I shook my cracking hands, which felt like thousands of pins were being drilled through my skin.
This feeling in my hands was a constant reaction of my body when I thought about why I went to the pool hall late at night to fight against my fear of deep water.
The knot in my stomach tightened more and more the closer I got to the edge of the pool and felt the cool water against my toes.
My time in the pool was a little shorter today, as Aria had to leave early, and I took her shift helping Landon get the coffee shop ready for the day ahead.
We cut fruits for the fruit salads, baked muffins, made baguettes and bagels, and cleaned the café.
I knew Aria didn’t have a dentist appointment, and making the lie to Landon believable, too, lasted until Henry pulled up in front of the café in his swanky cart to pick her up.
Turned out that Landon was a pretty laid-back and friendly guy to have a really good conversation with. He had been here briefly and started working at the café in early October.
I was going to lie to him about Henry being Arias Uber, but one of my weaknesses was lying, and I was sure he wouldn’t have believed me anyway.
It always showed on my face when I tried to lie, and this time it didn’t work either because Landon told me that he always heard Aria and me chatting in the storage room and unintentionally knew about everything.
I would have loved to stay longer in the café to have an excuse to go to the pool, but here I was, standing at the edge in my bikini with a towel around my body.
I have not entered a pool more profound than my waist for a year. I didn’t want to enter a public pool with other guests who might watch me panic as the water got deeper below me.
Meanwhile, I dared to swim in the shallowest part of the pool because I had the bottom right under my feet, and I could see it.
The pool had a depth of six meters, and underwater a hill went up where it was only one-meter depth.
This feeling of being unable to breathe and not having the strength to get out of the water and back into the air was absolute hell.
I set a goal to no longer fear the deep water and finally swim on the Eastburgh Sharks team.
I want to swim competitively again.
To feel that adrenaline pumping through my veins as I wait to jump in during the relay swim.
Catching your breath in one short breath before diving back down and gliding through the water, doing everything you can to be the fastest.
I missed that exact feeling so much.
I don’t want to make swimming my profession because I dreamed of standing in front of the camera with a microphone and moderating one day. To tell the people of the world the latest news or someday to interview the swimmers at a swim competition or other athletes. When I thought of water, jumping from the starting block into the deep pool with a head dive, I felt nothing but fear and panic.
Slowly I took off my flip-flops and let my right-hand slide to the terrain, which was sticking out of the water next to the stairs leading into the pool.
I dropped my towel next to my shoes, and before taking my first step into my personal hell, I looked around one last time to make sure it was just me here in the swimming pool.
The cool water was suddenly over my waist, and close enough to the pool’s edge, I slid into the water and swam.
It took me a long time to go so deep that almost my whole body was covered with water. I couldn’t describe the feeling when I saw this amount of water before me.
I counted quietly to five in my head, repeating the numbers repeatedly until I felt I could already see them in front of my eyes.
As I counted, the thought came to me that I wanted to stop it all, just let it go and accept that my Dad has taken away the very thing that once meant so much to me.
1…2…3…4…5
I can’t make it.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ I took my first natural breath and stood straight in the water.
I can’t dive.
This feeling of not being able to breathe sent me into a panic. My head was pounding, and my breathing became more hasty.
I wasn’t only afraid of the deep water that I won’t be able to see the ground beneath my feet, but also that I’ll never get rid of this fucking fear.
I felt so silly when I did it, but ever since the accident last year, I have had a block. My love for swimming and diving is locked with a lock, and I’m desperately searching for the key.
Suddenly I heard the squeaking of a door, probably the door that leads in and out because the sounds always last through the entire swimming hall.
My glance at the large clock that showed the time above the pool told me I had ten minutes left.
Ten minutes until I leave the water, get dressed again, and put enough distance between the building and me to breathe easy again.
I ran up the steps out of the pool, grabbed my flip-flops and towel, and disappeared into the locker room.
There were lockers there, and each member of the Sharks had their own decorated locker with their name on it.
I usually locked my stuff in some free locker that wasn’t occupied.
With deliberation, I glanced around each corner until I was out of the building and quickly crossed the street. Maybe I just imagined the noise in my subconscious because the parking lot was empty.
I was glad to be out of the pool hall.
Whenever I was there, it felt like my life took a break, and I disappeared from reality. All this fucking hassle wouldn’t even have to be if my Dad had kept himself under control back then.
I made my way home, and while every now and then, single cars passed me, one of them suddenly stopped and put the car in reverse.
My gait quickened, and I tried not to let it get away from me that this car was driving slowly next to me.
I pulled the cord of my headphones out of my phone in my jacket pocket, and the music I had been listening to at total volume until just now was jarringly gone.
Out of my eye, I spotted a Jeep, which could only be one.
I was sure it was him, but I still decided to continue ignoring him and followed the footpath. The passenger side window was rolled down, and I couldn’t help but look into the car and see Weston there.
‘Are you always this stubborn and ignorant?’ he called from the car.
‘If it’s about you, then yes.’ I kept walking.
He absolutely didn’t give a shit about cars passing him and honking at him. His arm rested on the steering wheel, and the other arm rested on the center console.
‘Your Mom and my parents would kill me if I didn’t take you home,’ he pulled into the next driveway, blocking my way.
At least he wasn’t honked at anymore, and the cars could continue normally.
‘Get in the car now!“
‘No, thanks.’
It was only a few minutes until I would arrive anyway. I could manage that on my own.
‘Damn it, Luna. That wasn’t a request. Get the fuck in,’ he hissed, getting out and walking around his car, holding the passenger door open for me.
I just wanted to get home, and I had two choices right now.
Either I stubbornly stay here or get in the car with him, and I’m finally home.
No one said I had to talk to him.
I thought of more counter-arguments to not having to get in the car with Weston, but I couldn’t think of any arguments not to get in his car, so I gave it up and settled into the passenger seat.
This would be the worst and longest five-minute car ride of my life.
‘Was that so bad getting in with me?’ Weston pulled out of the driveway and followed the road.
‘You could have turned out to be a serial killer.’
‘I don’t think murderers are that outrageously good-looking.’
Why did I get in his car again?
‘Yeah, super funny,’ I said wryly, ‘you taking me now doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like you.’
‘We’ll fix that. Everyone likes me,’ he argued.
I exhaled in annoyance. ‘I sure don’t. The only thing you need to change is to get your big ego out of your ass.’
‘You’ll like me.’
I would love to open the door right now and jump out of the driving car. I’d instead do that right now than keep talking to him.
‘I guess there’s a first time for everything.’
‘Want to bet?’
‘I’m not betting over shit like this, and I’m certainly not betting with you,’ I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
At that moment, he turned right onto the driveway and parked his car in front of the trailer with a covered boat.
‘You’re going to like me, Hazel Bug.’
I looked at him, confused, and realized what he had just called me. I got out of the car and ran after Weston.
‘Don’t ever call me that again.’
‘What? Hazel Bug?’ I heard him laugh.
‘Fuck you.’
