Page 50 of Written in the Oceans

With our stomachs full and lids heavy from a settled food coma, he’s driving in the direction of my house. As exhausted as I am from the day, I’m not really ready to end the night. His car gets closer to my house, and I start to recognize the streets and landmarks that I use to find my way home on a daily basis. And then an idea pops into my head.

“Would you be willing to take a small detour?” I ask.

He turns to me, curious, with a single brow perked up. “What did you have in mind?”

“Just turn left on the third street down. On Odyssey,” I explain. “And then I’ll tell you where to go from there.”

He follows my directions, looking carefully at the street names and watching closely so he won’t miss the turns he’s supposed to take. After two more lefts and a curve into a residential area, we stop in the parking lot of the YMCA.

“This is it?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm,” I answer. I move first and step out of the parked car. He, too, exits and meets me at my side.

“The YMCA?”

“Mm-hmm,” I say again.

“You’re going to have to give me more than those ‘mm-hmm’s.’”

I smile at him. “I used to come here every summer up until I started junior high.”

I take his hand and lead the way towards the side entrance, just past the iron gates. I find the loose door that has a trick latch that never fully locks.

“And when my parents would pick me up,” I continue, unlatching the door using the finger trick that I learned years ago, “I would use this gate instead of walking all the way around to the line-up, and I found out that it had a few kinks.”

The gate finally clicks open and swings wide, creaking and hitting the wall behind it.

I tip my head towards the open gate and look at him. “Come on.”

I walk in, expecting him to follow, and when he doesn’t, I turn back to look at him. He hesitates, looking over his shoulder tentatively. His posture is stiff as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“It’s okay.” I try to reassure him, smiling coyly. “We’re only trespassing.”

He huffs awkwardly and smiles. I turn to walk back towards him and link my arm through his.

“I’ve done this a hundred times. We’re fine.”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Okay,” he says, finally surrendering.

We take a step towards the gate as Rhylan gently closes it behind him. He looks one last time beyond the empty lot before following me, and I lead him towards another door to a large building. The metal bar clanks as I push it down to open the heavy door. Before we even walk in, I can see the glistening lights bounce off the walls like a disco ball.

“It’s a pool,” Rhylan states.

“Mm-hmm,” I confirm. I step closer in, and Rhylan again gently closes the door behind him instead of letting it slam. He’s being cautious not to make any loud noises. I walk towards the deep end of the pool and lower myself to sit on the concrete before slipping off my sandals and dipping my feet in the cool water.

“Sit,” I say, smiling and patting the seat next to me. The water feels soothing, thawing the tension as it always has in the past. I lean back on my hands and close my eyes, inhaling the lingering scent of chlorine and moisture.

Rhylan saunters over and comes to a stop next to me. He slips off his boots one by one, using the other foot to unhook the heel, and rolls up his pant legs. He sits next to me and soaks his feet in the water, mirroring my movements. As the minutes pass, he relaxes. He swings his feet in the water, splashing and causing ripples that move towards the other end of the pool.

“You said you do this often?” he asks, his eyes focused on the water in front of him.

I nod. “It’s close to my house, so I used to ride my bike over here in high school before I started driving. I would sneak in here in the middle of the night. The water’s calming.”

“Ever jump in?”

“No!” I laugh.

“Why not?”

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