Page 24 of Teach Me To Sin
I close my eyes and exhale slowly, fighting the disgust that rises to choke me every time this comes up. “My professional career under my dad was absolute hell. I watched my friend be abused, he forced me to cheat and dope, and when I begged him to let me quit, he hit and blackmailed me. I don’t blame myself…” That’s a lie, but I know it’s what I’m supposed to say. “The therapist I got after my dad’s trial called itconditioning. When I swim, bad things happen. She said I needed to get on top of it, or it would spiral out of control. I didn’t, and now getting in the pool gives me a panic attack.”
Benji frowns at me, like he’s trying to process, then glances around the building. “But you own a pool and spend all your time around pools.”
“Because some part of me still loves what swimming could have been, and it’s how I can make the world a better place. Which makes me sound like a pretentious twat.” I shrug. “Let’s get going.
There’s so much going on behind his eyes that I can’t grasp it all. Sadness, curiosity, something like guilt, even though that makes no sense. After a long moment, he reaches across and squeezes the toe of my sneaker, then slips away under the water with a flicker of his elusive body.
Alek
“That’s so kind ofyou. I really appreciate it.” Keeping my voice cheerful, I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my nose. “Understood. We’ll be there at eight on Friday. I can’t wait.”
As soon as I hang up, I grab the old takeout menu by my elbow and start scribbling notes in the margin. A few days ago, I asked the local news station if they would be interested in airing an interview with Benji and me about our new coaching program. Since I’m not important enough to call a press conference, this seemed like the most effective way to get the word out. The network gained countless viewers when they aired the scandal surrounding Victor and I, so they snapped up my interview offer in a heartbeat. Now that I have a date and time, it feels a bit like I’m walking toward a death sentence.
I jot down ideas and fragments of thought, considering how they would sound out of context as a quote or soundbite. My mind tries to anticipate every possible misconception, anything that could be twisted to say something I don’t mean. Within minutes, I have a pounding headache. Trying to stretch out the tension in my back, I drape my upper body over the desk with my arms flung out to either side.
When someone touches my shoulder, I jerk my head up and bang it against the edge of my desk lamp. “Shit.” Feeling my scalp for blood, I glare sleepily at Victor.
He catches my wrist and pries my hand off, prodding at the sore spot. “You’re fine. Stop having a meltdown.”
Our eyes lock, and we stare at each other without blinking for almost a minute. Finally, he cheats by reaching over and shoving my face sideways. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
Pushing my papers away, I shake my head. “I need to get to my class.”
Shaking curls out of his eyes, he huffs impatiently. “Your class ended forty-five minutes ago. I had to run it, so I undid everything you taught them and showed them how to do it better. You’re welcome.”
I grimace at the coppery taste on my tongue. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m officially doing an interview on Friday.”
He nods, but I can see the wall go up behind his eyes. He supports everything I do, including the coaching, but he can’t get too close to anything involving my father without relapsing into trauma behaviors. The wounds run far too deep. His bushy eyebrows furrow. “If you really need someone, man, I can be there. I’ll make it work.”
I straighten up with a groan, trying to fix my disastrous hair. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” My voice comes out like a raspy croak.
“You look like you’re dying.” Victor drags me to my feet and shunts me out of the office. “Take the evening off. Sleep or wank or something.” He starts to leave, then grabs the front of the t-shirt I designed for the Lang Aquatic Center’s fifth anniversary. “Hey. Take care of Alek for me. He’s a sensitive little soul.”
“Fuck you.” I can’t stop myself from smiling. For a moment, I consider asking if we can hang out tonight. I feel like I’ve been stripped naked and pushed to the edge of a cliff while the whole world watches. Spending hours alone doesn’t sound like a great idea. But in the end, I shrug him off and head out into the hazy evening.
I don’t want to go home, so I decide to pick up a drive-in burger and milkshake for dinner and take it south of Seattle, where I can park next to the Sound and watch the sunset. The state park is run down and dominated by an overflowing campground, but I find a quiet spot at the far end, next to a locked-up kayak rental. My hatchback is just big enough for me to open and sit in the cargo area without hitting my head, so I back into a beachfront spot and settle in to enjoy my greasy food.
When my phone rings, I almost ignore it. My food is getting cold, and my fingers are messy. But when I see Colson’s number on the screen, all my internal organs try to claw up into my throat in a mix of frustration, shame, and bewildered lust. Snagging a bite of salty French fry and trying to keep my voice casual, I answer the call. “Can I help you?”
No one says anything for a long moment. A chilly breeze off the water teases my ears, sharp with the smell of drying seaweed. “You didn’t hear, did you?”
My milkshake straw stops halfway to my mouth, and my grip on the phone tightens. “Hear what?”
Another pause, so long I want to shake him. “You should read the news occasionally. A victim who testified against your father's accomplices spoke up and changed his story, took back everything he said. I can almost guarantee nothing will come of it, but it suggests there’s someone out there trying to intimidate you. This is why–”
I hang up on him and sit perfectly still, my eyes fixed on the gold horizon that’s slowly fading to dark purple.
Six years is a long time not to see someone. I struggle to remember my father’s voice. My memory of his face only stays clear because I see my own in the mirror every day. The one thing I’ve never forgotten for a second was his smell. He chewed spearmint gum and wore a weird deodorant that reeked of spice and cloves. On top of it all, he slathered a medicinal-smelling lotion on the dry skin of his feet and elbows. Those scents would bleed together and mingle with his sweat into something uncanny and nauseating that haunted every room of our house, as well as the pool.
When I inhale the fresh ocean air, it’s like he’s sitting right next to me. That sickening musk crawls into my sinuses, throbbing in my head and slipping on my tongue. My hands are shaking as I press them to my knees and gulp in shallow breaths.
I have no idea if it’s possible for him to get out of prison. It shouldn’t be, but he knew a lot of men with almost infinite money and influence. If I had to live with the chance that he could wander into the swim center at any moment, I’m afraid of what I might do to myself. Victor told me I need to go back to therapy, but I can’t deal with another person asking me why I didn’t report the abuse sooner. I will never have an answer to that question, not for myself or anyone else.
My phone rings again, but I barely hear it. Feeling dizzy and nauseous, I get up and pace pointlessly around the car. As dusk deepens, ugly yellow light floods down from the crooked lamp posts lining the parking area. I stop and stare at my blurry reflection hovering in the car window, melting at the edges. I’m not okay; I need to call someone. But Maya is gone, this isn’t Benji’s burden, and Victor would take the news even worse than me. I’m alone, just like my father always told me I would be if I didn’t obey him.
Yet again, my phone rings, or maybe it never stopped. I snatch it out of my pocket without checking the screen. “What thefuck?”
“Why did you hang up on me?”