Page 65 of Teach Me To Sin
Colson and I agreed in advance that he would go, because I’d hate having to chat with nurses or make the case for switching to a waterproof cast. It’s a relief to have someone else fill in the gaps of what I can give Benji. Without question, Colson’s the boy’s safe place and protector in a way I don’t have the ability or desire to be. When it’s time for them to leave, I wake up to Benji nuzzling my fingers and Colson trying to herd him out the door. Our eyes catch over Benji’s head, and he shakes his head with a wry smile that settles comfortably in my chest.
After they disappear, the good feelings linger in the room and I fall back asleep for an hour. I sit up and stretch, feeling more refreshed than I have in months. The crushing ache still exists, but today I have the energy to look it in the face.
Sliding into my sneakers, I grab a bag of the treats Colson promised would make the dogs behave no matter what. “Come on, guys.” With them bounding in front of me and a fresh breeze tugging at my hair, I walk through the trees and over a hill to the beach. My world in Seattle has gotten so small, nothing more than an office, three pools, and a one-bedroom condo. The vast size of the sea and sand soothes me, like I can find space to breathe and feel things again.
When the dogs finally get tired of chasing sticks and playing tag with the edge of the surf, I call them back and we head home. The sight of Colson’s car in the driveway sends a sweet trickle of joy through me, like warm honey.
I push open the back door to find Colson unloading paper bags of food appropriate for three men who can’t cook–jars of premade soup, frozen vegetables, a loaf of French bread–while Benji sits on a bar stool and studies a stack of pamphlets. A blue camo ball cap they must have picked up at the store shields his eyes, replacing the sunglasses that were driving him crazy. They still look faintly red, but they’re not squinty or watery anymore.
“Welcome back.” I fill up the dogs’ metal travel bowl and set it down, watching them fling droplets everywhere as they slurp loudly.
“I don’t know what he’s doing.” Benji waves a dismissive hand at Colson’s groceries, then pushes a fan of takeout menus across the counter. “I found all this good stuff at the store–pizza, ramen, burgers. Cole doesn’t seem to get that you just call this number and they magically bring it to you. He thinks we have to forage like medieval peasants.”
“I’mtrying,” Colson grunts, straightening up from the fridge, “to address the fact–and god help me because I sound as naggy as Gray–that three grown men cannot eat takeout for the rest of their lives.” When he processes the last six words out of his mouth, he frowns awkwardly and turns back to his chore.
I glance down at Benji; he’s stopped drooling over photos of pizza and is sitting very still, watching Colson’s back. Instinctively, I rest a hand on his shoulder. I don’t know if I’m warning him not to hold on to an accidental promise, or trying to control the feelings growing relentlessly in my own chest. We all want this to work, but it’s more complicated than just wishing it were so.
Benji tilts his head, rubbing his cheek against my hand, then glances up at me with the stunning green irises I’ve missed seeing the past few days. He holds up his broken arm as best he can; the cast is neon pink now instead of medical blue. “Pool time, let’s go.”
Some part of me has been aware of the pool every minute since we arrived. It sits there like a reminder of what I’ve lost, of lies and ruin, and of the father who made me feel like I have to choose between training Benji or being in a relationship with him. “Later maybe?”
“Okay.” He tries to sound agreeable, but his shoulders droop.
Colson clears his throat, shooting me a meaningful look over his head. “He begged for thirty minutes straight for that cast. I believe he told the nurse that he had a little sister who needed him to teach her how to swim, or else she’d never get the sports extracurriculars she needs to attend an Ivy League school and achieve her dream of becoming a dolphin researcher.”
“Oh my god.” I grab the top of Benji’s head and force his face toward mine. “You didn’t, did you? I should have come after all. You two are an embarrassment.”
He tries to hold my stare deadpan, but dissolves into a coughing laugh. “She didn’t fucking give it to me because she believed me, you weirdo. She did it because she thought I was funny.” His words trail off into more hacking, while he rests his forehead against my side.
Colson nods toward a small cardboard box on the end of the counter. “They gave him an inhaler to use. But his lung function is looking better.”
“Fine,” I sigh, rubbing his back as he tries to catch his breath. “Pool time it is.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” Colson offers as Benji catches my fingers and drags me toward the door.
Outside, Benji sits on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water as I help him take off his t-shirt. “What about your burn?”
“They said it’s healing up and should be fine in pool water if I’m gentle.”
He bounces his heels impatiently against the pool wall, waiting for me to peel off the dressings and drop them in a pile on the deck. As I brush my finger along the constellation of freckles dotting his narrow shoulders, I realize he’s mentally stuck.
“Need help getting in?” Fumbling, I get my hands under his armpits and help him slip off the edge. When I let go, he grabs instinctively for the wall with his broken arm, yelps in pain when it bangs the tile, and starts to sink before he flounders back up and catches the wall with his shaky, unhurt hand. He manages to stop coughing before I go find the inhaler, but his knuckles are white where he’s gripping the lip of the pool
“How do I swim with a cast, coach?” he jokes uneasily, eyeing the middle of the pool.
I want to point out that he should have thought of this already, but there’s a fearful edge in his voice that keeps my mouth shut. “You’ve got three working limbs,” I offer instead. “You’ve got this. Just paddle gently and use your legs.”
Sitting back in one of the deck chairs, I watch him bob along the perimeter of the pool while he tests different techniques and uses the wall when he needs a break. Since phones are no longer banned, I pull mine out and start typing a message to Tate.Have there been any–
Benji splashes, and I glance up to see him venturing toward the center of the pool, muttering irritably. “This really shouldn’t be so fucking hard. I thought that–”
–any developments from the police?As I consider asking about Victor, some part of my brain becomes aware that Benji never finished his sentence. When I look for him, he’s just treading water in the middle, but erratically, so low he has to crane his neck to keep his face above the surface. I’ve been supervising pools full of people every day for six years, and I take annual lifeguard training. I know the facts–a strong swimmer can still drown in seconds, and drowning never looks how you’d expect.
I don’t realize what I’m doing until the silky, cool water hits my skin for the first time in so many years. Whenever I imagined this moment, I thought it would be life-changing–every atom of my body would react and I’d be remade into all the things I lost. In reality, water goes up my nose and I realize that even though my limbs remember the movements, I’ve lost most of my power and flexibility.
I come at Benji from underneath and behind, where he’s least likely to grab me in a panic. He’s smart enough to stop floundering as soon as my arm circles his waist, but I can feel his heart pounding through his back. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.” I press my forehead into the back of his neck, and he whimpers my name. “It’s just water, okay?”
The churning of my legs makes tiny waves that lap around my shoulders, like kisses from a long lost friend. I tighten my grip and close my eyes as his body calms. The very last time I swam was some shitty meet in Nebraska. I had spent months working with Victor and Gray on a plan for using my video evidence against my father, and I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown from trying to act normal. I came in sixth in my event, which was beyond disgraceful, and when my father started screaming at me, I snapped. I threw my goggles in his face and told him I would never swim for him again. He just laughed and said the day I stopped dragging down his team would be the best day of his life.