Page 86 of How to Walk Away

“Push back a little. Otherwise, it’s not therapy. It’s just hugging.”

“Hugging could be a type of therapy.”

“Not the type your father’s going to pay me for.”

“He might if I asked him to.”

“You can do this. Take a breath.”

So I did. Then I pushed myself back until there was half a footbetween us, and worked my legs into position as if they were foreign objects. He kept his hands at my rib cage, and I braced mine on his shoulders. Then there we were, waist deep in the water, standing. Right then, I felt it for the first time—almost like an electrical pulse: a tiny flicker of joy.

He saw it. He saw me feel it. There was nowhere to look but straight into his face, and he read me in less than a second.

I couldn’t help but smile.

He smiled back. A real smile. The first one of his I’d ever seen. And I felt another electrical pulse.

“You’re standing,” he said.

“You’re smiling,” I said.

“I’m not,” he said. But that just made him smile more. He threw his head back and said, “Focus! Focus!” To himself, as far as I could tell.

For a flash, as I noticed all those muscles and tendons crisscrossing under the stubble on his throat, I forgot all about myself, and why we were here, and the impossible thing we were trying to do. For a second, he was just a guy in a pool in wet cargo shorts—and I was just a girl, being held.

But just for a second.

Then he brought his face down and got serious. “Okay,” he said. “When I take a step backward, you take a step forward.”

But it had been too long. I shook my head. “I can’t remember how.”

“Don’t overthink it. Your body remembers. You know how to bring the knee up. Then let the water help the foot follow.”

When he took a step back, I brought my knee forward. Then my foot followed behind, carried by the current. Then I set it down.

“I did it!” I whispered.

“Good. Do the other one.”

So I did.

It was slow, but it felt so good to work that old, familiar pattern. One foot, then the other, side to side, in that ancient human motion. It was bliss, and heartbreak—both. It wasjust enoughof what I wanted to remind me of what I wanted—who I’d been, what I’d lost. That must havebeen the aspect that made me cry, because by the time we made it to the far side, my face was cold with tears.

But I was smiling. Crying and smiling both. As sad and happy as I’d been in a while. Not numb, that was certain.

“We made it all the way!” I said. Then, because nothing else seemed like it could possibly be more interesting, I said it again. “We made it all the way!”

“Aye. We did.”

“I want to high-five you, but I don’t want to let go.”

“Don’t high-five. We’re going back across.”

I felt like I could go all night, but he said that was just the excitement. He promised I was working much harder than I realized.

“The thing is,” I said, as we moved back across. “I don’t think my muscles are bringing my foot forward. I think it might just be drifting in the current behind the knee.”

“That’s okay. The theory is, the more your body does it, the more it will remember what to do. Going through those motions helps spark memories in your body. That’s the hope, at least.”

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