Page 32 of Our Moon
I freeze when I hear the bedroom door open. Heavy footsteps make their way through the apartment, and I hear the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing. I exhale. Finally.
I remove the pillow from my head and roll over to face the room. My mother is sitting at the kitchen table in her flimsy robe, smoking a cigarette. Her normally pale face is flushedand she has dark circles under her eyes. She’s only thirty-two, but she already has wrinkles by her eyes–they’re not the happy laugh-line ones, either. They’re the results of too much smoking, drinking, and drugs.
“I have fifty dollars here for you to get some groceries on your way home from school tomorrow,” she says, not even looking at me. She must have heard the sheets rustle.
“Fifty bucks? Is that all you’re worth?” I know I shouldn’t disrespect my mother, but she’s never done anything to earn my respect. Yeah, she didn’t abort me, and she gives me a roof over my head and the occasional meal, but I’ve never felt loved or wanted, and that is more important.
“Don’t sass me, boy,” she spits out. She stubs out her cigarette and stomps off to her room. Moments later, I see the light go out. She didn’t even shower.
I vow in that moment that I will never be like her. I will never be like the despicable men she has parading through here. I will never use sex the way that they do.
I squeeze my eyes closed tight, willing the memories to go away. One day I will get out of this place. One day. That’s the last thought I have before drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
As usual, we all spend most of our free time in the summer at the Monroes’ pool. Ally is like a fish in the water. She participates in both the short- and the long-course seasons for a local swim club, so she’s pretty much swimming all year round. When things went down with Blake and she was really upset, she stopped attending practice for a few weeks. Her mother eventually intervened and got her back on track. She has won many awards, so the coaches welcomed her back to the team. Now Ally’s making up for it by swimming double the laps she usually does. I like seeing her focused and determined again, especially after that dark post-Blake period.
Tonight we’re all attending one of Ally’s swim meets. It’s at an indoor community pool not too far from the Monroes’ house. The place looks like a barn from the outside, complete with a red and white paint job, and inside it reeks of chlorine. There are giant ventilation fans humming near the ceiling to keep the air circulating, but I don’t think it’s working.
This is my first time attending one of these things, and my initial thought once I get inside, apart from the chlorine, is that the pool is massive. It looks to be about half the size of a football field and I am momentarily awe-struck by the fact that Ally swims that. I’m not in bad shape, I use my body a lot for work, but I think I’d pass out if I even attempted to do that.
Mr. and Mrs. Monroe lead us to our seats--bleachers alongside each wall, running parallel to the swim lanes. Trevor, Alex, Joey, and I settle in the back row, garnering some attention from surrounding females. Alex and Joey eat it up, while Trevor and I continue to take in our surroundings.
“I can’t believe Ally swims in that,” I say to Trevor.
“Wait ‘til you see her, she moves so damn fast.” He’s completely cheesing, got the whole big brother thing going on right now.
“When is she up?” I ask, eager to see her in action. I’ve seen her swim in her pool, butthat’s small. She’ll barely be a blip on the radar in this pool.
“The 400 meter is third,” Trevor answers, looking at the program.
“400?” I ask, my eyes wide. “How many times is that?” I gesture back and forth down the lanes.
“Eight,” he says nonchalantly.
Eight?Ally swims that eight times?
“And then the 800 is fifth.”
“What?” I did the math, that’s sixteen laps. “She’s going to do twenty-four laps, total, in this pool?”
Trevor grins, “And she’s going to win, too.”
Holy shit.
About fifteen minutes later, a group of younger-looking kids take the platforms and do the 100 meter and 200 meter events. Ally is in the second heat for the 400 meter, which consists of the older age group, and it’s next. Trevor is still studying the program, Joey and Alex are scoping out girls, and Mr. and Mrs. Monroe are speaking with other parents. I think I’m the only one currently bouncing in my seat, waiting for Ally to come out.
They call her group and everyone starts paying attention. Mrs. Monroe and Alex loudly cheer for Ally as they walk out. All the swimmers are dressed in identical black one-piece bathing suits and those cap things on their heads, so it takes me a moment to locate her. She’s in the fifth lane and she is in the zone, staring straight ahead and practicing her breathing.
I’m trying not to check her out, to not think about her in that way, but it’s difficult. She’s in a bathing suit for crying out loud; and her curves that are normally covered by jeans and band t-shirts are right there for everyone to see. Yeah, I’ve seen her in a bathing suit before, but not when she’s in her element like this. She’s so confident, I’d be lying if I say it isn’t attractive.
Wait a minute…since when am I attracted to Ally? What the hell is that about?
The announcer says some stuff I barely pay attention to–since I’m too busy wondering why the sight of my best friend’s little sister is suddenly turning me on–and then the buzzer sounds and she’s off. I’m instantly at the edge of my seat, watching her move under the water, one lap already down. She has amazing speed and she’s at least a body-length ahead of the next competitor.
The six of us are standing and cheering as she completes her final turn. She’s ahead by two body lengths now and she’s absolutely going to win. It’s exhilarating, and I’m not even the one racing. She taps the wall and our cheers are even louder than before.
Ally pulls her goggles off her head and looks up at the scoreboard, smiling broadlywhen she sees her time and position. She lifts herself out of the pool and receives hugs from her teammates and coaches. Finally, she turns to where we are standing on the bleachers, smiles and waves.
