Swimming is something I do to clear my head. I like the feeling of the bubbles streaming out my nostrils as I exhale. I like clawing my way through the water, reaching for something. I tap the wall, and my head breaks free of the water; drops stream down my face and bead on my eyelashes as I hold onto the ledge. I notice his tan feet and hairy shins first, then gradually the rest of him. Xavier looms over me like some painted statue of Achilles; his short golden curls press his scalp, damp with water. Some sort of thick black belt wraps around his waist.

I force myself to smile. "Didn't know you swam here."

"It's a decent place," Xavier says, jumping into the pool and splashing me. He disappears beneath the water; my chest tightens as I wait for him to surface. He doesn't. People swim in other lanes, focused on the goal ahead of them. A group of women chat by a wooden bench, towelling their hair. I hear time ticking in my chest. He should be up by now.

I feel something hold my ankle. Some monster's claw has emerged out of a portal and tries to pull me down to its level. When it succeeds, Xavier hugs my waist; his dark unprotected eyes are wide open despite the harsh chemicals that surround us.

Xavier's lips curl into a smile as we float in place. He presses his lips to mine, reminding me of the past, but I hadn't gotten a chance to breathe before he pulled me under. Panic fills my veins as a scream fills my chest, working its way up my throat. I try to push him away, but he holds me, determined to take me down to hell with him. He feels like a heavy weight, pulling me down towards the ground. Bubbles leak out my lips; I am no longer swimming but drowning. I need air badly. I crave it.

I reach for the surface, trying to grasp something, but I'm trapped beneath the water.

As my air runs out, I try to breathe, and liquid fills my mouth, throat, and lungs. My head becomes heavy as we sink. My vision beneath my goggles starts to blur, and I surrender to the dizzy feeling that is beginning to take me over.

Xavier lets me go, and I rise slowly as he unhooks his belt. I use the little strength I have to swim to the surface, pull myself free of the water, and onto the ledge. My body feels foreign, heavy, and cumbersome. I roll across the tiles, or rather, fall onto my back and stare at the glass ceiling overhead. The pool water in my lungs is choking me. I inhale, but something is blocking the air from entering. I choke. Liquid leaks out my nostrils as I gasp.

Xavier climbs out of the pool and crouches near me. He looks beautiful, almost glowing in the rays that filter through the skylight. His lips move as he calls to someone, but the sound muffles. I still feel like I'm underwater. My ears are plugged, and my body feels like it is floating away from me.

***

I lie in a hospital bed; oxygen works its way into my body through tubes that plug my nose. I faintly remember the ambulance ride, the flashing lights and the surprised faces of people leaving the community centre. I remember the paramedics wheeling me into the emergency room and the chaotic flurry of activity before things settled down.

Xavier sits by my bed in a wheelchair meant for me to use once I'm feeling better. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Shitty. Like I swallowed nearly half the pool." An uncomfortable sensation fills my stomach as the filthy water slushes around my tummy. The doctor enters the room, checks my lungs with his stethoscope, and then exits, murmuring that he'll be back in a few minutes.

Xavier pokes my cheek. "We never agreed that you could date someone else." He pauses, frowns, and then adds, "You didn't write to me once while I was in the army. I waited for a letter week after week, and nothing came." His eyes seem teary, and I hope he doesn't cry. The last time he cried, I froze and betrayed him.

Knowing he would be pissed if I said sorry again, I say, "I was ashamed."

"Why?"

"Of letting you take all the blame back then; I thought I didn't deserve to see you again."

He smiles and reaches over to brush the hair away from my eyes. "Whether I want to see you again or not, that is for me to decide."

I nod as he holds my hand, and our fingers interlock. He kisses my knuckles. "It's good to see you again." The twinkle in his eyes tells me he means it.

***

In the evening, after the doctor decides I'm healthy enough to leave, I go to a memorial park, but not because I know anyone there. It is lovely to sit on the grass, watching fallen autumn leaves sweep past. The erect headstones are my solitary companions. They are quiet. Good company. They don't shout at me for doing something wrong and give me room to think. I draw my knees to my chest and glance at the trees that crowd the back of the lot, guarding the dead and living alike. Heavy footsteps hit the pavement as someone jogs through the cemetery. I pay them little attention till they divert from the path and approach me. I raise my head to get a better look at them.

Blake strides over to me, his countenance switching from annoyed to mildly displeased. His long hair settles on his shoulders. Sweat darkens the neck of his grey sweatshirt as he spits, "You saw him again, didn't you?"

Blake sits next to me, stretches his long legs across the grass and reads the headstone next to him. "You'll never find a skeleton as sexy as me." His lips curl into a slow smile. He lets the silence paint us, mixing with the golden rays that brush our skin. His flat palms press the earth as he leans back on his hands and sighs. "You still love him, don't you?"

"A little." My heart twists itself into knots whenever I think of Xavier.

"I wasn't joking earlier when I said you should date someone who treats you properly. Someone who cherishes you."

"But how do I find that person?"

Blake stares at me and slides his hand over till it covers mine. "Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith."

"I hate jumping without knowing for certain that something will be there to catch me."

"Someone will catch you." He says it with absolute certainty, as if he can see the future.

"I disagree."

"What's so good about Xavier anyway? What attracts you to him? All I see when I look at him is a dick with two legs and bulging eyes."

Though I can't help laughing at his description of Xavier, I manage to say, "He loves me."

"Other people love you, and you still keep them at a distance, so...."

"He was the first to love me, and a chunk of my heart will always belong to him."

Blake snorts as if it is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard me say.

I imagine the ghosts of the dead, listening to our conversation, sighing and thinking, 'How nice it is to be young.'

"He wasn't the first one to love you." Blake stands and offers his hand. "Let's go home. It's unhealthy for the living to spend too much time with the dead."

I grasp Blake's hand, and he pulls me to my feet, steadying me with a hand on my back. We leave the quiet graveyard behind and find a café in the heart of the city. Amber light warms the frosted glass windows. Blake pulls the door open and chooses a table close to the side wall. "Wait here." He goes to place our order.

***

A few minutes later, he returns with four stacked pancakes covered in chocolate chip ice cream and syrup. He cuts a piece of the fluffy treat, places a spoonful of cream on it and tries to feed me.

I hesitate, thinking of my diet. I am four weeks in, and my abs are looking toned. My face is nice and chiselled. But the sad child crying inside me reaches for the treat. He knows we should close our doors to Xavier, but it's hard to break away from something you're addicted to.

I open my mouth and accept Blake's present. The pancake is oily but soft, and the ice cream melts on my tongue. The child stops crying for a little while, rubs his tummy in delight.

Blake smiles, watching me eat. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"It was back in Year Ten. You wanted to audition for the school's talent show, but you can't sing, so you asked me to sing for you."

"You were in the school choir," he says, chuckling, "And I remember listening to your solo and thinking that you were really pretty."

"Pretty?" I don't know how to feel about his compliment. My face warms as I think back to my embarrassing teen years and how cruelly the other kids in the choir had become after learning of my parentage.

"Pretty," Blake repeats with a solemn nod. "Honestly, I think a bunch of guys in our school were secretly attracted to you, which made them hate you even more."

"Really?"

Blake sighs, rakes his hand through his hair and says, "Forget I said anything; I was just thinking aloud. Let's eat." He cuts a piece of the cake for himself, tastes it and murmurs, "So freakin' oily. Why do you like this place?"

"The extra grease is good for your heart."

"Is that so?"

"It tastes good, doesn't it?"

Blake shrugs and murmurs, "At this point in our life, I have come to accept that your taste buds are different from everyone else's."

***