Page 9 of When Our Stars Aligned

I remove my T-shirt and shorts and place my towel on a hook. I ease myself into the shallow end, spit into my goggles (gross,I know, but it prevents them from fogging), and start with a few slow warm-up laps of breaststroke followed by freestyle. I don’t have to watch my time today since I don’t check in with the university until later this week. For now, I’ll focus on getting used to my new surroundings and, more importantly, taking care of myself.

6

Jax

“Man, the first thing I’m gonna do when I get home is order a big-ass steak.” Travis picks at his mystery meat from the galley. “And then, I’m gonna order another big-ass steak for a side. And for dessert—”

“Let me guess, a big-ass steak?”

“No, I was gonna say a hot fudge sundae from Dairy Queen. I don’t know what it is that makes them so good. I think it’s the ratio they got going between the soft serve and hot fudge.”

I shake my head and push the food around on my plate. This is Travis’s first tour and my second, so I was better prepared for regular meals of shit on a shingle.

“Lunchtime is over!” Our Senior Chief bursts through the door. “We have a partial building collapse with women and children trapped inside!”

We quickly throw our meals away and run towards the convoy of trucks preparing to leave. This is not our typical job, but as the Navy’s Seabees, we have the knowledge and heavy equipment to assist in these rare situations.

Travis and I jump into the truck carrying small equipment while Goodwin and Taylor take the forklift. We roll out of base in silence. I love being in the Navy, but I can’t wait to be back in the States. I never thought I’d miss seeing grass, but the monotonous color of sand gets to you after a while.

My gut starts to churn as we get closer to the scene. Something doesn’t feel right. There is a building of some sort up ahead, but it doesn’t look like it’s collapsed. The locals seem calm. Too calm. Travis and I share a look.

“Does something seem—”

I wake up gasping in a cold sweat. It’s been six years, yet it still feels like yesterday. I grab my phone to look at the date. Damn! It’s like my subconscious knows the anniversary of my worst nightmare.

My phone buzzes while still in my hand.

Uncle Chris: Thinking of you today. You know I’m always here to talk.

I reply with my usual response.

Me:Thanks. I know.

My family means well. They have a ton of love to give, and I guess I used to when I was younger. But now? I usually just give my bare minimum. It’s safer to keep everyone at arm’s length.

Looking at the time, I see my alarm is scheduled to go off in twenty minutes. I shut it off; it’s not like I’ll be able to get back to sleep. I say an extra prayer for Goodwin and Taylor and remind myself to go easy on Travis today.

Forgoing my morning coffee, I change into my swim trunks and head down to the pool. I’ll need to push myself extra to work out my nervous energy.

A ping of agitation hits me when I open the doors to the pool and see that someone else is already in there and using my lane. I’m always alone. No one ever comes to the pool at this hour. Sure, some of the senior citizens like to float around after lunch or some families come on the weekends, but I’m the only one up and doing laps at the ass crack of dawn and I like it that way. I like my solitude. I know it sounds petty, but I like the simplicity of my mornings. Hell, I like simplicity period. I’ve had several rocky years and need this solace; fuck, Iseekit. I’ve been burned, literally and figuratively.

I walk towards the pool to get a better look at who is stealing my lane. It’s hard to tell since her face is in the water, and the tilt of her head when she comes up for air gives me nothing to go by. She’s in a dark blue racing-style bathing suit, which is typical of what a female swimmer would wear. That’s good. I can’t stand it when girls claim to be serious swimmers and then show up in a skimpy two-piece. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate tiny two-pieces just as much as the next guy, but that’s for hanging out at the beach or a party, not for doing laps.

I begrudgingly dive into the area next to the lane and start my freestyle warm-up.

7

Aly

My hands cut through the water as I start to find my rhythm in the pool. I used to swim nearly every day after work at the gym near my home. It was a great way to decompress, but after weird things started happening, I became much more of a recluse. I went to work and came straight home. I even used a grocery delivery service, so I didn’t have to go to the store. Jess was right; I really was losing myself in Georgia.

I feel a splash nearby, alerting me that someone else has entered the pool. My heart rate picks up out of fear, but I try to rationalize with myself. I’m three thousand miles away from home and only three people (Jess; her husband, Brady; and her brother, Jacob) know my location.

My fear quickly subsides as the swimmer passes me, flip turns, and continues. I can tell by the guy’s swim trunks that he swimson a regular basis and decide he’s here for the same reason I am. With my nerves calming, curiosity gets the best of me. He’s fast, but his motions are seamlessly fluid. Some swimmers prefer speed over technicality. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that, but I tend to think it makes them look sloppy. This guy, though, has mastered both.

I straighten my head to get a better look as he does another flip turn. He has a sleeve of tattoos with some type of tribal markings on one arm and something else on his chest. It’s hard to see smaller details when you’re swimming next to someone, but I certainly take notice of his muscular arms, broad chest, and six-pack. Perfection. Not that I’m interested, of course. I’ll probably never date again, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the sight next to me.

He switches his stroke to butterfly and I cringe. I hate swimming next to anyone doing the butterfly, especially a large guy. His movements become hard and angry. His testosterone-filled strokes create waves that inadvertently send a mouthful of water in my face every time I tilt my head for air. I fight against muscle memory to breathe in the opposite direction, but the mini tsunamis he makes nearly push me into the wall. I take back what I thought about him being a smooth swimmer.

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