guess. I just don’t think you can say college is a waste of time.” Her mouth was dry. “Even if things don’t go as you hope, even if you fail. It’s okay to make mistakes. You need a degree to get a job. And you need a job to make money, right? Trust me, I’m not saying you need country club, megamansion, Range Rover money. But still. There’s some reality to reality.”
Chat went quiet as he looked out to the parking lot. Augie felt desperate as she waited for him to say something, the pencil sweaty in her grip.
He paused. “I do kind of like driving the Range Rover.”
Relieved, she leaned back and used one hand to smooth her ponytail, her hair hot on her palm from the sun. “I prefer the 3 Series.”
“This is a weird world, I’ll give you that. People arerichrich. I’m still getting used to it. I guess it doesn’t faze you anymore.”
“I guess.”
“You’ve also probably gotten to know the members pretty well by now, too, huh? Have you been here a long time? You know the Greenes, Crawleys?” He paused. “Joshua Mike?”
Augie felt confused by his tone, which felt suddenly unnatural—but before she could respond, a trail of bees zoomed between them.
