Page 52 of Breathing Under Water

“Yes, I do,” he says after a moment. “If I sell my things and people pay me money, the money would be mine to use how I want, right? The same as when the YMCA pays me?”

“Yes, of course.” I’m sure he’s thinking about his long wish list of aeronautical items.

“Can you have a yard sale if you only have four items to sell?” he asks.

“Depends, I guess. What would you want to sell?”

“The HS720.”

That was the first drone we bought him, right after he started high school. He’s long since upgraded to bigger, fancier products thanks to the money he earns at the Y.

“And the prop guards and landing gear,” he continues. “And the LEGO NINJAGO set I forgot to give to Sebastian before he left.”

“Usually tag sales have more to choose from. If they have just a few items to sell, people often use the internet instead. Like shopping online, but the reverse.”

“I don’t have anything else to sell at a garage sale yet. I don’t think we should have a garage sale. Online is a superior choice.”

All the better, since I don’t have the bandwidth to take on a single additional obligation at the moment.

We climb out of the car and head inside. Despite my sister’s aggressive encouragement, I still haven’t gotten Phil alone yet to demand answers from him.

When I walk into the kitchen, he’s sitting at the table with his laptop open.

“Leo was in quite a hurry to get upstairs,” he says with a question in his voice, waiting for me to tell him why.

I’m sure Leo’s gone off to figure out how to list items for sale online, but all I offer Phil is “Yup.”

At my clipped response, Phil shrugs and turns back to his computer screen.

Now is the time. I should just dive in.

But I’m afraid.

Once we really have this conversation, I won’t be able to unknow whatever I find out. After all my time pining for answers, I’m no longer sure I want them.

Stalling as I try to find that nerve I had the other day with Yvonne, I pull out my phone and check my email.

Underneath some promotional junk and a message from Neil that I am not dealing with now, there’s a message from Karyn that I swipe instead. She wants to know if Leo would like to join one of the indoor swim groups at the Y.

“Karen’s offering to let Leo swim at the Y, but do you think they’d let him student-teach?” I ask Phil, my habitual eagerness for his opinion overriding my urge to pretend he’s invisible.

“No harm in asking,” he says, twisting in his chair to look back at me. “But you might want to make sure they’ll give him actual responsibility, not just pay him lip service.”

After the way McKenna offered Leo so much control over their lessons, fake or superficial duties would just feel demeaning.

“You’re right. I’m going to write Karyn, see what she says.”

“Good call. I’ll be curious to hear how she responds.” Phil nods at me, giving me a little extra encouragement, and I realize thisis the most collaborative conversation he and I have had about Leo, about anything, in many weeks. It hits me then how much I miss him. I don’t know this man he’s become recently, and I want my husband back.

I can’t put it off any longer. I need to know why he’s continued to pull further and further away from me, acting like only the worst version of himself.

Walking closer to him, I search his face for clues. The shadows under his eyes are still dark, and his skin looks a little papery. But mostly he just looks like himself. I feel so sad knowing that whatever has been going on, something has been lost between us.

“Do you have cancer?” I blurt out.

He rears back like he’s been smacked.

“Cancer? What are you talking about?”