Chapter 4 #3
“Just promise not to tell me anything. You’re right. I need to forget him.”
“My lips are sealed.” Leah pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key.
The gesture sent a pang through Augie’s heart. She was again reminded that she was lying to Leah, building a chasm between
them. The tension in her chest ballooned into guilt.
“I’m baking,” Augie said, suddenly hot and overwhelmed. She pushed up off her chair.
“All right, but beware. Robin said they were keeping it colder this year. She read all about how polar plunging was just oh
so good for you.” She danced her hands in the air.
“Oh, it can’t be that bad.” Augie walked to the shallow end, dipping in a toe before inching down the first step. Instantly,
goose bumps climbed over her whole body as her shoulders scrunched to her neck.
“I’ll take that as a yes?”
“Colder? This is freaking glacial.” She hugged her elbows closer before splashing Leah. Leah screamed, but within seconds,
she bounced up, threw her sunglasses on her chair, and headed toward the deep end.
“That’s your problem.” Leah raised her hands in a perfect V, the candy blue sky behind her, her pink suit glittering in the sun.
“You just have to jump.”
Augie couldn’t stop thinking about Chat.
She tried to train herself. Every time he popped into her head, she asked herself a math question: What’s 79 times 30? 145 plus 912? It was a habit she had before presentations or getting shots at the doctor’s or taking off in an airplane. Usually, it was
an easy way to switch her focus.
She’d looked for him at the Club all week, but there was no sign of him. It almost seemed like she’d made him up. Regardless,
she promised herself that if and when she ran into him again, she would be purely friendly and professional, as Leah had advised.
She’d be normal.
It helped that she was busy. The luncheons all went long, and the parties were all crazy, everyone hyped up on summer, cocktails,
and AC. She was relieved Aida had assigned her the Saturday swim meet instead of the wedding. She thought she could make plans
with Leah for the evening, but when she called, Leah had been reluctant to tell her she was going to a party. While their
friends knew Augie was back, Augie hadn’t seen them. She didn’t want to answer any questions about New York. She’d felt so
proud—and a little smug—to leave.
The day of the swim meet, Augie sat under the gazebo at the lower snack station—grateful it was one of the rare positions
where the staff was allowed to sit—and yawned. It was only eight a.m., but everyone had arrived early, rushing to claim chairs
and set up tents for the kids. Parents took the sport too seriously, but her job was easy enough. Augie was also glad she
got to wear the outdoor uniform for meets: blue polo, khaki shorts, tan tennis shoes. The polo matched her eyes, and years
ago, Leah had given her a pair of old Coach sneakers. Augie felt more confident in that uniform. She always felt the members
registering her expensive shoes, unnerved.
Augie stared across the pool and gave TC a thumbs-up.
Despite the early morning, setup had been easy.
The only snag was the bees. The day before, there’d been yet another poolside birthday party—this time with a cotton candy machine—and sticky, webbed sugar was everywhere.
The bees were having a field day. Augie had never been bothered by bees, but she scooted her chair to the side as a few flew into her domain.
“I come in peace,” she whispered while they buzzed about her feet.
“Could we get two bagels and two waters, please?” she heard a second later. Even amid her distraction, the voice sounded familiar,
and when she sat up, there he was. Finally. A reminder that she wasn’t crazy. That he was real. Relief and excitement flooded
her body.
Chat smiled wider, his cheeks folding like parentheses. She didn’t know what it was about him—one sentence, and they were
back in their own little world.
“You scared me,” she said, her tone light—and, she hated to admit: flirty.
“Were you talking to the bees?” The creases around his smile deepened.
“They have all the good gossip.”
She soaked in his laughter as she studied his tan Modest Mouse T-shirt and red gym shorts. “Where are the boys?” she asked,
trying to be nonchalant.
“Cooper’s over there with the Birch kids, and Max is with his mom. They’re coming later. We ran out of time to eat breakfast
this morning, so here we are.”
Augie picked up her pencil, remembering his order.
“And look”—he lowered his voice as he dipped his head to her—“I know we’re keeping our distance, but it’s good to see you.
Even if you were never supposed to see me again.
” He studied her, repeating her words from the night of the wedding.
“So if this isn’t okay, I get it. I can grab stuff from the other station. It’s no worries.”
Augie ignored the warmth in her face as she took two wrapped bagels and cream cheese from a cooler. Be normal, she reminded herself, reaching for the waters.
“It’s all good. Is this everything? Do you need anything else?” Without thinking, she scribbled the Crawleys’ member number.
Over the years, she’d accidentally memorized lots of member numbers—especially easy ones like theirs: 9119. It was basically
an emergency.
Chat loosened and angled away from her, leaning against the table as he looked out at the pool. The sun bounced across the
water’s surface, trapping wiggly rhombuses of light.
“So, are these meets a big deal? Olympic status or what?” As he faced away from her, Augie noticed he’d had a haircut since
the wedding—the hair on the back of his neck was buzzed so short, it looked like black velvet. She had the sudden urge to
touch it.
“I guess.” She scooted forward and folded her arms. He smelled the same as always and it was so intoxicating, she pulled back
as if burned. “All very important. All very official. There’s even a podium at the end.”
“Man, it’s too much. The Crawleys’ calendar is so packed, I’m tired for Max and Cooper. I swear I’ve never seen so many activities in my life: swim meets, karate, art camp. All I ever did was play
hockey and sneak onto the golf course.”
“Gotta make sure they get into a good college.” As he turned back to her, Augie again thought of the boat, the taste of his
mouth. What’s 112 times 3?
“Seriously. It’s crazy. Like that even matters, at the end of the day. I mean, for me, college was honestly kind of a waste of time. I should have at least taken the gap year I wanted. I shouldn’t have listened to my dad.”
Augie tapped her pencil on the table, pausing as she remembered the St. Cloud guys from the boat. Most were sophomores. “Aren’t
you still in college?”
“Me? No, no, no way. I graduated this spring, thankfully. It was miserable. I did the last two years online . . . COVID, fun . . .
and I also had to quit hockey. It’s kind of a long story.”
He seemed melancholy, and while Augie felt a little bad, she also felt defensive. She had loved college—pandemic and all.
Switching to online classes had even allowed her to graduate a semester early. College was the last time she’d felt like a
success.
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think you can say college is a waste of time. Although don’t get me wrong, I do agree these activities,
the whole application process, pressure”—she gestured to the meet—“can be a bit much.”
Chat bobbed his head back and forth.
“Okay, but bear with me for a sec,” he finally said. “Because I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately: I just think it’s
kind of crazy to act like college is the only path forward. My dad was so insane about it. He was always telling me to be
realistic, that if I wanted to travel like I said I did, I had to be smart about it. Get a scholarship, play hockey, save
money. Then go explore. Do this and this and this. But it’s not that simple. You can kill yourself trying to do the right
things, and sometimes, it still doesn’t work out.” He pushed on his jaw with the back of his hand. “I know it seems dramatic.
I guess I’m just frustrated. I tried to ‘be realistic,’ to use hockey as my ticket to Europe, the international leagues, but
even though I was close, it didn’t go my way.”
His face fell.
“All I’m saying is I wish I’d gone off script earlier. That I hadn’t listened to anyone. But I’m going to travel now, so, that’s something.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Thank you for listening to my new life perspective,” he joked, leaning down. “It’s copyrighted.”
Augie tried to smile, but everything he was saying hit a nerve—and mostly because it made sense. She had done everything right,
too.
“Okay, but what’s the alternative?” she heard herself say. “You skip college and bum around the world with no education? You
have to follow at least some rules. Make at least some plans.” While she hadn’t intended to argue, she felt if she could just
win this debate, nothing he was saying could be true.
“Maybe.” Chat looked amused. He stretched his fingers against the table, leaning down on them. “I don’t know. Who knows where
I’d be if I’d done what I wanted from the start? I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”
A lifeguard blew a whistle, a group of kids splashed into the pool, and Augie felt suddenly embarrassed by her surroundings—as
if she were responsible for the “here.”
“Yeah, I guess. I just don’t think you can say college is a waste of time.” Her mouth was dry. “Even if things don’t go as
you hope, even if you fail. It’s okay to make mistakes. You need a degree to get a job. And you need a job to make money,
right? Trust me, I’m not saying you need country club, megamansion, Range Rover money. But still. There’s some reality to
reality.”
Chat went quiet as he looked out to the parking lot. Augie felt desperate as she waited for him to say something, the pencil
sweaty in her grip.
He paused. “I do kind of like driving the Range Rover.”