swimming? As usual, my brain is coming up with a million reasons a minute to not strip and jump in after Kay—second nature, really. But I feel the pull of the water, I sense its allure. It’s stronger than the doubts quickly accumulating in my brain—and the wine helps.
Almost like an out-of-body experience, I hoist my top over my head, leave my shorts on the deck and, barefoot, saunter toward the lake. I stand there for a few seconds, only clad in my underwear. Kay’s swimming toward the middle of the lake, giving me the privacy I need. I scan my surroundings. Is there really no one around?
But the only sound is the water splashing around Kay in the distance, a light rustle in the leaves because of the evening breeze, and my breath, which comes quickly and ragged.
I fold my arms around my back and unhook my bra, yanking down my panties when I let it slip off my body, leaving my underwear in a puddle of cotton fabric by the lake. I stand naked in front of the water, ready to jump in and swim after Kay. And I feel a warm fuzz of contentment wrap itself around my heart.
Freed, I dive in. The water glides along my body, cleansing me in an exhilarating, midnight-swim way. There’s nothing like moving through water completely naked, without the confines of tight swim gear. No barriers. Just nature surrounding me. In the deafening silence of the night, I make my way toward Kay. She has reached the western edge of the lake, where we watched the sun dip behind the trees earlier, treading water.
“There’s nothing like it, is there?” She’s just a shadow in the darkness, but her voice, already so familiar, soothes me.
“It’s amazing.” I let my head fall back, my ears underwater, my nipples momentarily peeking out over the surface, but I don’t care. The breeze rushes over them and I feel it shoot through my entire body. For the first time in a long while, I feel alive—and incredibly aroused. Tears stream down my cheeks when I tilt my body upward again. But it’s dark and we’re in the lake, surrounded by water anyway. I can see my cabin from here. The place I came to heal. And I know I have a lot of work to do, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Right now, I just feel. The possibilities of life. A glimmer of happiness. What I would have missed.
I dive under briefly, erasing my tears, before swimming to the other end and back. When I let myself drift on my back, the stars above me, the water underneath, and Kay close by, I know I’m ready to talk.
CHAPTER NINE
Kay has brought out the whiskey and we sit, wrapped in soft bathrobes, on her deck again. I take a sip, and another.
“Good stuff, huh?” She eyes me quizzically. “There’s something different about you. You seem more at ease after that swim.” A smile slides along her lips. “Are you catholic? Was it like being baptized all over again?”
Silently, I shake my head and wait until she relaxes back into her seat, twirling her glass between her fingers. “What you asked me earlier. About what happened to me?”
“Yes.” Kay nods.
“I gave up. On life. On everything.” The soft, steady voice with which I proclaim the words surprises me. “Mainly on myself, because I was so sick of making the same mistakes over and over again, of repeating the endless cycle of a short peak of happiness—usually brought on by a delusional love affair, but not always—followed by an ever-growing darkness. So sick of putting on that mask every single day, of putting on that front. Of pretending that life was peachy.” I pause to take another sip. The heat of the booze burns inside of me, marking the moment. It also allows me to continue to speak these words I’ve only—stutteringly, engulfed by bottomless shame and guilt—ever uttered in Dr. Hakim’s office.
“To keep up that front takes everything you’ve got. After all, I was made professor long before my time was due. I had a house in Back Bay. The respect of my peers. Never short of
Almost like an out-of-body experience, I hoist my top over my head, leave my shorts on the deck and, barefoot, saunter toward the lake. I stand there for a few seconds, only clad in my underwear. Kay’s swimming toward the middle of the lake, giving me the privacy I need. I scan my surroundings. Is there really no one around?
But the only sound is the water splashing around Kay in the distance, a light rustle in the leaves because of the evening breeze, and my breath, which comes quickly and ragged.
I fold my arms around my back and unhook my bra, yanking down my panties when I let it slip off my body, leaving my underwear in a puddle of cotton fabric by the lake. I stand naked in front of the water, ready to jump in and swim after Kay. And I feel a warm fuzz of contentment wrap itself around my heart.
Freed, I dive in. The water glides along my body, cleansing me in an exhilarating, midnight-swim way. There’s nothing like moving through water completely naked, without the confines of tight swim gear. No barriers. Just nature surrounding me. In the deafening silence of the night, I make my way toward Kay. She has reached the western edge of the lake, where we watched the sun dip behind the trees earlier, treading water.
“There’s nothing like it, is there?” She’s just a shadow in the darkness, but her voice, already so familiar, soothes me.
“It’s amazing.” I let my head fall back, my ears underwater, my nipples momentarily peeking out over the surface, but I don’t care. The breeze rushes over them and I feel it shoot through my entire body. For the first time in a long while, I feel alive—and incredibly aroused. Tears stream down my cheeks when I tilt my body upward again. But it’s dark and we’re in the lake, surrounded by water anyway. I can see my cabin from here. The place I came to heal. And I know I have a lot of work to do, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Right now, I just feel. The possibilities of life. A glimmer of happiness. What I would have missed.
I dive under briefly, erasing my tears, before swimming to the other end and back. When I let myself drift on my back, the stars above me, the water underneath, and Kay close by, I know I’m ready to talk.
CHAPTER NINE
Kay has brought out the whiskey and we sit, wrapped in soft bathrobes, on her deck again. I take a sip, and another.
“Good stuff, huh?” She eyes me quizzically. “There’s something different about you. You seem more at ease after that swim.” A smile slides along her lips. “Are you catholic? Was it like being baptized all over again?”
Silently, I shake my head and wait until she relaxes back into her seat, twirling her glass between her fingers. “What you asked me earlier. About what happened to me?”
“Yes.” Kay nods.
“I gave up. On life. On everything.” The soft, steady voice with which I proclaim the words surprises me. “Mainly on myself, because I was so sick of making the same mistakes over and over again, of repeating the endless cycle of a short peak of happiness—usually brought on by a delusional love affair, but not always—followed by an ever-growing darkness. So sick of putting on that mask every single day, of putting on that front. Of pretending that life was peachy.” I pause to take another sip. The heat of the booze burns inside of me, marking the moment. It also allows me to continue to speak these words I’ve only—stutteringly, engulfed by bottomless shame and guilt—ever uttered in Dr. Hakim’s office.
“To keep up that front takes everything you’ve got. After all, I was made professor long before my time was due. I had a house in Back Bay. The respect of my peers. Never short of
Similar Books
