Learning to Swim (26 page)

I set out, going over in my head what I would say to her. But I never made it that far. I ran smack dab into someone on the boardwalk. Literally.

“I’m sorry,” I said, backing away, “I—” But my apology died away as soon as I realized who it was.

I felt no urge to punch her. Or slap her. Or even do the cowardly thing and call her a bitch. All I felt was the overwhelming yearning to go shake her hand. All bets off. All hard feelings gone.
You win.

Of course I didn’t do any of that. We eyed each other awkwardly, but it was too late to pretend we hadn’t seen each other. To pretend we weren’t thinking who-knows-what about each other. There were hard emotions in her eyes, probably a reflection of my own.

And as I stood there, having worked so hard since yesterday to banish Rory from my thoughts—as I stood there, groping for something to say to her, I realized she didn’t look angry or bitchy or anything like my rival. She looked sad. Inexpressibly sad.

With the boy forced out of my mind, I could, for the first time, look at her like another girl. A little girl who, the first time I had met her months ago, had obviously just finished crying. A little girl whose big brother had just died. A little girl who was probably having the worst summer of her life.

“Jen,” I said, willing my voice not to break. “I’m really sorry about your brother. And anything I may have said that made you feel sad.”
Great, that was on par with a kindergartner’s apology.
I wasn’t exactly great at expressing myself, but she nodded, so some kind of point was getting across.

“I can’t even imagine losing someone like that. And at sea. I can’t begin to fathom how you feel. But I know it’s ten times greater than any pain I’ve ever felt.” I imagined my mother’s face. The times I’d walked in on her talking to a friend or my dad about
her
. The tears, the confusion, the trying to hide it all behind a smile. A pain greater than I’d ever felt. Always protecting Cora. Protecting Cora from feeling a pain that monstrous. “I’m really sorry,” I said again. My eyes welled up in spite of myself.

Jen sniffed. I looked up to see her eyes welling, too. Just as I began to wonder if she was going to respond at all, she murmured, “Thanks, Cora.” It was almost a whisper. But it was enough.

In an unconsciously mutual agreement, we turned our opposite ways down the boardwalk. Once I had turned away I was able to stop the tears. But I was certainly not fit to see Mrs. O’Leary. I would go see her tomorrow.

With my mother’s recent reconciliation and Jen’s grief on my mind, emotions I couldn’t control were raging through me as I walked home. I’d made it right with so many people, but there was another that I knew I had to get out of the way.

I wiped my nose on my sleeve and called Rosie. She picked up with a “Heya, bitch!”

I responded with: “You made me feel like boyfriends were more important than me.”

Of course, the other end of the line went silent. It was quiet for a long time but I didn’t hang up. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I think I’m okay with it now. But you always put boys before me. As if having a boyfriend was more important than having a best friend.” I paused for breath. And, more importantly, courage. “Eventually I started to believe it. I wanted a boyfriend just for the sake of having one, because I admired you so much. And … well, I was jealous.”

“Cora, you were always more important than any boy.” Her voice was deep and full of emotion. Unlike the flippant tone she usually had in all of our conversations.

“Well, thanks. I guess I needed to hear it.” I paused. “And I know that one day I won’t be. One day there will be a boy that sticks around or that you
let
stick around, and he will become more important in your life than me. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m okay with that—”

“But that hasn’t happened yet,” Rosie interrupted. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

There was silence as I tried to climb out of the pit of emotions we were stuck in.

I lightened my tone. “In other news, I have a huge crush on a boy.”

“Not that it’s the most important thing in the world, but …” Rosie tried to keep her voice casual. “But tell me
all
about it!”

I couldn’t suppress my giggles.

When I opened the screen door to the back porch at the Pink Palace, I got—despite what this summer had been—one of the biggest shocks yet. The tiny white iron table was surrounded by both my parents, looking highly uncomfortable and confused, and
Rory
.

I stuttered many unintelligible things before my dad said, “Cora, this young man has been waiting for you for quite a while.”

Everything relating to Jen or Rosie or Mrs. O’Leary was gone. Once again, I was selfishly lost in my own world. And this one was unfathomably uncomfortable. “I—I—this is Rory,” I stammered.

“We’ve met,” Dad said coolly.

Rory looked uneasy, but not quite so shook up as either of my parents. Dared I imagine he was the tiniest bit amused?

I desperately tried to gather my thoughts into the same hemisphere. “We’re going to go for a walk,” I said to my parents. “I’ll be right back.” And I turned on my heel and walked back down the porch steps without so much as a glance at Rory. But I heard him scrambling down the steps after me. I hadn’t even cleared the landing before he began.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make them mad—or you—Cora stop.”

But I kept walking toward the boardwalk.

“You didn’t leave me any choice,” he went on. “You didn’t show up last night, and I don’t even have your number for Christ’s sake.”

I kept walking, but slowed down to let him catch up. I was going to make up some bullshit story about how my crush had dissipated, but it was so far from the truth that I couldn’t even say it out loud.

“Cora, Captain Harville said your family had decided to leave early, and—Jesus—Cora, I thought you guys had gone. I thought I’d never see you again!” He drew me to him, his arms squeezing me tightly. I stood there limply, not reacting. He pulled away. “What’s going on?”

“You should be with Jen,” I finally said.

“
What
?” he sputtered.

“I was on my way to meet you yesterday, but I saw you guys together, and … Rory I saw you with her. She’s … she’s pretty and she’s like you. And I just saw her, like five minutes ago …” I trailed off; I didn’t want to go there. Of all the things going wrong in that girl’s life, losing her friend or crush or whatever he was to her didn’t seem fair. “And she’s, she’s used to this place. It’s best if I just bow out now—and I’m not angry—I’m not upset—but we’ve been acting crazy. I have to leave, like, the day after tomorrow. That night at the resort was crazy. She’s … Jen’s right for you.”

Rory’s face looked furious. “And I don’t get a say in this?” he demanded. “Cora, I was saying good-bye to Jen. I’m leaving, too, remember? I’ve known Jen for a long time. I know she’s had crushes on me from time to time, but she deserved an explanation as to why I was disappearing from her life so suddenly. With only a few weeks left to hang out, I’ve virtually disappeared from her life. She needed an explanation. And she got it. I told her that I was strangely and ridiculously and foolishly and oddly, prematurely in love with you.”

I gulped. “I—well—” I fell back into silence.
What in the hell do I say to that?
But he wasn’t going to say anything more so I had to come up with something fast. “Mrs. O’Leary doesn’t even think humans are capable of real love,” I said.

What?
What a strange thing to say! Stop talking!

“I don’t know what love is,” I added with a squeak.

A normal boy would have excused himself then on the mere fact that I was bat-shit crazy. But not Rory. He just laughed. “I don’t think anyone knows what love is.
Ever
. Instead of waiting my whole life to say it until I know what it is for sure—and risking never actually knowing, well, I’d rather say it every chance I get, instead.”

“But everybody means something different when they say it,” I protested.

He laughed and pulled me close to him again, cupped my face in his hands.

“Well when I say, I love you, Cora Manchester, it means I’m head over heels for you as much as my schoolboy mind can understand, and I want to spend every waking moment with you until you leave Oyster Beach.”

Fanacht Liom

Wait for Me

Rory felt like the best friend that I’d ever had. He was quiet when I wanted to talk and he was talkative when I wanted to listen. And he was oftentimes quiet when I wanted to be quiet. For the first time I understood what maybe, just maybe, Rosie had felt with a few of those boys that she had dated. Certainly not Steve, but maybe the new one. It was the endless talking with Rory and the renewed calls to Rosie and the reinstated attentions from my mom that finally convinced me that I couldn’t afford to miss out on any more conversations with my dad.

He was in the living room behind the newspaper when I sat down next to him on the couch.

He looked over the top of the paper at me briefly, as if to verify that I wasn’t an intruder. Then he disappeared behind it again. Apparently I was an intruder to his alone time.

“Dad,” I said confidently. I was ready to make some sort of argument to defend my behavior, to try to make him understand everything I was feeling. But he interrupted me.

“Save it, Cora, I’ve had enough of the serious talking today.”

I looked at him quizzically.

He emerged again from behind the paper. “Your mother beat you to it,” he said. “I know all about Western and the swimming lessons and everything else.”

“I—um, okay.” I forgot any piece of the argument I had just been prepared to make.

“Where did you come from?” he said with misty eyes, shaking his head slowly.

My mouth hung open in response.
Clever, Cora, really clever.

“You’re nothing like your mother, and you’re nothing like me, that’s for damn sure.”

“Nothing like you?” I repeated. “Are you kidding?”

He smiled weakly. “I guess there is a bit of your old dad in your attitude. Just the kind of attitude to put at the front of a boardroom.”

We lapsed into a silence that almost felt comfortable. I was used to silences with my father, this almost felt natural again.

“We’ll figure something out, Cora.” He was actually looking at me, holding the newspaper in his lap.

I nodded. It was kind of vague, but it was better than the silent treatment.

When I met Rory that evening at the pier, I don’t think there was one second of silence between us. One subject led to the next seamlessly. It was like we were making up for eighteen years of not knowing each other.

It wasn’t until I said I should be going home for dinner that we grew quiet. We weren’t good at good-byes, perhaps because we knew a giant one was looming in the near future. I hadn’t yet gotten up from my spot nestled in his arms.