42. Ashlie
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
ASHLIE
D espite the ache in my chest, I managed to make it to the weekend without a single tear. Mostly. Wednesday was hard, when I realized it was lunch time and picked my phone up to text Hunter without thinking. Seeing his name on the screen was all it took for me to crumble into a tear-soaked mess.
I miss him. It’s only been a week, and I miss everything—the teasing, the touches, the kissing. His snarky comebacks and smart-ass jokes. Arguing with him about everything… anything . His friendship. Him . But I stand by what I said in that hallway. I need to stop relying on others and work on myself… I’m just not sure how.
I’ve spent the week petrified by indecision, the roar of anxiety growing with every passing day. I’m running out of time, but that deep-seated fear of failure is pressing me into the couch cushion so forcefully right now, I can’t do anything but sit here and flip through channels. It’s already Sunday afternoon. Doing nothing about it feels worse by the day, but I just can’t .
Loud banging at my door snaps me out of my pity party. I slowly stretch as I stand from the couch, adjusting my tank top and pulling up my sweatpants while trudging to open it. Luckily, the tweak in my ankle was a small one. After babying it for the week, I’m only feeling a slight twinge when I lift my heels to look in the peephole.
Willa storms into my apartment as soon as I open the door, and I shield my eyes from her cheery yellow T-shirt. It’s too bright for my mood. Her long twists sway as she shakes her head at the misery cocoon I set up on the couch. “Alright, girl, get dressed and let’s go.”
“Oh, dear sister. Do come in…” I say dryly, moving back toward the sofa.
Whipping around, her eyes narrow. “ This …”—she waves her hand in the air, gesturing to me and then the living room—“is not healthy. I’m getting you out of the house. Go. Get. Dressed.”
“ Ugh , no. I don’t feel like going anywhere. Can we just stay in and watch a movie or something?” Resuming my position on the couch, I wrap the blanket around myself, curling in tight like a depressed little taquito.
“No, Ash. You need sun and fresh air.” She grabs my blanket and yanks it clean off my body, scrunching her nose after a few seconds. “And a shower.”
I slice a glare at her. “Remember how we didn’t talk for years? We should make that happen again. Right now.”
“ Oh , so you’re just pushing everyone away now? That’s a low blow and you know it.” Willa’s stare is withering, and I crumble.
“I… I know. I’m sorry.” Tears drip from my eyes, and I squeeze them tight. That was uncalled for. No matter how bad I feel on the inside, Willa doesn’t deserve that. It was a shitty thing for me to say.
“I forgive you. Now lose the attitude, and get dressed.” She marches back to my bedroom, giving me more grace than I’ve been able to give myself this week. Drawers open and close while she mutters obscenities from the back of my apartment. I roll off the couch and follow her. “Here!” She throws a T-shirt, leggings, and undies at me. “Get in the shower. I’ll grab the rest of your stuff.”
“What stuff, Wills? Where are we going?”
“You ask too many damn questions, Ash. Just go .”
“What’s the big deal?” Willa’s been trying to convince me to get out of the car for ten minutes now. I admit, the warm sun streaming through the windows is rejuvenating against my skin. It’s a beautiful day outside, but I can’t do it. “You used to do this all the time.”
I shake my head as a lump forms in my throat. People say taking a break from doing something you love can make it harder to come back to it, and that’s the type of dread rifling through me as we sit in the McMahon Center parking lot. What if all the wonderful memories are sullied by walking in there feeling the way I do right now.
“I don’t know,” I say, biting my nail. “It’s…been too long. What if I don’t like it anymore. What if I’m not good at it anymore?”
“Ash, this isn’t open heart surgery. It’s a hobby. No one cares if you hate it or you’re no good.”
“I care.” Shaking my head again, I sink into the leather. I used to love swimming, so what about it has me terrified enough to freeze me in this passenger seat? What’s so petrifying about the one thing that gave me an escape? The pool was my sanctuary. I only had myself to impress. That’s what I loved about it. I could jump in the water and all my worries would wash away.
“How about this?” Willa’s voice edges on frustration as she tries to convince me. “Just come into the locker room, put on the suit, and decide about the water later. You can lounge in a chair if you don’t want to get in.” She leans forward and peers at me like she would an irrational teenager. I guess I’m not too far from acting like one lately, so it’s fitting.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath, slowly unfolding myself from the seat as I reach for the door handle.
Trepidation builds in the pit of my stomach with each step toward the front door. I feel so far removed from the person who used to love this. What if my passion for it has fizzled out ? If I discover I no longer enjoy this outlet, it will gut me more than I already am. It will leave me floundering in the worst way. It’ll prove I’m a failure .
Willa hands over a swim cap with a small bottle of conditioner inside and a faded blue one-piece suit. It’s the first one I received after becoming team captain in college. The yellow lettering barely clings to the worn, stretchy fabric. Of all the suits she could have grabbed, she would have had to dig deep in my stash to find this. When I glance at her, she has a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile on her face.
“I thought you could use a little reminder of who you are. You’re the captain of your life, Ashlie. You decide the path forward. You steer your ship any way you want it to go, around anything or anyone trying to get in your way.” Willa squeezes my arm as I trace over the letters on my bathing suit. “You’ve just gotten a little lost on the voyage and could use a compass recalibration. Don’t let your worry keep you from your joy, sis.” With another squeeze, she walks inside, leaving me to decide which direction I want to steer this catastrophic vessel.
Don’t let your worry keep you from your joy . My dad’s smile from that first jump in the pool flashes through my mind. I begged him to teach me how to swim for weeks, but as soon as I saw the rippling water, nothing could convince me I wouldn’t inhale it all the second I dove in. He tried everything he could think of to get me into the pool. But just like now, I was stubborn as hell. After a while, the only thing he could do was set me on the edge and wait for me to decide for myself. I can still hear his words in my head:
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with feeling nervous . But don’t let your worry keep you from your joy . You won’t know what fun you’re missing if you never jump in the pool . ”
Dad sat poolside with me for close to an hour. The excited bellows of other kids splashing in the water made me jealous enough to find some courage. I tipped forward until I lost my balance, falling into the water face first. A surprised yelp from Dad registered in my ears just as my face hit the water, his arms wrapping around me right after I submerged. The panic on his face switched to surprise once he realized I was laughing.
The memory of Dad’s hearty chuckle as he dropped me back in the water brings a smile to my face. A tear slips down my cheek as I finally accept that I’ve been letting my anxiety stop me for too long. Somewhere along the way, I started believing the worry was the compass, letting it guide me in all the wrong directions. Allowing the wrong people to change my course. I’ve been holding myself back. Enough is enough .
I march into the locker room and put on the suit. As I prep my hair for the chlorine, it feels like I’m gearing up for battle. Sectioning my curls into chunky twists, soaking my strands in the shower, smoothing on conditioner. Each step adds another layer of courage until I’m confidently snapping the swim cap on my head. You can do this .
My feet dangle in the water, and I use my shimmering reflection as the recalibration I so desperately need. I dive in—headfirst. My movements are slow, the long-underused muscles warming up as I glide back and forth across the pool. Soon, I’m practicing strokes I haven’t done in years, the cool water clearing away my doubts and worries until I come out with a giant smile on my face.
“There she is!” Willa grins from her lounge chair after I’ve exhausted myself in the pool. “I knew you’d figure it out, girl.”
I smile back and pull myself out of the water to sit next to her. Removing my swim cap, I shake my soaking wet twists in her face, just like I used to do when we were kids.
She squeals and throws up her hands as a shield from the droplets. “Okay, I don’t miss that ! Seriously, Ashlie?”
“Hey, this was all your idea.” I smile, still breathing hard from my laps.
“Yeah, there’s something else…” She slips her hand into her tote bag and pulls out my old ID card for the LA County Recreational Centers. The picture is probably seven years old, but it’s me, smiling without a care in the world. “I went ahead and renewed your annual membership. That way you have no excuses for not coming out here to swim again.”
“Thanks…but I’m confused. How did you know I had a membership here? I haven’t been in years, and we weren’t exactly talking back then.”
She shrugs, smiling. “Hunter mentioned it might help you feel better. Told me not to tell you though.”
My heart kickstarts, like the mention of his name is my own personal defibrillator. “You’re talking to Hunter?”
“He was worried about how you’re doing and asked me. When I told him you’ve been wasting away on your couch, he told me to get you in the pool. Dropped me a location pin and everything. He even offered to pay for the membership, but I didn’t take him up on that part.”
You deserve someone who wants your happiness as much as their own . The rapid beating in my chest is nothing compared to the whirlpool in my head as Hunter’s words echo. After everything, in spite of everyone else—including himself—he still just wants me to be happy? Tears well in my eyes as I gape at Willa. If it wasn’t clear before, this solidifies it. I really don’t deserve him .
“He’s figuring it out as he goes, just like you. Take the time you need to decide what you want to do, but he’s good for you, Ash. He’s only giving you space for your sake. He doesn’t want it.”
Chewing on my thumbnail, I nod at the sobering reality that I don’t just need time to do this on my own. I need some help.
As Willa and I leave, a bright pink flyer catches my eye: Youth Swimming Director Needed. The details are vague, but seeing the job listing sparks another moment of clarity in my head, and I rip it from the bulletin board. Something about holding this flyer in my hand makes my dream job more of a tangible possibility than the unopened reminder emails sitting in my inbox. Words on a computer screen are easy to ignore, but a neon piece of paper is a beacon. I could really do something I love for a living, and for the first time in a long time, my mind is clear enough to seriously consider it. Hunter, without even trying, has been helping me find my way to this exact moment. Everything points back to him. It has for a while.
As soon as I get home, I fire up my laptop and sit on the edge of the couch cushion, poised to get this shit done. I don’t even bother showering first, worried that doing anything but filling out this application will make me lose my nerve. When I get to the section asking for swimming experience, I take a deep breath and pause, waiting. For fear. Panic. Anxiety. But there’s nothing except a rush of excitement for finally getting this far. I bite my lip, and my fingers fly across the keys. My determination to follow through with this takes me right to the submit button, and I click without any hesitation.
“I did it…” I whisper, staring at the words Application Submitted for longer than is necessary, soaking in this unfamiliar feeling. Pride ? That’s a new one, but I let it fill me up until I’m smiling from ear to ear and ready to burst. An excited squeal echoes off the walls as I jump up on my couch, bouncing around like a five-year-old. “I fucking did it!” Bouncing turns into a victory dance across the cushions. I do feel proud of myself. This is the most empowered I’ve been in years, and I wish I could capture it in a bottle to carry around with me. I need to document this !
Excitement bobs in my knees as I slip my phone from my pocket. Six blurry selfies result from my inability to keep my feet still on the cushion, but the smile in that seventh one is crystal clear. Containing the victory dance to my hips, I tap out a message to send with my picture, still giggling with excitement. Then my face drops. The squeeze in my chest stops me mid-shimmy. Hunter’s name glows in the contact field, but I don’t remember selecting his name. Another clear beacon I can’t ignore . He’s such an instinct, even my subconscious craves his praise. And you pushed him away . He deserves better .
I cringe, awaiting that black hole to suck me in. Waiting for the panicked tears, the berating doubt. But the fear that comes is marred by a tiny glimmer, a remnant left behind by what I overcame today. And the longer I focus on the gleam, the more capable I feel. I scroll through my contacts and hit the number I’ve admittedly been avoiding for far too long. The anxiety that was nowhere to be found several minutes ago now rolls around in my stomach as ringing shrills in my ear. This is the next step .
“Aisha Thompson’s office.”
I bite my lip and close my eyes at the receptionist’s greeting. This jump into the deep end feels harder than my last, but it’s the one that matters the most. “Hi… I need to make an appointment.”