Back at the hotel, I decide to head for a swim. When Oliver and I would swim together, I'd imagine we were fish in a never ending lake. I'd imagine us there forever; never leaving each other's side. Imagining he'd never leave made things easier in the moment. Though the repercussions of temporary contentment aren't nearly as forgiving.
By the time I step into the pool room it's 10 at night. No one else is there, and though I hoped Oliver might be here, I'm sort of relieved to be alone. The quiet comforts me. I haven't truly had a moment to myself since I arrived, so a moment to stop and think makes sense.
I sit at the edge of the pool to rest my legs in the water. Light pricks cover my legs in goose bumps from the cold, and a deep sigh escapes me. I've always enjoyed the silence. Maybe I'm a bit of a loner, but the peace is irreplaceable. Long nights by our pool in Italy just writing music and watching the stars started with Oliver, and I never stopped when he was gone. I kept going back. I even went there in the dead of winter one night just to close my eyes and pretend he was there with me. Most of the time I would feel worthless after; how miserable do you have to be to hang on to an old flame to such an extent?
As the water pulls my body temperature down to it's level, I decide a swim could help clear my head. A push from my palms off the granite and my body becomes submerged in a new realm of existence. I keep my eyes open, letting the bleach burn them softly, just to see how the lights overhead reflect in shards of color. Each reflection dances in a circle, almost as if they were performing some sort of ritual. It feels heavenly paired with time slowing down and the waves capturing my movements. Nothing is in motion. Everything on my body lifts as if gravity were disproved. Even my hair contorts in random directions. At the surface the bubbles that rise from my face look like small fish rising to feast; prancing around the shards of light as if it could slice through them. The moment is ecstasy; but the bubbles cease and so does the silence. With my head above water I gasp loudly, hoping no-one came in between me sinking down and surfacing. A light cough escapes me as I turn, and it echoes through the room; empty. Twisting and turning, I kick my legs to float up on my back, letting my ears succumb to the pressure of the water. The silence begins again allowing me to escape my own existence. I close my eyes.
Some people I've met in my life have described the next moment to me from experience. I never quite understood to the fullest, and a part of me never wanted to. Another part of me knew it came with the life. I ignored the news. I ignored the signs. I ignored the advice of- well everyone.
My fingers feel hot and slippery, so I look and all I see is red, and I wish I could say from the body rushing to warm them. My first thought is my infamous nose bleeds have made an untimely return, but when I touch my other hand to my nostrils they come back clean.
Then I taste it. The iron on my tongue.
For a moment I just stare at the ceiling motionless, letting the bleach wash what was on my hands away. I had a feeling that it would reach me at some point. The sleeping around in my earlier twenties was lazy and misguided. It could be something else, but blood had come from my cough. So, I'm now stuck with these ideas spiraling through my head. I feel every circumstance tell me to arch my back forward, letting the world disappear. I close my eyes, but deny the thought. Not here. Not now.
A muffled sound breaks through the water to my ear drums, and it startles me. I hike my head up, nearly going under, and swim up to the edge of the pool. "Hello?" I say towards a blue of the wall in front of me. The bleach is still burning my eyes making it impossible to see.
"Hey," Oliver's voice softens my defense, and I relax my cheek onto the granite side.
"It's you," relief runs through me like an injection, backed by a ping of uncertainty.
"Yeah," his voice is soft and comforting. I'm almost certain I fall asleep for a second with my head cocked against the tiled siding. "Are you okay? I haven't seen you all day."
"I looked for you," I mumble, not really finding the energy to converse, "I went to the fair with Angelica."
"Graceland's daughter? From the dinner?" he sounds amused, and I wonder why.
"You know her?" I lift my eyes to him, realizing his are unobtainable with the shades he's wearing. It's strange for him at such a time, yet I don't question. Whatever the reason, I'll eventually find out. At least I believe he would tell me. Sometimes certain secrets are best withheld though.
"Kind of; in a way," He points his head at me and smirks lightly. Kneeling down and with one hand, he pushes the wet curls obstructing my vision back into some form of sloppy pompadour. I feel like an extra in The Godfather.
I do a Don Vito Corleone voice, and squint my eyes like the movie, "Revenge is a dish best served..." with a dramatic pause I pull myself out of the water, grabbing Oliver's shoulders and wrapping my arms around them. I can hear him shouting some sort of resistance, but my laughing is too loud to distinguish any form of actual words. In a surprising victory, yelling the final word of the famous line, I yell as I push my weight to the pool surface, "COLD!"
