Page 8 of Poolside

Without the demand of morning practices and weekend meets and travel, the days and nights had a tendency to stretch out, leaving too much room for getting lost in his head.

He finished his lap, pausing with his hands tightly gripping the cool cement wall. He tilted his head up, goggles still on, and felt the first rays of morning sun warm his face. That combined with the water that held his body like a slippery, smooth embrace was almost enough to shake the feeling that something was off.

Almost enough, but not quite.

* * *

Loud knuckles rapped on the corner of Chuck’s office door.

“Come in,” he called, not looking up from his laptop screen.

“I come with coffee and unsolicited company.”

Chuck looked up to see his best friend and old college roommate, David Hughes, pushing into the room with two steaming mugs in his hands. David had moved back to Charleston over a year ago and was in his second season as the head men’s basketball coach at Southeastern University.

David was a big man, taller than Chuck’s 6’ 2” with almost double his body mass. His brown hair was always a little bit wild, but he mostly covered it with a baseball cap.

“How are things?” David sprawled out in one of the chairs in front of Chuck’s desk and slid one of the coffees towards him.

“Nationals went well,” Chuck said, closing his laptop and taking the mug in hand. He preferred a latte, but more than that he appreciated the company. “Now it’s just the typical end of season stuff: getting our recruiting list locked in, scheduling travel for myself and the assistants to some spring meets to scope out recruits, and setting up off-season training.”

David hummed as he sipped his coffee. “Nice, man. That’s good. You signed your contract for next year?”

“Signed it this morning.” Chuck slapped David’s offered palm. “Connie even told me that I have continued to impress her every year.”

“Damn. Getting compliments from Connie? You’re crushing it.” David’s expression softened, and he leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees. “How are you doing otherwise?”

Chuck shrugged noncommittally. David was the only one who knew about his struggles with mental health over the years—an ongoing battle with depression that had been mostly stabilized with consistent therapy and medication. “Things are good right now,” he answered honestly. “The off-season can be tough, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you still swimming in the mornings?”

Chuck nodded. He’d always found comfort in swimming, the exercise clearing his head and the echoing silence under the surface settling him in a way little else could.

“Still seeing your therapist?”

“David, I promise I’m doing well.” Chuck loved his friend, but he had a tendency to be overbearing when it came to the people he cared about.

David frowned at him, his thick brown brows knitting together. “You know I’m here for you, right?”

Chuck nodded. “I know, dude. I know.” He shifted in his chair, needing to steer the conversation in a different direction. “How’s Sage doing?”

As David launched into an enthusiastic retelling of his girlfriend’s latest accomplishment as a high school boy’s basketball coach, Chuck felt himself relax.

* * *

Chuck slid into an open spot at the crowded picnic table at The Grove next to Rebecca, Darius’s wife. Their group of friends tended to gather there after work, enjoying the shade of the wide-reaching oak trees and catching up with each others’ lives.

Rebecca flicked her long braids back over her shoulder, turning to him with a bright smile. “Hey you,” she said, and Chuck admired the pop of her golden-yellow eyeshadow against her glowing brown skin.

He leaned in and gave her a hug. “Hi,” he said. “How have you been?”

“The salon is busy,” she said, pulling back. Rebecca owned her own beauty salon in the trendy, downtown neighborhood of Cannonborough. “Maggie’s working with us on her off days.” Rebecca nodded behind the bar, where Maggie wiped glasses while talking animatedly with Sage, David’s girlfriend. Sage was also working at the bar while getting her teaching certificate and coaching a high school boys basketball team. “Maggie’s really good,” Rebecca went on. “She’s going to be a great addition to the team if I can convince her to stick around.”

“Saw the Nationals results,” Keaton called out from across the table, reaching out a closed fist for Chuck to bump. “Nice work on the relay.”

“Thanks, Keats. They were unreal,” Chuck agreed, returning the fist bump. “Took three seconds off their PR.”

Keaton whistled. “Impressive. Nicely done, coach.”

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