it’s because we don’t know enough. We need to know more.”
Only minutes before midnight, Logs unlocks the double doors to the pool at the university and lets himself in, grateful that Coach Graves entrusted him with a key years ago. “If you drown in there,” the coach had said with a smile, “I’ll tell them you lifted the keys from my jacket.”
Logs doesn’t turn on the overhead lights, knowing the glow from the exit signs and the maintenance room will cast enough light to see the end lines and the wall. He and Paulie are connected by water; both go there for solace and both go there to think. He stands on the starting block, breathes deep, and shoots out over the middle lane.
Paulie’s right. Something is off. He settles into a pace he could hold all night. Even at this age, Bruce Logsdon swims like most people walk. He could almost do this in the dark. He knows in his gut the number of strokes from one end to the other at any level of fatigue. The water is like a womb. It is safe.
As he flips in and out of his turns, he considers what he heard in Period 8 today. He’s always known there were stories, but hasn’t always known which ones belong to which student. He’s always surprised to see where rugged stuff lands.
I wouldn’t even know your name. Arney’s words to Bobby Wright. Absent the mindless shot Arney took at Bobby’s poverty, they could have been Logs’s words, or almost any other kid’s in the room. So many times the greatest pain slides in under the radar. He doesn’t judge himself by what he’s missed, but he’s aware it’s a lot. Probably this Mary Wells thing will blow over; a feasible explanation will reveal itself and time will pass. P-8 has yielded some unexpected intimacies over the years, but there was a feeling in that room today. For a brief moment, mortality raised its head among these kids, and it mined stories from a deeper lode.
While Logs cranks out laps over at the university pool, Paulie swamps out The Rocket restrooms, watching the wide-angle mirror for late-night university students pulling all-nighters or the occasional homeless person stepping in to get out of the cold, and feeling the fatigue brought on by a day that started with an early morning swim and is ending with a late-night shift. He is blessed with the part of his father’s DNA he welcomes—the ability to operate at pretty much full capacity on five hours’ sleep—but the stress of this day is taking its toll. He rolls the mop bucket and cleaning tools toward the back room, preparing to close out the till and lock up for the night, when the bell over the door jingles.
“Paulie Bomb.”
“Hey, Arney, what’s goin’ on?”
“Had a business meeting with some guys. I’m just headed home.”
“A business meeting. What kind of business meeting happens at midnight? And what high school kid has a business meeting any time? Man, Stack, you are a different kind of dude.”
“Ah, my old man wants me to learn about investing. Gave me some capital and the guys I’m working with had to meet late. Couldn’t fit my school schedule into their business day.”
“Must have been some capital,” Paulie says.
“If everything works out,” Arney says, “they’ll get a good return. Me, too.”
“I’m closing up,” Paulie says. “Got coffee in the thermoses, but nothing fresh.”
“No coffee,” Arney says back. “I thought you’d probably be here. Wanted to ask you something.”
Paulie stacks the bills in the lock box and opens the overnight safe. “Have to be real quick,” he says. “I’m beat.”
“What would you think if I started hanging out with Hannah?”
The bottom drops out of Paulie’s gut. He doesn’t answer.
Arney says, “You guys are done, right?”
“Hannah is.”
“I know it’d feel kind of funny, but we almost had something going when we were sophomores, back before you guys were—”
“It wouldn’t feel funny, Arney,” Paulie says. His eyes go cold. “It would feel shitty.” He picks up a thermos and walks it to the sink, removing the lid and dumping the last of the coffee. “But if you want to go out with Hannah and Hannah wants to go out with you, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He puts the thermos in the sink, runs hot water into it. “There’s nothing I should do about it.”
“I just don’t want—”
“Do whatever,” Paulie says. “I made this bed and I’m sleeping in it whether