Page 22 of Swinging for the Deep End

There’s a story behind this with Piper.

I reach with my left hand and rub my right shoulder a few times as it’s already starting to stiffen up again.

I can’t keep my eyes off Piper, watching her swim up and back, over and over, not stopping at all.

She feels safe, confident, happy, and in control when she’s in the water.

A part of me is thinking I should just grab my stuff and go. Leave her be. I’m getting the sense that this is her thing. Her alone time. Her self-care in a way.

I shake my head.

I toss my towel back to the bleachers.

I’m not done swimming just yet…

The pain in my shoulder starts to bite even when I’m moving or not. That’s the signal that I’ve probably done a little too much and I need to call it a night. I need a few ibuprofen, a stiff drink and then my bed.

Well, the bed in the rented house with the mattress that’s decent enough for a little while. But I’m used to it. Traveling all the time. Sleeping on airplanes and in hotels. Never really getting much time at home.

I carefully pull myself up out of the pool.

Piper is still going.

She’s going at the same pace as when she first started.

It’s very impressive. And there’s got to be one hell of a backstory to it too.

I dry myself off as best I can and then sit down on the bottom part of the bleachers.

Piper stops a minute or so later, coming up out of the water, taking her goggles off, taking a few deep breaths. I see her look forward, then look my way.

“Can you tell me what time it is?”

I touch my phone’s screen. “Close to nine.”

“Nine? How close?”

“Ten minutes until.”

I hear her mumble shit and she launches herself out of the pool.

She starts to quickly dry herself off, working into a full panic. She drops her phone. Then she drops her keys.

I slowly put my t-shirt on as I approach her.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask.

“What?” Piper snaps, turning to face me.

She wrestles her swim cap off and drops it into her bag. I can’t help but notice how flat and messy her hair is.

“You’re moving a mile a minute,” I say. “Do you have a hot date or something?”

“Yup, that’s it. The hottest date in the world.”

She rubs the towel against her body a few more times, then reaches for her pants.

Her nipples begin to poke against the inside of the bathing suit.

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