Learning to Swim(35)

I rode my bike to Crab Beach, took off my clothes, and waded in until the warm water was up to my waist.

I wished that at that moment I had plunged in and glided gracefully out to sea, but the truth of the matter was, I was too scared to try to swim by myself. So I backed up and sat down, the water rising to my shoulders. I stayed there until the sun set and I thought I felt something slimy touch my arm. And then I jumped up, put my clothes back on, and rode home, thinking, I'm not my mother.

At least not yet.





14


Ways to handle a cheating man:

Toss a drink in his face and walk away. (From the way Barbie described it, the merlot debacle was the harshest thing anyone had ever done to her, which is why I thought it was cool.)



Make a big public scene in which you accuse him of infidelity at the top of your lungs. (Which will pretty much assure that you'll never see him again.)



Cheat on him. (What's good for the goose is good for the gander, whatever that means.)



Drop him.





If someone had forced me to choose, I would have preferred number one followed by number two. But unfortunately, none of these options really fitted my predicament. Because technically, Keith wasn't cheating on me. He was cheating on Mora. And even that was a huge leap in logic because we hadn't done anything but swim (sort of) and hold hands.

So I really didn't know what I was going to do when, the very next morning, he walked right up to me (when I was polishing the brass railing in the main lobby) with a big smile on his face as if everything was totally cool and nothing weird had happened whatsoever.

“Hey,” he said cheerfully.

Even though he was looking amazing as per usual (red swim trunks + white T-shirt + flip-flops + shiny whistle dangling around the neck = very, very sexy), his entire demeanor unnerved me. Wasn't he supposed to feel the slightest bit guilty for leading me on?

“Sorry I had to cancel yesterday. Do you want to get together tonight?” he asked.

I could feel my willpower fading, but I shook my head and continued polishing. “I can't.”

“Oh.” He scratched his head. “All right. How about tomorrow?”

Suddenly, a little voice in my head started talking and it was saying things like: Maybe he wasn't really making out with Mora. Maybe you didn't see what you thought you saw. Maybe he was giving her CPR or something.

“Sorry, Keith, I'm busy,” I forced myself to say. No way. I was not going to believe any of the ridiculous excuses I was so willing to provide. Why would Mora need CPR in the woods?

“What do you mean ‘busy’?” He sounded annoyed.

“I mean I can't, so just… leave me alone,” I said quickly, before turning away and sprinting into the girls’ locker room, where Alice was more than ready to give me a big bear hug.

“Well, I did it,” I whispered. “I dropped him.” And then I burst into tears, because getting over love lunacy hurts really, really bad.

I managed to avoid Keith for the rest of the day, which drained me of every single bit of energy and resolve. I wasn't sure if I had the strength to stay away from him. I hated to admit it, but I was starting to understand why my mother wanted to move every time a relationship ended. I didn't think I could handle seeing Keith with Mora again. If it hadn't been for Alice and the fact that Keith was leaving to go back to college soon, I would've yanked out the map of Maryland and done the finger drop myself.

After work, I rode home. As I pedaled into our apartment parking lot, I caught sight of Keith's black Lexus. There he was, waiting for me on the steps, appearing very out of sorts. I tried to walk right by him, but he grabbed me by the wrist and I stopped in my tracks.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

I swallowed hard and kept quiet.

Keith sighed in frustration. “Stef, what's going on?”

“What do you mean?” I wasn't trying to be coy, really. But I was stuck in panic mode and I couldn't think of anything else to say.

He glanced away. “You didn't strike me as the type to play games.”

Excuuuuse me? Wasn't that the pot calling the kettle black? “Look,” I said. “I just can't do this.”

Keith's eyes fixed on mine. “Do what?”

“This,” I said with a shrug. “Talking to you and, well, being with you.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if he was protecting himself or something. “Why?”

“Because I don't want to be the other woman. It's not fair to me.”

“I don't want you to be the other woman either.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. I could feel my heart twisting into a fisherman's knot. Here I was, spending all this time thinking Keith was into me, when in actuality, he obviously thought of me as his first cousin. “I thought that when you held my hand last night, that meant you were, well, interested.”

Keith's lips turned up into a smile. “But I am interested.”

Whoa. This was huge. He'd just admitted to liking me-liking me. But wait, didn't he remember that other-woman thing?

“Keith, I'm interested too, but I can't have all these heart-to-heart talks and stuff and then watch you make out with your girlfriend,” I said firmly. “It's just… weird.”