Page 57 of Poolside

Keaton slumped into the embrace. “Thanks,” he said, his voice cracking. “Of course, all she wants to talk about is when I’m going to settle down and get married, so that I can access the trust Grandfather set aside for each of us.” He laughed, his breath warm against Tommy’s shoulder. “Leave it to her to be more concerned with my love life than her own impending death.”

“So are you going to try to settle down?” Tommy asked as Keaton pulled away, wiping a hand over his wet eyes. “Do you think Samantha is the one for you?”

“God, no.” Keaton looked appalled at the idea. “Our mothers set us up, and if there’s one thing I can say for certain about my future spouse, it’s that I’m going to make damn sure she’ll be the last woman Mother would pick for me.”

Tommy looked at his friend closely. “Is it really that bad with your mom?”

“People like me aren’t supposed to complain about our lives.” Keaton’s focus had returned to the water, reeling the line in quickly before casting again. “My family has wealth, influence—the kind of shit people spend a lifetime working toward only to come up short. I’ve benefited from it over and over again. I had access to the best coaches, the best tutors—I have no doubt my acceptance to Southeastern was influenced by the building Grandfather helped fund. Same with law school, same with my place at the law firm. But there’s always a cost to having every material thing you could want, and in my case, that cost is the freedom to do what I actually want with my life.”

“Don’t you like being a lawyer?” Tommy had always looked up to Keaton, admiring and even envying his career and status. In all the years they’d known each other, all of the Sundays spent on the golf course and the spring breaks at the lake house, he’d never heard his friend talk about his life like it was something he resented.

“No. At least, not the kind of law we practice, representing people or corporations who have enough money to get out of whatever bullshit they find themselves in.” He shot Tommy an apologetic smile. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to unload on you.”

Tommy waved off the apology. “I’m glad you told me about Mamaw. I’ll be thinking about her.”

Keaton opened his mouth like he was going to respond, but just then his bobber dipped below the surface.

“Let’s go!” Tommy grabbed a net while Keaton kept the line taut, reeling it in little by little as the fish thrashed in the water.

It turned out to only be a perch, but still, a catch was a catch. Keaton let it go once he’d freed it from the hook, and Tommy waved goodbye as it darted away from the bank.

“Go work shit out with Chuck, okay?” Keaton said when he dropped Tommy off at his car later. “I think the two of you could bring a lot of happiness to each other, if you figure it out.”

“I’ll talk to Chuck if you break up with Samantha.”

Keaton rolled his eyes. “Deal.”

* * *

“Your stroke is better, but we’ve got to build up your endurance. A half-mile is a long way, and you’re not going to have the benefit of the wall to rest on along the way.”

Tommy tried to catch his breath after the eight 50-yard sprints they’d done, squinting at the surface of the water from behind his goggles. The constant twinge in his chest seemed to swell in Chuck’s presence, making it even harder to get enough air to his lungs. “How many laps is a half-mile?”

Chuck looked at him, hands braced on his sharp hip bones, and a look of sympathy crossed his face. “Roughly eighteen.”

“Okay. I can swim that far eighteen times.” He pointed to the other side of the pool.

“Eighteen laps, not lengths. If we’re talking lengths, it’s about thirty six.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “Wait, wait wait wait wait. I have to swim that far thirty six times?”

“Didn’t you know that?”

“No, I didn’t fucking know that!” Tommy felt himself starting to sweat, even though he was submerged in water up to his shoulders. “What the fuck, Chuck? I can’t do that.”

“You realize you’ve done twenty laps at a time, right? You weren’t going fast, but you’ve done it.”

“Fuck,” Tommy groaned. “That’s just…shit, man. That’s a long way to go in a lake.”

“About that,” Chuck started, his eyes cast down between them. “You should really do some trial swims in open water.”

“Okay.”

Chuck bit his bottom lip, brow furrowed like he was uncertain about whatever he was going to say. “I actually talked to Keaton the other day. Asked him if there was any chance we could go out to the house on Lake Murray to practice.”

Tommy’s imagination ran wild: he and Chuck alone in the huge kitchen, Chuck diving into the water at sunrise, no one there to interrupt them. But Chuck wouldn’t want any of that with him. He’d made his position crystal fucking clear. Tommy cleared his throat. “What did he say?”

“It’s free the weekend before the fourth. We could drive up on Friday and train for the next two days.” Chuck wasn’t looking at him as he spoke.

---