Phantom Limbs (21 page)

“Hey. It’s okay to like Abby.” I slowed to get into the 294 turn lane.

“You don’t know my dad.”

“Fuck your dad.”

“Yeah, right.”

“He’s an idiot. Lesbians are, like, the greatest idea ever. Ask any guy.”

“I’m not a lesbian.” She sighed. “I’m not an anything.”

“Okay, you’re not an anything.”

“Hey,” she said softly, reaching over and tugging on my sleeve. “Thanks. For always being there for me.”

I glanced at her bruised and bandaged head and thought,
Not always.

“How’s your stupid job?” she asked, putting her feet up on the dashboard. Her toenails were painted a teal green.

“I like it, mostly.”

“Kids. Blech. That’d drive me nuts.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You can’t keep missing doubles, you know. If you have to work in the afternoon, then swim in the evening. Senior Champs is coming up.”

I didn’t respond.

We arrived at the pool and got out of the car. It was clear that a brutally hot day was in store — not a cloud in the sky, and no shade to be found other than the umbrellas already claimed by swim teams. The sun was fierce, the thermometer already soaring. I felt sorry for Dara that she couldn’t swim. At least the rest of us could cool off.

When I finished warming up and got out of the pool, I spotted Abby and Dara, sitting side by side on a towel, Abby in her suit and Dara in shorts and her team T-shirt. It was clear Abby liked her — I could see it on her face, in her smile, in the way she leaned close when they spoke.
Like her back, Dara, dammit!
I wanted her to be happy, no matter how mad she sometimes made me. If she were happier, maybe she wouldn’t be such a bitch. And if she and Abby were together, I would no longer be “all she had.”

“So.” Shafer stood next to me, eating green grapes out of a plastic container. “What’s going on with Meg?”

“What? Nothing. Do my arms.” I turned my back to him.

“She hasn’t come around the pool this whole week,” he said, putting down the grapes and stretching my arms. “And you ditched her the night of Dara’s party. You fighting or something?”

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t
ditch
her. It was more like she sent me home. But Shafer was the last person on Earth I’d confide in.

“You guys were childhood sweethearts, huh? That’s what she said.”

“Something like that,” I muttered, pulling away.

He picked up his grapes and popped one in his mouth. “Well, I don’t know why you’re not trying to get her back. If I were you, I sure would be. I mean, yeah, she has a boyfriend. But how can you not have feelings for her?”

I did not dignify that with a response. I certainly wasn’t about to discuss the breadth and depth of my feelings for Meg with Shafer.

He and I were both swimming the fifty free, although he was in the last heat and I was a few heats before him. As I went to line up at the blocks, a girl’s voice yelled, “Go, Otis!” I turned. It was Kiera. She smiled and waved. It occurred to me that she was really nice. And pretty. And didn’t have a boyfriend. And was unambiguously into me. She wasn’t Meg, but only Meg was Meg — and Meg had a boyfriend. A boyfriend whose grandmother taught her how to cook. A boyfriend who was flying out to spend a long weekend with her, even though she was due to return home — to him, in California — the next fucking day.

When I got up on the block, I was kind of psyched. My training had taken a bit of a hit lately, but that could be good — sort of a fake taper. I wasn’t as sore as usual. I meant to take full advantage of it. I swung my arms and adjusted my goggles, waiting for the start.

At the buzzer I got off a solid dive, and I swam like it was a matter of life and death, like Dara said. I kept myself to two breaths for the whole race, and I hoped Dara was watching — I’d never done a fifty on two breaths. I always ended up taking a last breath too close to the end of the race, which made Dara nuts.

I touched in and came up, turning to look at the clock. The first thing I processed was that I’d taken first in my heat — handily, too, which was exciting because my seed time had placed me fifth of eight. I pulled my goggles off and did a double take at the clock. Personal best by two-tenths.

When I climbed out, Kiera was cheering for me from the sidelines — I recognized her “Woo-HOOOO!” Coach Brian came up to me, throwing his arms up in a
what the hell was THAT
look. Behind him, Dara was hurrying toward me. I probably had seen more smiles from her in that single morning than in the three years I’d known her combined.

She took a running leap and jumped on me, almost knocking me over. “Fuckin’ A, Mueller!”

She was embarrassing me, but I couldn’t help smiling.

“Ow, fuck,” she said, wincing. “I think I just refractured my ribs.” And then she leaned back and grinned at me. “Two breaths? You see? See what you can do?”

And that’s when I spotted a familiar figure, standing apart from the crowd, watching me. I thought I was seeing things. Meg? What was she doing here? How had she even gotten here?

Dara turned to see what I was looking at. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. What’s she doing here?”

“I didn’t know she was coming,” I said, my gaze locked on Meg. She looked like she’d been smiling a moment before, but it had faded.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I told Dara, already walking away.

“Don’t you dare let her fuck up this meet for you.”

I made my way to Meg, pulling off my cap and weaving my way through the crowd. “Hey!” I stopped in front of her, squinting. “What are you doing here?”

“You invited me — remember?”

I scratched my head. “Oh, right. That was a long time ago.” My hair felt like a tangle of wet steel wool. I tried to run my fingers through it, but it was hopeless.

She looked worried. “Is it okay that I came?”

“Yeah! Of course.” I guided her back a few feet from the pool — we were in the way of some girls who were cheering for a teammate at the pool’s edge. “I just — I didn’t expect to see you here. How did you get here?”

She smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I asked my dad to drive me to your meet without fully disclosing the location until we were in the car.”

I laughed.

“I am seriously down in the polls with him. He’s hoping I’ll get a ride home with you.”

Oh boy. Dara would not be happy with that arrangement. Unless she was so happy about the Abby thing, she maybe didn’t even care. “We’ll figure it out,” I said.

She gazed at me, her eyes lit by the sun. “You were amazing.” She shook her head. “Watching you swim just slays me.”

My eyebrows shot up. “It
slays
you?”

She blushed. “You’re like a different person when you swim. You look like such a man.”

I grinned. I might not act like a man or kiss like a man, but apparently I looked like one.

I didn’t think I was imagining the sweep of Meg’s eyes over me.
All
over me. I’m pretty sure my heart actually stopped for a few seconds before it started back up in double time. After all, I was in a Speedo and that’s all. This thought almost never occurred to me. Only in Meg’s presence was I conscious of the fact that I was practically naked.

“I guess I’ll get to see you swimming a lot in Michigan,” she said.

“Right.” I nodded. “And your boyfriend, too!” Obviously I just couldn’t help myself.

Her eyes widened for a moment. “Right. Apparently.”

“That’s a nice gift. I guess.”

“Ha.” Her expression suggested she didn’t think it was a nice gift at all, which gave me a moment’s hope, but then she said, “My mom has an agenda.” She ran her hand up the back of her neck and lifted her hair for a moment. The heat was brutal. “I’m sure she’s just trying to remind me of what I’d be leaving behind if I move back to Chicago.”

“Oh.” It was hard to imagine her mom being that manipulative. But if she had a drinking problem . . . I guess that changes people. “What year is he, anyway?”

“He’ll be a senior.”

Fuck. I’d hoped he’d just graduated. Maybe heading off to college in New England. Or actual England. Or maybe Siberia. “Well, I hope he likes Silver Lake. It’ll be different having him there — not exactly like old times, huh?”

She held my gaze. “It’ll never be like old times, Otis.”

Fuck me. “Well, gotta go,” I said loudly, taking a step backward. “I have an event coming up.”

“The two hundred IM?” she asked, holding up a heat sheet. There were ink circles on it; she’d found my name and marked my events.

“Yup,” I said, walking away. Not my best event, the IM, since I sucked at fly. My fly looked like a robot with epilepsy.

It wasn’t a great swim, but no surprise there. I came out at about the same time as usual. My hundred breast was much better — good enough to place in the top five.

One event left: the medley relay at the end, which we stood a good chance of winning. Heinz and Shafer were pretty damn fast, and D’Amico was epic — a state-qualifying backstroker for two years.

I stood with the guys while we waited, drinking water and sucking on sliced oranges, trying to stay cool when we weren’t in the water. We still had a good ten minutes before our relay, so I wandered over to Meg.

“Hey, congratulations,” she called out, jumping up from her chair. She tipped her sunglasses back on her head and ran to meet me. To my surprise, she hugged me. Heat radiated from her, and she was damp with sweat. “Oh my God, your breaststroke is so fast!”

I couldn’t help beaming like an idiot when she pulled away and smiled at me. She picked up the hem of her shirt and waved it a little, trying to cool herself. “It’s so hot. I had forgotten how psychotic Chicago weather is.”

“It’s actually supposed to rain later,” I said, squinting to the west. “You should go inside when you can, cool off a little. Are you drinking enough water? You have sunscreen on?”

She didn’t answer, but she looked at me with an expression that resonated with something in the recesses of my memory. Finally, I placed it: it was the same expression she’d had that time she’d gotten lost in the hallways and I’d taken her to the classroom. Just like then, I wasn’t sure what was behind that expression in her eyes. Also just like then, it stirred up feelings in me.

Abby appeared out of nowhere, panting. “Otis! It’s Dara.”

I heard her before I saw her — a high-pitched scream. I turned and scanned the place. She was curled up on the ground by the girls’ team, clutching her arm.

I had never heard that kind of sound from Dara. Not ever. If Dara couldn’t stop herself from screaming, from drawing attention like this in a public place . . . I couldn’t even imagine how bad it must be.

Meg clapped her hands over her ears, her face going white. Oh, shit — the screaming.

“Come on!” Abby pulled me by the arm.

I couldn’t attend to both of them. With an apologetic glance at Meg, I took off after Abby.

When I reached Dara, a crowd was gathering — the thing she hated most. I pushed through and knelt on the concrete beside her. Between the bruises and the bandages and the agony on her face, she was a heartbreaking sight.

“Let’s get you out of here.” I gathered her up in my arms and stood. She jerked and twisted. “I’ll take you to the parking lot. We’ll do the hand thing.”

“The box,” she managed to get out.

The box? I hesitated. The box was at least forty-five minutes away. I still had the relay. But she knew that.

“Let’s try the hand thing first,” I said. “I still have the medley relay.”

“Box,” she repeated, louder.

If she was asking me to miss the relay, things must be dire. “Okay.” But it wasn’t really okay. I wished it were an individual event and not a relay, because I was costing the guys the race.

As I turned to head out, my eyes lit on a single face: Meg’s. She was watching us, her lips moving. She stood plucking that hair rubber band that always seemed to be on her wrist.

Oh Jesus. I was supposed to get her home, too.

Abby appeared and stroked Dara’s head. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’ll be okay.” She turned to me. “I have a relay! Otherwise I’d come.” Then she mouthed,
You have a relay, too.

I glanced around and caught Meg’s eye. I gestured her over with my head.

Dara twisted in my arms, eyes shut tight, and let out another shrill cry. Meg approached, hands hovering by her ears.

“Can you get my stuff from Shafer and bring it to us in the parking lot?” I asked Meg. “I need to drive Dara home. I’m sorry — I think you have to find another ride.”

“I can give her a ride,” Abby said, nodding at Meg.

Meg looked at Dara for a moment, then shook her head. She looked at me. “I’ll come with you.”

“Christ,” Dara said tightly, twisting her head to glare at Meg. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Meg said, looking not at all sure that was a good idea. It probably wasn’t. It probably very much wasn’t. “I can help,” she said, nodding as if trying to convince me, or maybe herself. I certainly wasn’t convinced. What if Dara screamed all the way home? What then?

“I’ll get your stuff and meet you in the parking lot,” Meg said, backing away and then breaking into a jog on her way to find Shafer.

Abby handed me Dara’s bag. She stepped close to Dara and stroked her head one last time, saying, “I’ll come see you after the meet, okay? Hang in there, sweetie.”

I pushed out of there as fast as I could, the asphalt of the parking lot burning my feet. Dara was crying now, occasionally spitting the word “fuck” out. Honestly, to me, her crying was almost worse than the screaming. This was such a bullshit way to live. I couldn’t believe nobody could figure out how to cure phantom limb pain.

The interior of the Stupidmobile was a sauna. I started the engine and got the AC blasting, leaving Dara sitting in the passenger seat with the door open. I walked around to her side and squatted by the open door.

She reached out a clammy arm to hold on to me, a slightly sour smell emanating from her. She buried her face in my shoulder. “This fucking sucks.”

“I know. We’ll get you home to the box.”

I glanced up. Meg was headed our way, wilted and stressed, her arms full of things.