5. Tomorrow
Tomorrow
Even on a Sunday morning, her feet find the floor before her mind catches up.
A quick glance out the window shows an overcast sky, the trees swaying in a restless wind.
She slides into her suit and layers a pair of warm-ups over it.
Her mom will be annoyed she is skipping church, but Reese had said tomorrow, and Maren, being a person of her word, won’t back out now.
She grabs her bag, tucking in her journal, a bit of homework, and a few snacks from the kitchen. She is almost out the door when she realizes she should probably leave a note for mom at least. Turning around, she writes on the whiteboard next to the fridge.
Out with Reese. Sorry, team stuff.
Maren is sure her mom is going to have questions, but right now she doesn’t know what else to write in the note.
Before she leaves the kitchen, she grabs one more protein bar, just in case she is waiting a while for Reese.
Reese didn’t say what time she would be there, and Maren isn’t even 100% sure that she will show.
But Maren is willing to wait as long as needed.
Pulling into the state park lot, Maren backs into a space, habitually precise.
Only two other cars are in the lot right now.
She grabs a blanket from the back seat and spreads it across the trunk before climbing up to sit.
The lake stretches out, before her grey and glassy, the waves lapping at the shore.
The sound steadies her and brings her back to zero.
The sound reaches her senses before the sight, tires crunching over the gravel, a low, soft hum of music leaking through open windows. Is that Katy Perry, again? Maren doesn’t need to look. She already knows who is pulling into the spot next to hers.
Reese steps out of the car, the wind catching her hair and blowing the blonde streaks across her face. She tries to puff them away as she walks towards Maren’s trunk with two coffee cups in hand. She pauses when she sees Maren sitting there, as if she hadn’t truly expected her to come.
“I didn’t think you would beat me here,” Reese says, offering one of the cups. “I hope you like it sweet.”
The sleeve wrapped around the cup bears the logo from Red Cup, Maren’s favorite shop. She smiles softly, taking it from Reese. “Well, you said tomorrow.”
Reese tilts her head to the side and smiles softly. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”
Reese turns, pausing for just a moment before she starts walking towards the water.
Her sneakers sink softly into the sand as she moves.
Maren slides off the trunk of her car, grabs the blanket, and follows.
Coffee in hand, they stop in front of a fallen tree that has been sandblasted smooth.
Maren spreads out the blanket and gestures for Reese to sit.
For a while, neither of them speaks, just taking it all in.
Maren notices everything: the way the wind draws across the sand in front of them, the calm surface of the lake still breaking in soft ripples against the shore, and the faint smell of the steel mill in the distance.
The warmth of the coffee in her hands, the small curl of steam rising from the lid.
Beside her, Reese traces slow circles across the top of her cup.
Maren’s brain finds the rhythm in all of it and settles.
The silence here is peaceful, not lonely.
Reese twists her coffee down into the sand next to the blanket. She pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, and rests her chin on top.
“So,” she says, staring out at the horizon, “are we going to do this? The buoy thing?”
Maren follows her gaze. The lake stretches out flat in front of them, the buoy is only a speck of orange in the distance, but it looks further away today than it did yesterday. A breeze stirs, breaking the surface into hundreds of small ripples. She shakes her head softly. “Not today.”
Reese hums, nodding like she expected that answer. “Guess the lake gets to keep its secrets,” she says, a softness of relief in her voice.
Maren’s mouth twitches, just barely. “Maybe it already told us what we needed.”
Dropping her arm down to rest between them, Reese looks at Maren. “You always talk like that, you know?”
“Like what?” Maren shrugs.
“Like there is meaning in everything.”
“Isn’t there?”
Reese lets out a quiet laugh, leaning in just enough for their shoulders to brush. The contact is brief and light, but it sends a pulse through the calm between them.
“You’re something else, you know that Mini-Coach.”
Maren doesn’t pull away. She looks back at the water, the echo of warmth settling slower than the waves as she takes another sip of her coffee with a smile.
The quiet stretches, but it feels easy now, almost natural between them. Reese leans back to rest against the log behind them, eyes still trained on the water’s edge.
“Are you always this serious?” she questions.
Maren glances over at Reese for a moment. “For the most part.”
A soft smile crests Reese’s face. “I figured. I’m the opposite. I probably joke too much and talk too much. Like if I stop talking, my brain will start screaming most days.”
Maren studies her for a moment, the corners of her mouth softening. “I like the quiet. It’s the only time my brain slows down.”
“Wow, that must be nice,” Reese says, tilting her head. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t have a soundtrack going at all times.”
Maren looks at her, really looks. “You use noise to keep things, people, out.”
Reese laughs, for no other reason than to fill the space. “You caught that one quickly.”
“I pay attention,” Maren says plainly.
For another beat, they both fall silent. The lake stirs; the sound is low and even.
Then Reese smiles again, softer now. “Guess we balance each other out, huh?”
Maren takes another sip of her coffee. “Maybe,” she says with a small shrug, “Coach was right.”
For a long moment, the world feels held between breaths. The waves roll in soft and even, and Maren traces every ripple with her eyes until they all blur together.
Reese shifts beside her, brushing a bit of sand off the blanket. “You want to know something, a dumb secret?”
Maren looks over. “Sure.”
“When I was younger,” Reese starts, “I used to fake nosebleeds to get out of dives I was scared of.” She laughs, but there is a crack in the sound. “I got really good at it too, the pinch, the head tilt, the whole scene. We’re talking about academy-worthy performances.”
Maren doesn’t laugh. “That’s not faking. That’s survival, if you ask me.”
Reese glances at her, like she isn’t used to someone answering that way. “Do you really think so?”
Maren nods. “Being scared doesn’t make you weak. It means you knew enough to be cautious.”
Reese lets out an audible sigh that sounds a little like relief. “You are downright dangerous with that honesty stuff, huh?”
Maren gives a soft chuckle. “Well, you asked.”
“So, what about you? Do you have a deep, dark secret?”
Maren hesitates, her fingers tightening around her cup. “Um, I count things. Floor tiles, ceiling tiles, lockers. Numbers calm me. They make sense.”
“Counting really helps?” Reese asks.
“It makes the world predictable.”
“Less scary.”
Maren nods.
The silence that follows is thick. It is steady, full of something unnamed.
The sun breaks through the clouds for the first time that morning, a thin ribbon of light stretching across the water. It catches the edge of the waves, turning them silver for just a moment before fading again.
They finish their coffees in silence, neither in a rush to move. Reese leans forward, twisting her empty cup deeper into the sand. “Still no sharks,” she says, voice light and playful.
Maren shakes her head. “Doesn’t look that way today.”
Reese stands, brushing the sand from her legs. “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Maren looks up at her. “That you will.”
Reese’s grin lingers, easy and warm, as she walks back to her car. The sound of her footsteps squeaks in the sand and then fades, leaving only the rush of the water.
Maren watches the ripples reach the shore and thinks, for the first time, that rhythm doesn’t always mean repetition. Sometimes it means return.