Page 110 of Diving In
I take the pages and flick through them. It really is meticulously planned, and he’s colour-coded it just how I used to. Sam’s done everything for this holiday, and when I see how much effort he’s put in, something shifts in my chest.
“What are you looking forward to the most?” he asks, watching my face carefully.
“All of it. Maybe the beaches? We can do a side-by-side comparison of Devon and the California coast. Ooh and seeing Austin and Seb again will be amazing.” I pause.
"Yeah, that will be fun." Sam grins over at me.
I look at the itinerary again. It isn’t just this, it’s everything else he’s done for the last few months too. The times he’s listened to me talk about work all evening, the times he’s come to collect me when a shift’s run late, the way he’s always checking in on me. I blink hard and take another sip of my drink. These are thoughts foranother day.
***
Just over a week later, we’re sitting eating lunch on a coastal path. I feel amazing. When I looked in the mirror this morning my freckles were back in force, looking like they used to do after long summers in Sidmouth. And just like all those years ago we’ve been doing long walks, admiring the scenery and constantly taking pictures. Along the way we’ve met all sorts of people, and striking up conversations with strangers has started to feel fun again rather than scary.
“Can I ask you something?” Sam looks oddly nervous, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
“Sure,” I reply, tucking into my biscuit. The grass is warm beneath me, and I loosen the zip on my jumper.
“Will you come swimming with me tomorrow?”
I go still for a moment. He wants to go swimming? For the last few months I’ve been wondering if, nowhen, he’d want to go swimming again. I know him, and I saw that over the last few weeks something had shifted inside him. But I wasn’t sure whether it would be enough, or whether he’d want to talk about it. I’m so glad he knows he can have these conversations with me. Hearing him say it out loud feels like its own kind of victory, proving that he’s learnt not to bottle everything up.
Our hotel has a pool in it. It’s tiny. But still. It’s a pool. I looked at it yesterday evening when we arrived, and it’s been in the back of my mind ever since. I know he spotted it too.
“Of course.” I smile softly. “What’s brought this on?”
“I miss it,” he tells me. “It’s taken me a bit of time to realise that. But I did really love it. I think by the end I was really struggling to disentangle swimming from my anxiety. So instead of enjoying it, I started to resent it. But I think I’m ready to try again now.”
I put my biscuit down and reach over to squeeze his hand. He squeezes mine back.
“If you like, we can go really early when less people are around,” I offer.
“Thank you.” The smile he gives me is wide, eyes crinkling at the edges.
“And if at any point you don’t want to swim, just tell me and we can stop.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
He smiles at me, blue eyes bright. “Truly thank you, Kath. You have no idea how much I appreciate your support. It means… well it means everything to me.”
The excited look on his face fills me with a quiet kind of happiness.
Chapter 49
Twenty-six years old
Sam
The next morning, we walk down to the pool at 6:30 a.m. I inhale that chlorine smell I haven’t been around for months, and watch the light flickering, reflected off the water. Realistically, this pool is miniscule compared to the usual 50m ones, but in my mind, it suddenly feels massive. I’m grateful Kath suggested an early start; no one else is here.
I love the water, I know I do. But a voice at the back of my head is telling me that this is the cause of all my problems, and that I haven’t done enough work on myself, so being in the water will trigger another panic attack.
“Want to do lengths?” Kath asks, pulling me from the spiral. “Or bob around?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her. Peeling off my clothes, I leave them on a chair and make my way to the edge of the pool.
“You get in,” she tells me as she starts folding her shirt on another chair. “I’ll just be a minute.”
