Page 69 of The Love Haters

“That’s today.”

“You should definitelyalmostdrown,” Beanie said. “But not all the way. Just enough so he has to give you CPR.”

“Hanging up now,” I said.

“Make him put his mouth on you!” Beanie ordered, as I tapped the redX.

To be truthful, I didn’t logically think that I would drown during SWET training. I grasped the almost mathematical impossibility of drowning in a pool while surrounded by highly trained, peak-condition, professional rescue swimmers.

It wouldn’t really happen.

It just felt like it would.

In fact, my feelings didn’t seem to understand math at all—because if you’d asked them, they’d have told you I was certain to drown. One thousand percent.

One thing about this morning was for sure: I had frittered away a full week goofing around with Hutch—and still hadn’t gotten thatyesfor my “Day in the Life.”

Tonight. After SWET training. I’d ask him again tonight—and tell the truth about why.

If I survived.

I’D BEEN HOLDINGon to hope that they might let me wear clothes for SWET training, but then Hutch told me to bring a swimsuit.

I’d accumulated five suits since taking up residence at Rue’s place—100 percent of them because Rue kept buying them for me. She’d show up at my door with a gift bag from Vitamin Sea, and my shoulders would drop. “Put it on,” she’d command, and I never knew how to say no.

“Rue,” I’d asked recently, “why do you keep buying these for me?”

Rue just squeezed my hand and said, “Because I’m fond of you.”

I could feel that she meant it, and I let the warm comfort of that settle over me for a second before pressing on: “But do you buy tropics-wear for everyone you’re fond of?”

Rue was staying all business—waving me off with her hands to go try on the suit while she took her usual seat in the rattan chair with palm-leaf upholstery. “Only the ones who remind me a little of myself.”

At that, I paused. “Do I?”

Rue nodded. “Myself forty years ago.”

“Were you”—I dropped my voice to a stage whisper—“a chromophobe?”

Rue nodded, likeCan you believe it?“Picture all this,” she said, gesturing grandly at herself, “in beige.”

Beige?I wasn’t sure that I could, honestly. There she sat in a red-and-orange caftan with teal accents that matched her oversized Iris Apfel glasses, looking like she wasborn that way.A fearless seventy-year-old from the jump.

And I said as much.

“No one’s born fearless,” Rue said. “You have to earn it.” Then she added, gesturing at the swimsuit dangling from my hand, “Every time you have to be brave, you get to be a little braver next time. That’s what life is for.”

“I don’t think I want to be brave,” I said.

“I know.” Her face was all sympathy. “That’s why you keep hiding.”

What can I say? She had me.

“But I’ll tell you a secret,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks if you’re having fun. And all the fun is in color.”

I tried that idea on for size.

“My wish for you,” Rue went on, “is a vibrant, bright, glorious life. That’s why I keep bringing you these vibrant, bright, glorious swimsuits.”

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