Bodies of Water

Chapter One

The pool out back wasn’t the draw, not when I rented the house.

I didn’t have the kids, or the nieces and nephews, that the letting agent suggested it would be popular with.

No husband or boyfriend to lounge next to it with, either.

That we were in the depths of winter - and I was in the depths of depression - when I signed the contract meant the charms of a deep volume of very cold water were, perhaps understandably, lost on me.

Instead it was the underfloor heating that appealed, and the comically large en-suite wet room, and the fact that the view out the back yard swept, uninterrupted and from almost no angle overlooked, down to the glinting lights of the city.

At night it was as though a bazaar of multi-colored fireflies had set out their stalls in the valley below me.

It was the perfect view for getting over a bad breakup.

Okay, not the sort of breakup that leaves you near-bankrupt or questioning your former partner’s fidelity from day one; nor the sort that leaves as many physical bruises as it does emotional.

Just the painful stumbling and then fading of a relationship you thought would mean you never had to chance the dating scene again.

That wasn’t something I’d attempted yet, nor something I looked forward to.

At 38 years old, and at the ugly tail-end of more than a decade and a half with my former partner, the bars and clubs of my youth seemed like a lifetime ago.

Apps and hook-up sites were completely foreign: something my single friends explained to me eagerly, but which sounded terrifying to my ears.

I was in no way, shape, or form ready to consider downloading, signing up to, and braving the digital dating arena.

For now said-friends were making all the right “we’re so sorry” noises and giving me time to get over my ex, but I had the strong suspicion that it was only a matter of time - a short matter of time, at that - before they started strong-arming me into creating a profile or twelve, and forcing myself back into the meat market.

Even just the thought of it made me shudder.

Perhaps that was why I’d done more solo city-watching the past few weeks, and less socializing. Out of sight, out of mind. The longer I could fend off the peer-pressure, the better.

Winter’s chill had thawed, of course, making way for spring’s charms of renewal.

Not a scorcher by any means, but enough to send the thermometer on my phone spiraling upward, and my hand reaching for the A/C control on the wall.

Now it was the sliding glass doors from the living room out to the patio that were appealing, my body eager for the slight breeze as dusk settled down through the hills and did lackluster battle with the heat haze blanketing the valley below.

It took a week of that before I thought to thumb the control that would send the pool cover spooling back, exposing the water underneath and sending careless ripples across its surface.

Suddenly I was reconsidering my apathy and, by the time I’d dipped one tentative foot, I was about ready to cast off any previous skepticism.

I dug a pair of old running shorts out from the back of my sock drawer, set my glasses to one side, and slipped into the water.

Still on the cool side, but deliciously so.

Pushing off from the wall, I did a lazy breast stroke to the opposite wall, finding the technique I’d just about managed to learn back at school quickly returned to me.

I wasn’t going to win at a swim meet, but I wasn’t going to sink, either.

My singleton routine gained a new item on the agenda, then. Home from work, pour a drink, and then several laps in the pool. Just side to side, no great ambition in my strokes beyond embracing some cooling potential that also had the benefit of being cheaper than the A/C running at full tilt.

When I was done, I would sit at the side on a wooden lounger, allowing the evening’s heat to gradually dry me.

Watch the shimmer of what starlight was visible given the city’s glow, the heavens’ skew having shifted as winter became spring, became the shimmering haze of summer.

Eyes turned upward, embracing an isolation I could brand self-sufficiency.

Finally, I’d push the button to shut the cover for the night. There were no kids in the immediate neighborhood, not as far as I was aware, but I had no desire to find something furry and sodden in there with me the following day.

It wasn’t just children in short supply around me.

I’d only seen a handful of people in the street in the months since I’d moved in.

My early starts and late returns - extended work hours one questionable benefit of having post-breakup time on my hands - meant mostly I was away before other houses had woken up, and then back again in time to see light through closed shades but not the occupants.

The sensation of being, if not alone on a mountain, then at least more isolated than the typical urban worker was a welcome one. It also meant that, when someone called out to me after I pulled into the driveway one evening, I yelped in response.

“Whoa, sorry!” an apologetic voice followed after the cheery hello. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I tried to assume the expression of a man who had not, regardless of clear appearances to the contrary, been startled at all. Maybe a man who just emitted strangled cries whenever he got out of his car in the evening, so thrilled he was to be home.

“No, it’s... fine,” I replied, through gritted teeth. Peered into the looming darkness to see who had surprised me.

He emerged after a moment, from my neighbor’s carport, stepping into the glow of the porch light as my eyes acclimated to the gloom. Tall, and young too. Probably somewhere in his twenties, with a broad smile and dark blonde hair.

“I’m really sorry,” he said again, expressive mouth grimacing with the words. “You probably didn’t expect someone to come shouting out of the night at you.”

I smiled. “I think I could count the number of people I’ve seen in this street on one hand, so I was probably getting complacent. I was overdue a reminder that I don’t have the neighborhood to myself.”

By that point he’d closed the gap between us, standing across the car’s hood from me.

His grimace having shifted into a grin again; out in the full glow of the lamplight, I could see him more clearly.

Nudged my assessment of his age to around mid-twenties, and no way not to notice the broadness of the shoulders in his dark blue polo shirt.

“Well, I just wanted to say hi,” he said, as my eyes rapidly found their way to his face again. “I’m moving back in with my folks for the summer, and thought I’d say... well, hi.”

I smiled at his slight frown at the repetition.

“Well hi back at you,” I echoed, my gaze catching on the unexpectedly appealing way his lips curled at the shared amusement.

That, my mom would’ve said, was a dangerous smile.

The sort that could easily get someone into trouble.

At the time she’d meant it to be advice for my older sister, but it was something I’d learned - and promptly forgotten when I really could’ve used it in my early twenties - myself.

“I’m Kai,” he said, reaching his hand across the car.

I leaned over to clasp it. “Short for... Malakai?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope. Just Kai. I wish my parents had to pay me a dollar every time someone asks me that.”

“You’d be a millionaire?”

“Well, not quite,” he conceded, “but I’d probably have enough that I didn’t have to spend my summers back at home with them.”

I laughed at that, inwardly wondering if I’d added too many years to my estimate of his age. “Home from college?”

Kai nodded. “Pre-med. Gotta keep the old man happy, y’know?”

Was his father a doctor? I’d never exchanged more than a “good morning” with the couple next door, so I wasn’t really in a position to say.

“Anyway, I saw you pull in and I was working on my car” - he nodded back toward the garage, where I could make out a cool glow from underneath a small and fairly old looking hatchback - “and wanted to introduce myself. Sorry again for startling you.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I was just lost in my routine.” Then, realizing what I’d omitted, “oh, and I’m Tate.” I saw him frown. “Not short for tater-tots, it’s just Tate. My mom was English, it’s an English name.”

I shut my mouth, jaw tight. Knowing I’d been rambling.

Kai gave me a grin. “Well, it was good to meet you, Mister Tots.” He chuckled as I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

I flipped him a lazy salute by way of goodbye, then spent the few steps walking to the front door wincing and asking myself why I’d done something so cringeworthy. Shuddered as the door closed behind me, mentally kicking myself for being such a social klutz.

“You need to spend more time with people,” I muttered to myself, “you’re turning into a potato.”

The first glass of wine helped settle any lingering feelings of self-consciousness, though, and by the time I was headed through the sliding doors onto the deck, my mind was mainly occupied by thinking how good the water would feel.

I’d already changed into the gray nylon running shorts after showering, and pulled off my t-shirt as the pool cover retracted slowly.

By the time I executed a very halfhearted dive - more a controlled splashdown than anything else - all thoughts of the conversation were forgotten.

I’d braced myself for another unexpected greeting when I pulled into the driveway the following night, but my nerves were mercifully untested. It was almost a week before I saw Kai again, this time at the opposite end of the day, as I was leaving for work.

In fact it was his feet I saw, sneakers protruding from under the bumper of the battered hatchback where it had been moved out of the garage. At one point in its history it had probably been bright red. Now, it had the faded hue of a well-washed shirt.

“Morning, Kai,” I called out. I’m not saying I felt a little stab of redemption - and certainly not anything as base as vengeful victory - when I heard the bump and subsequent yelp as what I assumed was his head struck the underbody of the car.

I did, though, make sure I wasn’t smirking by the time he wheeled himself out.

“Ouch,” he observed, rubbing a spot on his forehead. It left a greasy smudge. “Hey, Tate. You surprised me.”

I gave him an expression that I hoped would say “huh, you think?”

“You should be more careful,” I joked, pointing at where he was rubbing. “You’re going to knock all of that learning out of your brain before you even get to a hospital.”

Kai groaned. “Too late, it’s pretty much spilling out of my ears at this point. I’m gonna have to re-read every textbook when I go back.”

I nodded sympathetically. “They’re so demanding, expecting you to know every little detail about the human body.”

He shrugged. “Exactly. I mean, it’s basically just blood and a couple of bones and stuff in there, right? You could pick that up in an afternoon.”

I pantomimed horror. “Remind me never to come to the hospital you end up working at, okay?”

Unlocking my car, I pulled open the passenger door and dropped my bag in the footwell. Closed it, then turned to find Kai staring at me still.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you have a pool,” he ventured.

I nodded. “That I do.”

A sly little expression worked its way onto his face. “That must be nice on these hot evenings,” he continued; his tone light, as though the thought was only just occurring to him. “Must feel really good after a long, hot day.”

I had to laugh. “You’re not wrong there,” I agreed, smiling. “Hey, just a thought, do you want to use the pool sometime?”

If the career in medicine didn’t pan out, I hoped Kai’s back-up plan wasn’t switching to acting.

“Why, Tate,” he told me, face lighting up in a broad smile that caused my own to spread wider, “that’s mighty hospitable of you. Terribly neighborly. Tremendously generous and admirably accommodating.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Sometimes I just have these ideas, completely off the top of my head, out of nowhere,” I said, my tone dripping sarcasm.

Kai elected to ignore it. “Well, the world is the grand beneficiary of your noble sacrifice,” he exclaimed, arms raised out from his sides.

Shaking my head, I pulled open the car door. “See you later, Kai,” I told him, mock-weary. He was still stood like that, inane grin contagious, as I pulled away down the street.