Page 73 of How to Hide in Plain Sight
“That’s not true.”
“But it is. You neverneededus, any of us. That’s why your mother and I were so shocked when you told us about the…the thoughts. You never gave us any reason to think you were suffering. You always seemed…I don’t know…content. Happy, even.” He sighed. “Shows you how much I know about being a father.”
“Don’t say that, Dad. How could you have known?”
He looked at me head-on. His wispy blond hair blew across his forehead. But I could see his eyes, the same eyes staring out from my own face. They looked helpless in a way I’d never seen before.
“No, Eliot.” The words rolled out in a tight knot. “How could Inothave known?”
—
“TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT,” Iinstructed.
“Excuse me?”
Manuel and I had decided to go for a sunset swim. After our moment while filleting fish…I don’t know. Something had shifted between us.
We stood on the floating dock, which held two days’ worth of vacation debris: goggles, flippers, frisbees, water skis, inner tubes, sunscreen. Off in the far corner, there were two concrete blocks and a long coiled chain—supplies to make a new anchor for one of the water trampolines. Next to all the brightly colored fun-time gadgets, the concrete looked oddly menacing.
“You heard me,” I said.
“Okay, then,” said Manuel, and he obliged.
“Where’s your phone?”
“On the kitchen counter,” he said through folds of cotton. “Why? Do you want to take a picture of my hot—”
“Spectacular,” I said, then shoved him into the water.
He reemerged with a splash and a sputtered, “What was that for?” I scooped up two masks and tossed one to him. He caught it before it could sink. Still standing on the dock, I pulled back the plastic strap on mine and snapped it onto my head.
“You look like the fish we caught today,” he said.
“Shut up.”
We spent a full hour in the lake that evening. Once we were in, I wondered why I hadn’t spent the entire vacation there. The water was so clear you could see twenty feet in every direction. A school of smallmouth bass lingered under the dock. Manuel swam beneath it and they all scattered, darting away in one terrified mass. We swam to the bottom and looked for bright pops of color that indicated lost frisbees and tennis balls. Manuel took my hand underwater and pulled me over to the rocks, where we inspected vast swaths of zebra mussels—the prolific, invasive clam shells with razor-sharp mouths that coat every inch of rock deep enough to be protected from waves and ice. We held out our hands to the zebra mussels, then pulled them back, then forward, then back, and watched the shells open and close their tiny mouths as we did.
After snorkeling I hauled two inner tubes into the water. We floated atop the surface, letting the warm evening wind roll across our bodies. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Only a few moments later, I heard a splash off to the side. “Hey!” I yelled, opening my eyes just in time to see Manuel leap from his tube and tackle the side of mine, sending us both back into the drink.
Finally, pumped full of energy and a long-forgotten giddiness,we swam out to one of the water trampolines, where we bounced for a few minutes, then did synchronized backflips off the side. Our bodies sliced into the waves, plummeting as one toward the bottom—just like they used to. When we tired of flips, we collapsed onto the trampoline. Its webbed mat was older than we were; it sagged beneath our bodies. In the air above, a cormorant traced wide circles with its wings.
We didn’t talk. It had been a long time since I’d lain out on the water with Manuel, nothing else pulling at our time.
As kids, my siblings and I played King of the Hill out here, a game that involved shoving each other off the trampoline as hard as possible, bodies flopping into the water, until only the victor remained. As the youngest, I never won, but Henry, lithe and nimble, knew how to use his small size to his advantage. He bobbed and weaved beneath the long legs of his brothers, tripping them at the knees rather than using brute force.
The cormorant gave up flying. It landed in the lake with a great splash. The waves swallowed all its body but the head. They have these gorgeous, whip-thin necks, cormorants. Long but muscular. It bobbed gently on the waves.
Manuel’s fingertips brushed the back of my hand. He turned his head to face me. “What are you looking at?”
I felt daring that evening. Maybe even a bit crazy. I was so confused by the competing emotions within me, the urges in different directions, but that evening in the water…it had been so nice. It felt just like our friendship used to feel.
Rather than answer, I turned onto my side, rolling until my nose was just millimeters from Manuel’s. He stared back at me. The trampoline undulated beneath our bodies. If I wanted to kiss him, all I’d have to do is close the gap, to move forward just a breath. I felt him suck the air between us and hold it inside.
That was the first time I thought it. The first time I really allowedmyself to think:Maybe I’ve been a fool. Maybe this is where I was supposed to be all along.
“What are you doing?” he whispered. His words smelled like freshly cut cedar.
“This,” I whispered, leaning in.
