Deep End

THIS WINTER QUARTER I’M TAKING THE LIGHTEST POSSIBLE academic load, to offset training and championship season travel, which is all going to happen between the end of February and May.

Pac-12.

Zone E meet.

If I qualify: NCAA.

It should feel overwhelming, but on the first practice after Amsterdam it just . . . doesn’t.

“I didn’t medal, which is disappointing,” I tell Sam during our catch-up session. I’m over my block, and there is no overt reason for me to continue therapy, but talking to her helps me put everything into perspective. “But I’m not going to let it define me. I’m excited about the season. I’m ready to be as strong as I can be.”

Sam smiles, which will never not look weird. “I’m very happy for you.”

“Sorry about Saturday night,” Pen tells me later in the locker room. “I felt bad about kicking you out. I just needed to talk to Lukas.”

“Everything okay?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know. The three of us, our relative positions, the sum of our degrees . . . I don’t want it to feel like a love triangle. And I don’t want to be left out when it flattens into a line.

“Yeah, I just needed him to know . . .” She looks vaguely upset, so I take a seat next to her. “It’s Theo. Hot Teacher.”

“Oh.”

“He broke up with me, Vandy.” Her voice cracks a little in the end. I stare, not quite processing.

“He . . . what?”

“He said that—I don’t know, something about how we needed to take a step back, because he wasn’t sure that we worked together, and that sometimes I felt too young for him, and . . .” Her eyes are bright with tears. “I mean, it’s fine.”

She looks anything but fine. “I’m so sorry, Pen.”

“I cannot believe that he just decided that it was over and left, like I’m a SoulCycle class. We spent Thanksgiving together. I met his sister and his friends, and he got me a necklace, and . . . I was at his place every weekend, Vandy. We did so many things, and now . . .” She shakes her head, somewhere between pain and anger. “Anyway. It’s over. I wanted to tell Lukas because . . . well. He’s still my oldest friend.”

My heart beats in my stomach. “And what did he say?”

“Nothing much. Said it was Theo’s loss. Patted my back. Told me I’ll find someone new soon. Nice, but distant. After Theo, I’d forgotten how cold he can be. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Lukas and I even managed to get together to begin with, all those years ago.”

Because he’s not distant. Or cold. “Have you ever considered . . .” I start.

“What?”

I gather my words. “He mentioned what you did for him when his mother passed. And he helped you out with Carissa.”

“Yeah?”

“Is it possible that you two mostly bonded over your respective trauma, and then entered a romantic relationship on the wave of that, without . . . ?”

Her eyes search my face for so long, I start wondering if I’ve overstepped. And maybe I did, because she lets out a small laugh, a little watery, and asks, “Are you saying he didn’t love me?”

“No. I know he did. And he still cares about you. I just wonder if . . .”

If he didn’t love you the way you want to be loved.

If that was so painful, you decided to tell yourself that Lukas simply isn’t capable of deep romantic feelings.

If maybe you only know certain little parts of him, and completely ignore the rest.

If you still see him as the fifteen-year-old boy who needed you when his mom died, and never realized that he’s grown into a different person.

If what’s between you two was more about mutual protection.

“If?” she prompts.

“If maybe the transition to romantic love was a little rocky for the two of you.”

“I mean . . .” She purses her lips and shrugs. “I know Lukas well enough to know that it’s not the case. I know what we had. But in any case, I think that bonding over trauma is still a nice way to fall in love and build a future. More valid than sharing the same sexual fetishes.”

Her tone is gentle—and a punch to the stomach. I blink at her, trying to parse what she just said and decipher the way she intended for it to land. Whether I should be offended. “I . . . excuse me?”

“Oh my god.” Instantly, her eyes widen and her hand closes around mine. “I didn’t mean it like . . . I promise it wasn’t a jab! There are lots of valid ways to fall in love, that’s it. I’m so sorry.”

I nod, relieved. Pen just got dumped. She’s emotional. I know she didn’t want to be hurtful.

But then she adds, “I’m just wondering if I made a mistake, that’s all.”

“A mistake?”

“By breaking up with Lukas. I mean, he and I have been through so much, and he gets me, and . . .” Her head cocks. Her eyes on me are almost pleading. “Are you two . . . It’s mostly sex, right? You’re not officially dating.”

It would be an indisputable lie, to say that what’s between me and Lukas is mostly sex.

However. As much as it hurts to admit: “We aren’t officially dating.”

Not that it matters. I don’t need a stamped certificate to know that Lukas cares deeply about me, and that what we have is real. The problem is, Pen’s relief at my words is so obvious, I doubt that right now she’d be capable to accept any of that.

She’s hurting. I’m her friend. I can keep the truth to myself for a little longer. Put her first, just for a while.

“He’s right, by the way,” I say, squeezing her hand back.

“Who?”

“Lukas.” I smile. “It is Theo’s loss.”

She lays her head on my shoulder, and I do my best to joke and laugh while walking to dryland training. Once we’re there, I excuse myself and go find the coaches.

It will be all right, I tell myself.

Pen feels rejected, maybe for the first time in her life. She’s fragile, and needs her friends’ support. She doesn’t love Lukas. Lukas doesn’t love her. That relationship is over.

It’s just not a good time to point it out.

And I have more important things to worry about, too.

“Coach Sima?”

He doesn’t look up from the piece of paper he’s reading. “Yeah?”

“I’d like to discuss the possibility of making some changes to my training program.”