I try to imagine it, it’s all just blurry.
“Yeah, I guess.” My brain wants to go to places I don’t want it to go. Fictitious places where Chloe and I had a future. Kids. I shut that train wreck down real quick. I need to keep my brain occupied with something else. “So, is this what you do for a living? Paintings like this?”
She shakes her head. “No, this is just a fun project and something I’ve been wanting to do for a while. Professionally, I illustrate children’s books.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” The corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles. It’s new, something my brain stores away.
“Do you like it?”
“I do.” She exhales loudly. “There’s just something about creating a whimsical world for kids that fascinates me. Their minds are so pure and beautiful, and I love being able to add my pictures to them. In a small way, I help shape the way they see the world. There are so many terrible things going on everywhere around the globe. To be able to create something for them to escape to is special to me.”
This. This is the Chloe I know, the Chloe I lo—
Nope, not going there.
“That’s amazing. I’m so glad you were able to do what you love. And you’re so good at it too.” And I mean it. Her work is amazing, always has been. I don’t think there was a medium she picked up that she didn’t turn into something magnificent.
Art is in her blood, like swimming is in mine.
Only I seem to have lost my spirit. Or whatever the hell has happened.
“Thank you. That means a lot. I’m just glad I get to do what I’ve always wanted to do. I know not everyone’s that lucky.” After a few more brushstrokes, she takes a step back to inspect her finished design. It’s perfect, almost too perfect, like it could glide out of the painting at any second. “How about you? Will you participate in another Olympic Games?”
Well, isn’t that just the million-dollar question?
“Not sure yet.”
“Really?”
This time I feel her eyes on me, but I keep my gaze forward to finish the next clownfish. “Yeah. We’ll see.”
I don’t feel like talking about it because there isn’t much to say.
All I know is that I just don’t feel it anymore.
Swimming never used to be a thing I did, it was a part of me. But now, it has become a thing, and I don’t know how to handle it, or if I’m even equipped to handle it. Because what happens if I don’t . . . if I can’t? Because so far, I haven’t done a very good job, it seems.
Chloe clears her throat. “Oh and by the way, before I forget it.”
This time I turn her way.
“I was going to talk to you about it sooner, but since I didn’t see you all week . . .” She scratches her neck. “Anyway . . . about tomorrow, you don’t have to come. At all.”
Tomorrow? What’s she talking about?
My confusion must show on my face because her cheeks turn red.
“I meant lunch at my mom’s.”
Oh shit, I totally forgot about that. Or rather, I’ve blocked it from my thoughts as much as I could. “Oh yeah. What about it?”
“You don’t have to come. Really. I’ll make up an excuse for you. My mom shouldn’t have pushed you into it like that.”
“What if I want to come?” What the heck?
“Do you?” Her eyebrows lift as she looks at me expectantly. It’s still the same you can’t fool me look she’s given me about a million times in my life.
I nod. Of course, I don’t. I mean, I do.
Might as well bathe in my misery. “Sure, why not? Your mom’s a fantastic cook, and I’ve always liked your parents, you know that.”
She winces, and her whole face crumbles in front of me. The color drains from her skin before she gazes down, hiding as much of her from me as possible. “Mmm, about that. My dad. He . . . he died last year.”
What?
Fuck. No.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t, but thanks.” Her voice cracks, barely able to push out the words as she continues to stare at the floor.
Shit. I feel like a total dick.
I quickly put down my supplies, grab her, and pull her against my chest.
She loved her dad so much. I can’t imagine the pain she’s experienced.
Our hug isn’t very close. I don’t crush her to me as tightly as I used to,