Page 108 of Absorbed

“Hey Stacey,” her mom whispered, “wake up for a sec. There’s something I want to talk about before I leave for work.”

Stacey rolled over and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty. I have a client at eight.”

Stacey blinked, calculating the hours. She had slept nine-and-a-half straight. She hadn’t slept that much in almost a month. She pushed herself up then leaned against the wall, yawning. Murphy jumped on the bed and laid her head in Stacey’s lap.

Stacey’s mom held the folded newspaper up for Stacey to see. “The Sunreported on what happened Saturday. I wondered if you’d want me here when you read it?”

Stacey rubbed Murphy’s soft, floppy ear between her fingers. “Is there something in there about who they think is at fault for Jessie’s accident?”

“No. It just says there’s an ongoing investigation.” Her mom bit the side of her lip. “There is a picture of Jessie, though. In the hospital.”

Stacey took a deep breath and reached for the paper. “I think I’ll be alright. I might look at it after I have some breakfast.”

Her mom handed her the paper, then stood and kissed Stacey on the forehead. “I love you, Doodle Bug. I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too, Mom. Have a good day.”

A few minutes later, Stacey sat on the couch with her cup full of Pops!, and the top half of the weekly newspaper’s front page visible across her lap. The headline read “From Community Engagement to Catastrophe.”

Stacey slurped cereal and took in the two large black-and-white photos. The first was of Bob holding up his stopwatch with the gold-coin necklaces, the crowded pool behind him. The second showed a “POOL CLOSED” poster board sign, hanging crooked on the locked chain link fence, and the empty facility in the background. Mylar balloons, prayer candles, and bouquets of flowers were scattered along the base of the fence. People had written notes on the poster board, messages too small for Stacey to read.

She set the cereal cup aside unfinished and flipped the paper over to read the article.

Jessie’s senior yearbook photo smiled up between the columns of text next to a photo of him lying in a hospital bed. There was a large metal halo attached to Jessie’s head, and a brace around his shoulders and neck. His forehead was bandaged above stitches on the top of his nose and two black eyes. Stacey chewed the dry skin off her bottom lip.

In the lower right corner was a photo of a much younger Mr. Henderson in a Navy uniform. Despite the thinner cheeks and neck, the solemn look in his eyes was the same Stacey had seen during his many visits to the pool. The photo caption read:“Petty Officer Henry Allen Henderson, 1942. Obituary, pg. 6.”He looked like he was about the same age as Jessie at the time the photo was taken.

The article recounted Saturday morning’s Plunge Olympics events. “Just the kind of wholesome activity our town needs to be offering,” one father was quoted as saying. “For only $6, our family got an experience we’ll never forget,” a mother told the reporter after “her family won the gold in the family relay race.” The article noted that the pool was closed for the remainder of the week, and it was unclear whether the Plunge Olympics would be rescheduled for a later date or when the pool would reopen.

The article included portions of the coroner’s initial report: “Mr. Henderson suffered a heart attack while swimming. The cardiac arrest likely contributed to food from his stomach being regurgitated and lodging in his throat. Despite the heroic efforts of the pool staff and paramedics, multiple factors contributed to Mr. Henderson’s drowning and subsequent death.”

The article went on to describe the aforementioned “heroic” efforts of the staff to save Mr. Henderson, including Jessie’s attempt and subsequent tragic accident as a result. It said “Assistant pool manager Mark Rosenthal acted quickly and professionally,” and that “First-year lifeguards Stacey Chapman and Melissa Phillips proved to be calm and collected given the severity of the situation.” The final paragraph stated that “The investigation into the circumstances involving the drowning and lifeguard’s injuries is ongoing.” They requested anyone with relevant information to contact city hall.

Stacey was turning the page to read Mr. Henderson’s obituary when Murphy sat up. The dog ran to the door, barking excitedly and wagging her tail, just before the doorbell chimed.

Stacey hesitated. She didn’t want to open the door wearing only a pair of boxers and a tank top with no bra. But Murphy’senthusiasm assured Stacey the visitor was someone familiar.Maybe Greg left something behind on Sunday?

Stacey hollered, “Just a sec!” and wrapped the blanket from the couch around herself, running her fingers through her hair as she walked to the door.

She pulled it open and locked on the gentle, sea green of Gabe’s eyes. Murphy stopped barking and nudged the screen with her nose.

“Hi,” Stacey said.

“Can I come in?” Gabe asked.

Stacey nodded and pulled the front door open wider.

Gabe pulled the screen open and leaned down to give Murphy a scratch behind the ears. “Hey, Murph. I’ve missed you.” He looked Stacey in the eyes. “I’ve missed you, too,” he said to Stacey, then wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. “My mom just showed me theSun News. I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you call me?”

Stacey melted into his arms, closing her eyes and breathing in his familiar scent through his white T-shirt. “You said you needed space.”

Gabe tightened his embrace. Stacey’s arms expanded around his chest, her face against his heart, rising and falling with his breath. “I’m always here for you, when you need me. No matter what.”

Stacey pressed her cheek against his collarbone to wipe her tears away. “Are you on your way to work?” she asked, stepping back, shyly crossing her arms over her braless chest, and wiping her hand across her eyes.

Gabe shook his head. “I told them I was sick. I wanted to be able to hang with you as long as you needed. The pool’s closed, right?”

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