Chapter 26
Okay, here goes. First email. I know this was my idea, but now that I’m sitting down at my desk, I have absolutely no idea what to say.
Do you want to hear about my lecture on coral IVF today?
It was actually really interesting. The coral on the Great Barrier Reef are mostly broadcast spawners, which means once a year, they release bundles of egg and sperm when the conditions are right, and then those bundles all rise to the surface to fertilize into little baby coral.
Very sexy, I know. But actually, it’s a super exciting time here because there’s this narrow window when we can get out onto the reef and collect the spawn into floating pools and also bring some back here to the labs to study and grow.
It happens in Oct and they’re prepping us to go out and assist. It’s an all-hands-on-deck sort of thing.
I can’t wait. Then next semester, we’ll get to help seed some of the polyps onto damaged reefs.
Isn’t that incredible? It makes me feel like I’m actually doing something. Like I’m actually helping.
Anyway, you had that photo shoot for Swimming World today, right? How’d it go? Tell me everything.
Should I sign off? I don’t think I’m going to. Let’s not. This way it’s just like one long conversation, and I don’t have to mentally torture myself wondering if I should write sincerely at the end of every email.
Okay, bye.
Wipe the smirk off your face. Bye doesn’t count!
August 3
From: [email protected]
Wow, we’re starting out with coral reproduction?
And here I was thinking you’d want to keep things safe.
Any chance I can get a nude to go along with all the dirty talk?
Bikini shot? It’s only fair. I’m joking.
I’m joking! Don’t knock a guy for trying.
That actually does sound pretty fascinating. You are saving the world.
I, however, just spent an hour in the shower trying to wash baby oil off every square inch of my body, which is pretty much all you need to know about the photo shoot.
Apparently, I glare too much at the camera?
Nova calls it my sexy smolder. I call it trying not to commit first-degree murder.
But when I’m in the pool, I want to be training.
All that other shit is just a waste of time.
I know it’s part of the sport. Part of my sponsorship deals.
Part of the whole package. But it’s the worst part.
I really don’t understand how my dad let the celebrity of it all get to him.
You know he won five of his eight gold medals in his first Olympics, just like me?
Then he got famous. He got pulled into the parties and the guest appearances and the limelight.
He got comfortable there, too comfortable.
He accidentally knocked my mom up a year before the next Olympics, went into the games an overtired new dad of twins, and still managed to snag one gold.
But it was a disappointment, to him, to the whole country.
Everyone expected him to be the best. After that, he basically ignored us.
By the time four more years passed, he wasn’t the swimmer he once was.
He got two more golds in the team relays, but none for individual races.
I mean, yeah, he’s the best there ever was.
Just ask him. But we all know he could have been better.
I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. But it’s the truth. And even if my emails are just incoherent ramblings, at least they’ll be honest. I can promise you that.
I hope you’ll be honest with me, too.
Which leads me to a question I’ve been meaning to ask you…
When’s your birthday?
You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.
I know you don’t like to think about that day.
Which is totally fair, by the way. It’s okay to not like your birthday.
I get it. One time on my birthday, this totally obnoxious girl actually dropped a bucket of freezing-cold water on my head in fifteen-degree weather. I was scarred for life.
In all seriousness though, Nova and I like to celebrate by watching a movie about twins who were ripped apart at birth because their evil father who wants to take over the galaxy pretty much killed their mother.
So, you know, psychoanalyze that how you will.
I’m not a huge fan of my birthday either.
But you still know it. And I’m pretty sure last year was the best one of my life.
So I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me.
And I’m worried I’m already too late.
August 4
From: [email protected]
Ha. Ha. You deserved that bucket of water and you know it!
And my birthday was last week. July 29th.
Please don’t feel guilty. I don’t talk about it on purpose.
Having to force a smile and open presents while I’m quietly dying inside is pretty much my nightmare.
I’d rather treat it like any other day. Then, at least, I can wave off my bad mood as a poor night’s sleep and no one will pay it any mind.
On your birthday, you’re supposed to have fun.
That’s what people expect from you. And I’m just not there yet. Maybe in a few more years, but not…yet.
Anyway, I chatted with my parents and my brother.
They sent me this fancy underwater camera as a gift.
I can’t wait to try it when we go back out to the reef this weekend.
And you were there for me, even if you didn’t know it.
Texting with you was the highlight of the day.
All in all, a pretty good birthday. One of the other exchange students has a birthday in two weeks and the group is already trying to plan a karaoke night for her, so I’m feeling very good about keeping mine completely under wraps.
Don’t tell Nova or Willa. I love them to death, but low-key just isn’t in their nature. Especially Nova.
Do you want to hear about my best birthday ever? Doesn’t matter. It’s my email. I’m going to tell you anyway. (And yes, the power might be going to my head.)
Summer birthdays can be tough as a kid. Everyone is away on vacation.
You don’t get any special treatment during the school year.
I used to complain about it to Mabel all the time, especially because her birthday is in May, which is just a perfect time of year.
Everyone celebrates with you in class. Everyone is in a good mood because it’s finally warm again.
Everyone is around for your party. Anyway, when I was nine, we had our first summer at sleepaway camp together.
We were young enough it wasn’t all about boys yet, but old enough to get into some trouble.
The perfect age really. On my tenth birthday, she got all the other girls in our cabin to throw me a surprise party.
At midnight, after our counselor had already snuck out to go drink with the other teenagers, they woke me up with party hats and balloons.
We broke into the snack closet and completely raided the candy drawer.
There was a dance party and costumes, then an impromptu game of truth or dare, which eventually ended up with all of us climbing the fence to get into the pool.
That’s when we got caught. I was a deer in headlights, but Mabel somehow managed to turn it around and convince the manager that we were out looking for our lost counselor.
That poor girl got in so much trouble. For the rest of the summer, all my cabinmates and I had to do was make eye contact a certain way and we’d all fall into cackling laughter.
I remember feeling like I’d finally made it.
Like I was finally part of something bigger than myself.
Like I finally belonged. And Mabel made that happen.
I like to think about that night when I think about my birthday.
It’s easier.
How did you celebrate as a kid? I feel like Coach Fleishman is a secret softie. He probably stood off to the side, grumbling about how there’s no cake allowed in the pool, when really he bought it for you himself. How far off am I?
August 21
From: [email protected]
Holy shit—you got to geotag a shark?! That sounds amazing!
There’s nothing quite that interesting going on here, though I did move back into the dorms today. Now that I’m finally out of my mom’s house, am I allowed to say how weird it always feels being back there?
When I think about that place, I go back to summers as a kid, running wild with Logan and Nova, stealing popsicles from the fridge or cannonballing off the boat dock or playing hide-and-seek in the pool house.
It’s so light and carefree. We had no responsibilities there.
We had no burdens. Logically, I know I’ve idealized it in my mind.
I’m sure I fought with Nova. I’m sure I yelled at my mom.
I’m sure I got pissed at my dad. But I don’t remember it.
The lake house as a kid was just pure happiness. Pure freedom.
But now when I go there, it’s heavy. I’m not entirely sure when that happened.
Is it just a product of growing up? We threw parties there as teenagers.
Logan and Nova started doing whatever it is they’re still doing today.
Things got…complicated. But it was still fun, I think.
Still an escape. To me, at least. But maybe not to Nova.
Moving there with my mom during high school took the magic out of it for her.
I mean, you met my mom. She’s brilliant when she wants to be, completely magnetic.
But when she goes to that dark place, it can be so hard to bring her back.
And Nova had to deal with all of that on her own.
I visited here and there between training when I could, but it wasn’t us against the world anymore.
And I feel that divide more in that house than I do anywhere else.
Anyway, wow. Sorry. I didn’t mean for things to get so depressing.