Me: You at the gym?
I step outside of the building. The skies are clear tonight, a coldness sweeping over the campus, making everyone hustle to their next location.
Paxton: OMW now. You in?
Me: Yeah.
The gym is nearly empty. There are periods where it gets too busy, the beginning of the school year, after the holidays, the start of a new sport’s season. I prefer these lulls when everyone has forgotten their goals, and I can navigate freely through the space.
“Hey,” Pax says, racking his weights.
“Arms tonight?”
He nods. “You?”
“I was going to run.”
Lincoln nods. “Derek’s been working on his speed.”
“Fuck Derek.”
Pax chuckles, lying back on the bench press. “Just wanted to throw it out there in case you needed some motivation tonight.”
“Hey, so, I ran into Raegan today.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You know how she’s going to my Dad’s wedding so she can meet that scientist guy she was geeking out about?”
Pax expels a breath as he lifts the weight. “Yeah?”
“She said she’s not sure she wants to meet him anymore. Said she’d be wasting his time because she doesn’t know she wants to do cetology anymore.”
The bar clangs as Paxton racks it again, sitting up so he can see me. “What?”
“She seemed off.”
Pax’s brow lowers as he shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen her lately. Hell, I’ve barely even heard from her.” He blows out another breath. “Did she say why?”
I shake my head. “We only talked for a minute. She had a class.”
Pax lifts a shoulder. “She’s probably just tripping out because finals are coming up. She’s always hated tests.” He lies back. “Dude, you should have seen the girl I banged last night. She was seriously hot, and she kept asking for things. I felt like I was starring in a porno.”
I don’t know what I’d hoped for or expected, but it wasn’t this easy blow off. I needed a reaction. For him to demand we talk to her and find out what in the hell is going on. To laugh and tell a tale about times she’s done this previously.
I dial up the speed and the incline. “She didn’t have her phone propped up, did she?”
He laughs between labored breaths. “Phones always go in a drawer. I’m not about to take that risk.” He continues telling me about something, random words dropping into my consciousness to confirm he’s still talking about having sex as my thoughts wander to Rae, working to recognize her demeanor.
10
Raegan
It’s still dark as I pull into the parking lot at the marina, the sky blooming with light shades of orange and blue, making the bottoms of the clouds appear like they’re glowing and the tops to look bulky and black. My heart beats unevenly in my chest as I grab my jacket from the passenger seat and open my car door. There are only two other cars here, Lois and Joel. They’re always here early when we go out, and today is no different. I wait a few minutes, allowing the heat from my car to soak into my body before I grab my heavy winter coat and hat and step out. I thread my arms through my jacket and zip it before pulling on my beanie and fishing my gloves from my pocket. The yard was frosted this morning, promising a freezing game tonight for Brighton’s football team.
I pull in a deep breath and slowly trudge forward, each step heavier than the last as I eye the ocean, feeling each wave lap at my neck, my chest, my face. They go higher the farther I get until it’s stealing my breath and drowning me. This is the first time I’ve been back since Maggie left, and the first time I’ve agreed to go out onto the Sound with the team of scientists.
I pause, my chest tight and my muscles even tighter. I reach for my phone to send a quick opt-out to Joel—another opt-out.
“Raegan?”
I turn, surprise nearly tripping me as Lois emerges from her car, wrestling her full-length coat and scarf. She slams her car door and hustles toward me. “It’s so good to see you. We’ve missed you.”
I consider one of the dozens of excuses I’ve made since being discharged for not coming out, ready to relay one to her, but then she’s hugging me, her lips pressed to my temple in a gesture that feels so maternal and loving I nearly weep. Mom’s still short with me, and I have no idea if it’s still due to my accident or if Dad has told her. Lately, it feels like I don’t know anything, and it’s left me with this sense of purgatory that has me begging for Hell so that I can get out of this stage. “How are you?” She holds me for another long minute before pulling back, her eyes searching my face, waiting for an answer—a real response rather than a fake one.
My eyes blur with tears that I quickly blink away. “I don’t know if I’m ready to get back out there.”
Lois nods, one hand still on my arm. “That’s understandable. You went through a lot.”
I’m freezing and yet too warm, regretting my timing and for running into someone I know when this moment—this decision—feels so personal. Though her sympathy and compassion are both a hundred percent authentic, I feel judged. Judgment for allowing fear to dictate my life, for taking someone else’s opportunity when every single volunteer at the aquarium would eagerly jump at this chance, for failing to be out there, studying the animals who I know still need advocacy from others—others like me who are willing and capable of doing it. If only she knew I have the opportunity to meet Dr. Swanson, a hero for those of us who follow his work.
“We understand, Raegan. We don’t expect you to get back out there.”
Expectation.
The word gets trapped in my thoughts, memories of earlier this fall when I confessed to Lincoln how many expectations I feel others have for me while others lack them entirely. In a matter of weeks, I went from having a complete setlist of expectations to a single one: keeping a secret for my father, a secret I selfishly wish I didn’t know because when I think about it for too long, I feel ill and everything seems like a lie.
“Give it some time.” She brushes the hair from my forehead, tucking it under the edge of my beanie. “There’s no rush.”
I nod. “I’m sorry.”
Lois shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Rest—mentally and physically. And when you’re ready, we’ll be here.” Her gaze is steady and sure, nearly impossible to hold because shame is creeping up my spine, using my body like a marionette.
I turn back to my car, distance relaxing my muscles as tears fall down my cheeks, each one chasing the last.
Mom’s car is in the driveway when I return home. It’s early enough, I’m surprised to see her car out of the garage.
I find her in the living room, her knitting needles in hand. She glances up from where she’s reading through a book propped in front of her, to me. “You’re back early.”
I don’t try to make a lie, knowing it won’t help the situation. Plus, the knitting is a guaranteed sign something is already taking up residence in her thoughts. “What are you doing? It’s Friday.” Usually at this point, she’s in the shower, getting ready for school.