We go to the gym instead. I need to work off the endless energy from last night's fiasco at dinner and I want some space away from Eric. I need some peace. I need some good, solid stroking.
We start with a backstroke. Mark is coaching me, guiding me through the pool. His hands move like a shark's fins through the blue water. He still moves with that astounding speed as if he were some beautiful animal, a water mammal, instead of a human being.
He coaches me, patiently, quietly. But in his heart, he only hears the water. He hears the sounds of the pool, of the other members jumping into the water, of our mutual swimming. Mark Fitzgerald falls into a mediation, an aquatic nirvana and I watch him with respect.
And lust.
I can't help it. His moves, his confidence, his prowess is amazing. He really isn't a human in the water, he's a gentle shark-- a fast fish against a current that always loses to his strength.
We have juice at the juice-bar instead of coffee. We both agree it's nice here and it feels good to know we probably won't see anyone we know.
"I missed you," he murmurs.
"I missed you too, Mark."
I wish we could be good friends. But we can't... It's all or nothing -- and today, I'm leaning towards "all."
"I understand Eric's parents are in town, how's that been?"
I start to cry. I'm such a dope! I start to cry, but catch it just in time. "Fine," I murmur back and gulp some carrot juice to change the mood. "They're on their way back to the east coast today."
"Not seeing them off", Mark jokes.
"No."
"You're such an amazing swimmer, Mark. Why did you quit?"
He tells me he wanted more stability, he hated competing against his friends. But he was so good, and when I knew him from before, he seemed to love competition. "You always wanted to steal the title from someone else, Mark. You competed best when you were after something you couldn't have."
"I've changed, Andy."
But I didn't believe him.
"And now, what do you want that you can't have, Mark?" We both knew the answer I wanted.
But he mused a bit and then replied, "I told you, I've changed, Andy."
"I don't believe you."
"Give me your hand", and I did. He rested it on his wet shorts. The shorts were cold at first but got warmer real soon.
Ahhhh. Mark.
