Chapter 37 Luca
It’s late; most young families have long since gone to bed, and the only other people out at the pool are a handful of well-behaved teenagers and one other couple enjoying a night swim. Em and I find lounge chairs together near the hot tub and drop our towels down before approaching the pool.
It’s hot; with all the rock faces surrounding us, midsummer in Yosemite feels a little like being baked in an oven, but at night it mellows into a gentle heat punctuated with cool breezes blowing westward over the Sierras.
Emery stretches, growing long and lean with her arms overhead, and then smiles over at me.
“Pool or hot tub?”
“Pool first,” I say, “then hot tub.”
I expect her to gently tiptoe into the pool, but she surprises me by taking a running leap into the deep end and doing an impressive cannonball. Surfacing, she wipes the water from her face and laughs. “It’s so cold!”
“Wait—actually?”
She nods. “It’s, like, shockingly cold.”
Unfortunately, I can’t ease in slowly after her impressive stunt, so I gesture for her to move aside before diving into the pool after her. Everything in my body contracts at the sensation of the icy water, but the shock of it soon dissolves into a pleasant tingle, and I kick my way to the surface.
I find Emery holding on to the side of the pool, resting her arms on the still-warm concrete. “You weren’t kidding,” I say.
“Do you want to go to the hot tub?” she asks, teeth chattering.
“No, come on,” I say, laughing, “we can handle a little cold, let’s just keep moving. Just tread water.”
She laughs. “Men treading water is on Annie’s Ick List, Luca.”
“Fuck, I forgot.” I say it, and then my eyes go wide.
I remember the list. “Along with men who clap when a plane lands, say ‘let’s circle back’ in casual conversation or ‘no worries if not’ after every request, and take gym mirror selfies.
” I grin. “Afraid that last one will disqualify Crash for good.”
“That and maybe a few others,” she says, beaming. “I can’t believe how fast things are coming back now.”
“I know, me, too.” I swim closer, pulling her to me.
Her slippery legs weave with mine, and it sends an immediate warmth to my groin.
I realize it sounds insane, but I don’t want to remember everything right now; I want to just enjoy tonight.
I want to stay in the dark for just a little longer…
long enough to make love to my wife for the first time again.
But I realize it’s more than that. I’m scared, too.
Emery had a wake-up call the night I was hit by the car; she’s had a second chance to be the partner she thinks I deserve.
There’s a part of me, and it’s not insignificant, that worries how it will feel to know that she wasn’t a perfect wife.
That I wasn’t a perfect husband. It’s one thing to know it in abstract terms, but it’s another to remember how it felt.
I’m falling so hard in love with her and don’t want to leave this bubble.
She dives back into the water, and we spend a few minutes playing—chasing each other, tugging at feet and ankles underwater, splashing.
I lift her up and throw her into the deep end; she climbs on my back and pretends I’m her chauffeur.
It’s so fun and easy to be silly with her that neither of us pauses to comment on how ridiculous we’re being.
She emerges from the last throw I’ve managed, breathless and laughing. My arms are getting fucking tired, but I’ll throw her around the pool as long as she wants.
Lucky for me, she wants to go to the hot tub.
We climb out and pad over, settling into the bubbling heat with a duet of happy groans.
“We should have done this first,” she says, “and then gone into the pool.”
“We can still do that, silly.”
She floats over, coming to straddle my lap. I look around to make sure no one is nearby, but with only about fifteen minutes left of pool time, everyone has cleared out and it’s just us here now.
“That was the first time I think I actually liked playing in a pool,” she says, cupping her hands around the back of my neck.
“Come on,” I say, laughing. “You act like you’re such a bookworm, but I saw you on the beach. You hike. You swim. You love being outside.”
“I think I’ve started to love that stuff because of you. I think Sunny Sundays made me so happy that I started to like being outdoorsy… ish.”
“Maybe it doesn’t just have to be once a week. We should add Merry Mondays and Thrilling Thursdays to the mix,” I say, laughing.
“Titillating Tuesdays,” she says earnestly. “Let’s do it.”
I reach up, holding out a pinkie, and she hooks hers around it. “Pinkie swears are on the Ick List,” she whispers, “but I like them.”
“It’ll be our secret,” I whisper back, and smile up at her before letting my eyes fall closed. “Coming into the hot tub was a good idea.”
“I’m telling you: I have excellent ideas.”
Skeptically, I crack an eye open. “Am I having a real memory that you once suggested putting pineapple on nachos?”
She laughs, delighted. “If you’re remembering that, it clearly made an impression. Maybe it’s worth a try.”
“A traumatic impression, maybe.” She splashes me lightly with water. “Emmy, it’s unfair how hot you look with your hair all wet like this.”
“That’s a pretty smooth line, Mr. Martín. Did you practice that one earlier, in front of the mirror?”
“Why would I do that? The mirror doesn’t blush back at me like you do.”
She laughs, bending to rest her face in my neck. “You’re insufferable.”
“I think you like it.”
“You’re going to be the king of dad jokes,” she whispers, and I tighten my arms around her.
“Someday.”
We fall into an easy silence, but I feel myself overheating and know we’re close to closing time for the pool.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” she asks into my neck.
“Everything?” I say, and feel the enormity and truth in that single word. I want to do everything with this woman. I don’t want to waste a minute of this second chance we’ve been given.
She laughs. “Maybe we start with a hike?”
I nod. “We should do Bridalveil Fall Trail.”
She sits up, smiling in excitement. “I remember you telling me about the time you and Crash hiked that—”
“And we saw the sign that actually said, ‘Do not lean over the railing, you will die.’ ”
“Yes! And Crash said challenge accepted and you had to drag him back to the trail.”
I laugh, trying to think back to the trip I took here with Emery.
Before today, my head felt like a dark hallway; now there are windows with random glimpses of light.
A forested path in one, the distant view of El Capitan surrounded by trees and mist. The Half Dome pizza with chili oil and honey, but so far nothing about the average days leading up to the accident.
“We hiked to Twin Bridges and found those granite-lined swimming holes. Do you remember?”
Emery laughs, nodding. “You wanted us to skinny-dip.” She presses her hand to the side of my face. “You’re coming back to me.”
“Little by little.” I lean forward, kissing her, squeezing my eyes closed, and begging the memories to stay away for just a little longer.