Page 50 of Breathing Under Water

“Someone else?” I’m instantly filled with jealousy as I glance back toward the pool. Though practice is over, everyone’s still in the water, just chatting and horsing around. Which one of them is getting my spot?

A gentleness returns to Coach’s voice. Maybe he’s finally understanding how disappointed I am. “Rajiv Singh is starting tomorrow,” he explains, naming one of the seniors on the men’s diving team. I don’t know much about Rajiv, except that he supposedly has a great reverse pike. His impeccable form and chiseled jaw have been the subject of many conversations among my teammates.

“And I’m not going to be able to get you an extension on your community service,” he adds, as if he heard my earlier thoughts. “So you’d better figure that one out fast.”

I nod, knowing I now won’t be able to earn anything close to the amount of money I’d been hoping for this summer—not when I still have so many hours of service to complete, so many hours of practice each week, and a résumé suited mostly to low-paying jobs. I just have to hope Glory won’t accrue toomany extra expenses before I’ve secured the money to pay for them. I wonder again if I could move Glory to a less expensive facility, but then I remember the other homes I read about online, with their tiny rooms and neglected patients. I refuse to send my grandmother to a place like that. Once the house is sold, we should be fine, but I have no idea how long that’s going to take.

“I’ll talk to the committee myself,” I say. Surely if I explain what’s been going on with my grandmother, that I’m single-handedly responsible for her care, they might be flexible.

Coach’s eyebrows lower in response. “You have certain obligations, Sonny. Responsibilities. You’re already pushing the limit.”

Yeah, I know I have responsibilities. So fucking many. If there’s one thing I clearly understand here, it’s the nature of responsibility. I consider telling him about the binder, how Glory has left me with nothing but empty pockets and tidal waves of anger. But I know better than to show my vulnerabilities. It’s been drilled into me by every coach I’ve ever had.

“It’s part of being a superior student athlete,” he continues. “I always thought you understood that, but now, having watched you shirk your service requirement last semester and then start this mess at the club, I don’t know.” He studies me for another moment and then shakes his head in obvious disappointment. “I just don’t get what’s going on with you. All I know for sure is that you’d better turn this ship around or you’re going to be sorry. Trust me, nobody wants what’s best for you more than I do, but you keep getting in your own way. I’m not sure what kind of tough love you need to get back on the right path here, but let’s both hope we don’t have to find out.”

He turns away from me then, leaving me to suffer the hurt of his words alone.

I spend that entire afternoon at the mall, dropping my résumé with every retail store willing to accept it. Once I find a new job, I’ll figure out how to squeeze in the community service. I’m just walking out of American Eagle when I get a call from Bobby, the real estate broker.

“McKenna, I’ve got great news,” he says in his gravelly smoker’s rasp.

“Tell me.” I’m relieved to hear his enthusiasm. I don’t have room in my brain for any more negativity.

“The buyers I told you about, the young family? They just put in an offer at almost ninety thousand dollars over asking!”

I stop in my tracks, blocking the entrance to the store. “What? Why?!” Ninety thousand dollars is almost twenty percent more profit than I was expecting. With that kind of money, I’d have enough for Glory’s extra care and even some left over.

“They loved the house, and they don’t want to risk losing it to someone else.”

My chest fills with warmth thinking about a young family moving into the house. It softens the blow of having to leave, and I actually feel excited. That house isn’t just the place where my grandparents raised my mother. It’s also where Glory brought me back to life after we lost Mom, where she taught me to be resilient and to hold on to hope. The idea of another family creating happy memories in the place that sheltered my own family so well makes it feel bearable, even kind of right.

“That’s amazing. Tell them I accept the offer. Tell them yes!”

“There’s just one catch. One change they conditioned the deal on,” Bobby hedges.

“It’s fine,” I say, laughing with relief. “Whatever they’re asking for, they can have it.”

“They want to take possession in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” I balk. That’s no time at all. “But it’ll still be summer in two weeks.” I have very specifically told Bobby that I need to stay in the house until the school year starts again, when I can move back to the dorms.

“Right, I know, but it’s just a few weeks’ difference. Surely you can figure something out. Use some of the profit to rent an apartment for the month if you have to. You’ll certainly be collecting enough to do that.”

He’s right that it’s a huge profit, enough to cover so many different possibilities, and I’d be crazy to pass it up. I could probably stay with Lark and Rae for those few weeks, splitting the time between them so I don’t drive either of them too crazy. There’s no reason to waste the proceeds on renting a place when it’ll be such a short time. The situation is not ideal, but I really can’t argue with an extra ninety thousand dollars.

“Okay, let’s do it,” I say. “Let’s close this deal!”

Twelve days later, I’m standing in the middle of Glory’s front yard with the last remaining items from the house scattered all around me. Small items like lamps and vases sit on plastic tables, while a couple of larger pieces remain in the driveway. There are the bookshelves from the den, where Glory kept her collection of gardening books, and a paisley loveseat, which probablywasn’t even cool when Glory and Grandpa bought it a million years ago. The yellow paper tickets we affixed to each item wave in the afternoon’s light breeze, as if each piece is calling out to be chosen, carried away to another home to be loved. It makes me think of that line fromGrey’s Anatomy: “Pick me, choose me, love me!”

Lark and Amber are sitting at the folding table we’ve set up as a makeshift checkout counter. Rae and Anya are helping a heavyset man as he ties Glory’s chestnut dining table to the roof of his car.

I feel like a tennis ball is lodged inside my throat as I watch them finish up, one more piece of my childhood on its way to disappearing. When Rae suggested I sell off Glory’s belongings, I was initially reluctant, but it didn’t take long for me to realize how wasteful and expensive it would be to store all her things when nobody would be using them. Who knows how long it’ll be before I have a home of my own, not to mention whether I’ll even want her things by then. Rae recruited Amber to organize the sale, and before I knew it, more than half of my teammates were rallying around me, demanding to get involved. With so many girls willing to help, the idea of a last-minute yard sale suddenly seemed manageable, maybe even a no-brainer. Even so, as I watch the man and his little girl drive away with Glory’s table on their roof, it’s hard not to weep.

“Okay, ladies,” Rae says, bounding back toward me. “Let’s see if we can off-load these ceramic dishes on the next folks who show. Even if you sell them at ten cents apiece.”

Everything I’ve grown up with has somehow become almost worthless, and it’s nothing short of heartbreaking. Rae noticesthe expression on my face and says, “Oh, sweetie, I know it’s rough. Why don’t you go sit with Lark and count the money? Money makes everyone feel better.”

I laugh lightly at her words as another car approaches the house. When the vehicle comes to a stop along the curb, I realize it’s Leo and his mom. I feel a little burst of joy at the sight of Leo’s face through the window. I suppose I’ve been missing his frank questions and deadpan responses more than I realized.