Page 81 of Diving In
Itwasthe right thing to do. I know it was. She deserves more than I can give her, and if fighting with her was the only way for her to realise that then so be it. I just have to keep reminding myself of that. Especially on the days when it feels hard. Days like today, when I just wish I had my friend.
I rub my eyes and force myself to read the same paragraph of my textbook again, but the words slide off my brain. Suddenly all I can picture is her. Kath in our hotel room, packing her suitcase with shaking hands. Kath telling me she loved me, and the way I was desperate to say it back. Kath leaving the room, and the way I had to forcibly stop myself from following her.
I deserve her not replying. I just wish she would talk to me.
I read the paragraph again.
And again.
And again.
But it doesn’t help.
My phone buzzes and my traitorous heart leaps, stupidly hopeful, but it’s just a reminder for practice.
That’s what I wanted. Swimming. No distractions.
Right?
I flip the phone back over.
Ten minutes later I give up on my essay and get ready for practice.
Austin’s in the kitchen filling his water bottle when I get downstairs. He frowns at me. “You look tired.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, heading to the cupboard to grab some protein bars.
Austin screws the lid on his water bottle. “Have you spoken to Kath?”
“No.”
“… Are you going to?”
“No.”
He hesitates. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little.”
Austin nods quietly and follows me out.
My friends here don’t know why today is so hard for me. In fairness I haven’t really been myself since we got back from Rio, so they probably can’t even tell anything’s different.
Kath always used to do something for me on this date. Even when I moved away she’d always call, or make sure we had a movie to watch separately and then discuss later together. Not this year though.
The Florida weather is mocking my mood. It’s beautiful, sunlight bouncing off palm trees and green grass, a warm wind brushing my skin. Austin keeps pace beside me as we walk to the aquatic centre, the white building looming against the skyline. I open the door and the comfort of the chlorine-scented air reminds me that I made the right choice.
But then I remember that today’s practice is breaststroke. My weakest stroke. The one that’s keeping me fromgetting that record.
When we leave the aquatics centre two hours later my mood still hasn’t improved. In fact it’s worse, which I wouldn’t have believed possible. I was dismal today. Every stroke felt like a struggle. I take a sip from my water bottle and try to reset. I wish I could talk to my mum about this. She always had such a good perspective. Even if she didn’t really understand some of the intricacies of technique she was great at finding ways to encourage me.
I wonder if Kath would pick up if I called?
When Austin and I get back to the house, AJ’s there, sprawled on the sofa finishing a film. He glances over when the front door shuts.
“Well, look who survived breaststroke day.” He stretches like he’s been the one doing laps. “You two look like extras fromThe Walking Dead.”
Austin groans. “Don’t even start.”
