5. NOPE

FIVE

NOPE

HARLOW

I wake up and my stomach’s already in knots. The whining of my alarm in the background is nagging, but my mind is caught between reality and the dream I was just having of me swimming at the last national race I won. I can still hear the echoes and faint roar of the crowd cheering for me so I close my eyes, drifting back into some disoriented version of sleep, and feel the lull of nostalgia rocking me back into my dreams.

My memories envelop me and I can’t escape how much I miss life before my injury. The last few weeks, while necessary, have been awful. Lennon and I don’t get to spend as much time together and I didn’t realize how much it’s affecting me until this last week when I was driving home from the rec and the silence in my car was deafening.

Lennon and I had this routine. We would wake up, make breakfast together—eggs and a smoothie for me, coffee and a breakfast sandwich for her—then sit in the living room and go over our days while we ate. We both had morning classes, so we would ride together to campus. After they were over, we’d head to the athletic center early to do a light jog around the indoor track before making our way into the locker room to change for swim practice.

Lenny does her best to remind me that this is temporary, and while she doesn’t contribute to the rumors and gossip, she also hasn’t made an effort to ask me about that night. I think she knows the physical hurt is enough and doesn’t want to add to any emotional hurt, but still, it would be nice if she asked.

The only person who has even remotely shown interest in how things might be affecting me is the lifeguard. Which is a train of thought I’ve been fighting. The few times I have though, left me in a state of heated disarray and confusion. Even now, the image of his face in my mind causes my heartbeat to move down between my legs.

NOPE .

I snap open my eyes and shut off my alarm. Swiping out of the screen, I go to the call button, deciding maybe it’s time I made the effort to let someone know I’m not doing okay and also, maybe to distract myself from thinking about that certain lifeguard.

There’s only one person fit for that job in this season of my life and that’s my older sister, Margot.

We’re just shy of five years apart and not only is Margot a good sister, it’s a blessing and a half that she’s also a licensed psychologist and therapist. She also attended Everson for undergrad and graduate school before moving to open her own counseling practice a few towns over. She’s struggled with some stuff of her own in the past so I actually feel like maybe she’d understand what I’m going through.

I’ve only talked to her once since everything happened. I pleaded with her to be the one to break the news to Dad about my injury and that I wasn’t going to be out for a few months. I knew he wouldn’t be upset with me, but I also didn’t want to risk hearing any disappointment from him either. Coach Bradford was more than enough.

The line rings once before I hear Margot’s chipper voice on the other line.

“Happy Tuesday, my little fish! How’s my favorite sister?”

A small chuckle leaves my lips, bringing a momentary lightness to my chest. “You only have one sister, Margot.”

“Well no need to squash the mood when the sun’s just come up. What’s going on though? You okay?”

I contemplate my next words. If I don’t choose them wisely, they’ll come out in a croak instead of the indifference I’m hoping for and she’ll try and psychoanalyze me or some shit.

“I think I’m just nervous. I have my first check-in with Coach Bradford today. It’s almost been four weeks of rehab practices and PT and, well, I just don’t feel very confident. I don’t know what he’s going to be looking for to measure my progress. Outside of my ability to not drown.”

This warrants a choking sound from Margot, as I assume she’s taking a sip of her signature morning matcha and trying to stifle her laugh.

“It’s fine, Mar, you can laugh.”

“Okay, well it’s not funny—you drowning. But obviously, yes, we know that isn’t going to happen because you can swim. He hasn’t given you any markers? Any sort of progress report?”

“No. I actually haven’t even talked to him since I told him I was injured back in the middle of August. He sent me off to the sports medicine clinic to make sure my shoulder was back in place and didn’t need surgery. I’ve been working with the athletic trainer, uh, Pierce? Pierce Harding?”

“Oh.” Her voice trails off.

“You know, he told me that my last name was familiar to him.”

“Yeah, I know him from when I went there.”

There’s an emotion to her voice that I can’t figure out but I don’t think now’s the time to ask.

“Anyways, he’s had me on a good schedule for practices and PT. I’d rather have my check-in today with just him but I guess Coach Bradford really is the only one who can give me the green light to start swimming with the team again.”

“Well, I say just go into it with an open mind. Where is it being held?”

“The rec center where I’ve been practicing. So I’m guessing he wants to evaluate my stroke and make an assessment based on that. I’ve been doing really well with my stretches and the other strokes, but I haven’t swam butterfly yet.”

“I see. I think you’re going to be okay, little fishy. But, just in case you don’t feel like you will be, I’ll text you some mindfulness practices I’ve been using with my patients lately. Keep you in the now, all that jazz.”

“I’d love that. Hey, I’ve got a pretty good team here. You and Pierce, helping me get through this.”

“Do not EVER lump me into the same category as that meathead.”

The edge in her tone catches me off guard, and while I don’t want to push, I can’t resist one more little nudge.

“I mean, he’s pretty hot…” I laugh into the phone as Margot huffs.

“Alright, I’m not entertaining this. You good? Because I do have an appointment coming up.”

“Yep, I’m good. Just ready to get back in the pool and put all this behind me.”

“Soon enough. But hey, be gracious with yourself.”

“I’m trying. Love you, sissy.”

“More.”

As the line clicks, relief begins to wash over me. Margot’s right. I know I’m making good progress and today should be a breeze. The moment of confidence ends as quickly as it began when I remember the Chi Kappa date party is tonight, and suddenly I’m pulling my pillow over my face, screaming as loud as I can into it.

I pull into the parking lot of the rec center and hop out of my Bronco before grabbing my bags and kicking the door shut behind me. Tucking my head down, I start to lose myself in thought when out of the corner of my eye, I see a truck coming and jump out of the way to avoid being run over.

“What the hell!” I shout, heat rushing into my cheeks when I realize that I wasn’t actually in any danger and just yelled at a stranger.

The truck pulls into a spot near mine and a voice rings out behind me.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

I turn to see the one and only lifeguard of my nightmares jogging towards me. My mouth dries up immediately and my heart starts to quicken. He makes it just a few inches in front of me before I realize I haven’t spoken or moved.

“Hey,” he reaches out and lightly rubs his thumb against my cheek. “Harlow. Are you okay?”

The touch of his skin on mine sends a spark down to my core, jolting me back into reality.

“No, I’m not fine. Please don’t touch me.” The words come out harsher than I intend.

He recoils his hand, then takes a step back. “Seriously, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I was even close to you but damn, you must have been really distracted.”

Squinting in disbelief, I look him over and realize he appears more disheveled than normal. Not that I take the time to assess how he looks, but it’s clear to me something’s amiss.

“Right… Well, slow down next time.” Hell will freeze over before I admit that he wasn’t anywhere near hitting me. I turn on my heels and make my way towards the rec, my ponytail swishing against my back. Then it dawns on me.

“Are y—Are you coming into work right now?” I spin back around.

Pool boy walks towards his truck, grabbing a backpack, before heading in my direction again. “Yeah, I am. Why?” He smooths out his clothes and it seems he isn’t prepared to be on shift right now.

A frantic feeling begins to course through my body. “You don’t usually work this hour. You… You shouldn’t be here.”

He cocks his head and one side of his mouth turns up into a subtle grin. “You have my work schedule memorized, Harlow?”

Hearing him say my name again sends shivers down my back. “No,” I refute quickly. “I just know that your shifts have overlapped with my practices so I assume that’s when you work.”

“Right,” he says, drawing out the word to let me know he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.

“I’m serious.” Putting my hands on my hips, I lift my chin up some to appear in control of the matter. “I just didn’t expect you to be here right now.”

“Well surprise. Once again, Harlow Sutherland doesn’t know everything like she thinks she does.”

“What does that even mean?” I shoot back at him, my eyes narrowing. “Huh? You think you know so much about me? Well you don’t. You know nothing about me. So while I might not know everything, neither do you.”

I storm off towards the rec center, fuming that he’s here right now. I know he watches me. I know he pays attention to me, and now I will be under his gaze while I meet with Coach Bradford for my first check-in. I don’t know which of the two I’m more unnerved by, but this is not the time to be distracted.

I turn the corner, pushing into the locker room. Another group of girls who seem to be leaving stop and look at me. Fear and concern flood into their eyes before they grab their stuff and rush out as if I just brought the plague into the room or something. I collapse onto the bench in the middle of the room and let my things drop to the floor. I’m so fucking tired of this judgment.

I finish putting my bags into the locker, then grab my towel, goggles, swim cap, and water bottle. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, recalling the little tip Margot sent me after we ended our call.

All she said I have to do is breathe in my intentions and breathe out my fears.

Taking a deep breath in, I think to myself, I believe I’m a successful swimmer .

As I exhale, I think to myself again, I release the fear I’ll never swim again.

I do this a few more times, repeating the same thoughts with every inhale and exhale, then make my way to the door. Cracking it open, I peer out and see Coach Bradford and Pierce already waiting for me on the bleachers.

I do another glance across the pool and see my least favorite lifeguard getting adjusted on his stand. Why am I so nervous that he’s here? This should be like any other practice I’ve had in the past, minus the fact I’m currently injured. Whatever, I can do this. I just need to get myself out of this damn locker room.