Page 113 of It's Always Sonny

I can hang with Sonny’s family, too. Yesterday, I pushed myself to do more than I should have, but I had fun. I wanted to hang out with them. I wanted to participate in the activities and kick everyone’s butts (cornhole aside).

With my self-doubt and self-loathing shoved into a corner, it’s easy to see that I fit with them. They like me.

I love them.

When I hear a golf cart and a voice nearing the hot tub, my stomach flutters. But it’s not my typical nervous stomach. It’s not the churning and gnawing I’m so used to. It’s light and fluttery and makes my heart feel like it’s floating in my chest. It’s foreign and fantastic.

I’m excited to see Sonny.

I want to continue our conversation. I want to know where we go from here. I want that freaking kiss. Which is why it’s so strange that, as Sonny approaches, I panic.

He’s on the phone, and he doesn’t sound upbeat about it. He sounds like he’s defending himself.

From what?

I peek over the hot tub, but he’s looking carefully at the ground as he limps forward. My golf cart is on the opposite side of the hot tub from his, too, so he probably doesn’t realize I’m here. I feel like I’m eavesdropping, even though I’m not.

GAH!

“I know, Coach. I’ll keep rehabbing while I’m on vacation and will be in for the doc to evaluate me next week.” He stops. “You know me. I’m superhuman,” he says in a forced voice. “I’ll be in tip top shape when you see me next week.” He pauses. “Yup.” Another pause. “You got it.”

A moment later, he lets out a deep, heavy sigh I’ve never heard before. It’s too personal, too open, too frustrated for a conversation with his coach. That can only mean the call is over and it didn’t go well.

And he’s approaching.

He’s going to know I heard!

So I do the only thing I can think of: I stick my head fully in the water.

How stupid can you be?! I scream to myself.

My eyes are sealed tightly, but the heat makes it feel like they’re boiling inside my head. The molten liquid burns my ears and cheeks. What was I thinking? This is like that one time I tried cold immersion therapy at Millie and Duke’s until I realized I don’t hate myself that much.

In a word: torture.

What’s the plan, genius? Are you going to stay under until he leaves? He’s getting into the hot tub to meet you, in case you forgot. He’s going to wait longer than your eighty second lung capacity can handle.

Man, my brain is really sarcastic.

But it’s not wrong.

I have no clue where Sonny is. I can’t tell if the water has shifted, so maybe he’s waiting outside for me. Or maybe he forgot to wear shorts so he went back to find them and … maybe the lack of oxygen has gone to my head.

Do not go up, my brain warns.

But it’s hot! And there are brain eating amoebas in these things! I’m going to die!

Yeah, of mortification! DO NOT GO UP!

I listen to my brain for as long as I can. I hold my breath and hold it and hold it until my head is spinning.

Then I burst out of the water and gasp in air.

And Sonny shrieks. “AAAHHHH!”

He’s in the hot tub with me. Well, he was getting in the hot tub with me. He just threw himself out and fell onto the wooden platform.

“Sonny!” I stride through the heavy water to the side of the Jacuzzi he dove from. He’s clutching his chest when I peer over the edge. “Are you okay?”

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