The Palmer Pool

9 | Every Thought

When I peeked out of the water, I was surrounded by a group of girls floating on their backs in black tanks and white swim caps that snapped below the chin. As I swam away from their formation they kicked their legs into the air. Rose was standing right at the edge of the pool in her swimsuit, chirping directions. I ducked back underwater.

I wanted to avoid Walter and Rose as much as possible because I didn't want to change any part of their lives. What if I distracted Rose when I showed up during her class and she slipped into the water, hit her head on the edge of the pool and died? Or what if, less tragically, I somehow interrupted Walter asking her out that day? Would they still end up together? If they didn't, would I simply disappear, along with my dad and my brother, my aunt and cousins? The possibilities for screwing everything up seemed endless.

When I came up for air a navy blue pickup truck with the City of Palmer seal on the door pulled up to the curb. Walter got out and called out her name. They met at the fence and while she had her back to me, I climbed out of the pool.

The swimmers were too distracted watching their pretty teacher in a romantic exchange to notice me behind them, running to the locker room fully clothed and dripping. I watched the rest of the scene from the doorway, and it was exactly as I had pictured it before: Walter gripping the fence as if he might fall over without its support and Rose blushing and nodding. It was a riveting sight, because although I knew I wasn't witnessing an event that would change the world, it was one that would change my world.

My white dress with blue flowers was still hanging in the locker with the jammed door. I peeled off my wet dress and hung it on a hook in the locker. It was another thrift store find; a muted red shirt dress with cap sleeves, a line of small pearly white buttons up the top and a skirt that fell in soft pleats. I was able to take the dry dress out, so I stepped into it and zipped up the side.

I was exhausted, but determined to go straight to Pete's house. My plan was to find him, apologize and thank him again, and see if putting my visits back in order would help him remember me. Then I'd go right back home. I wouldn't even give myself a chance to pass out somewhere. I'd have to stop accidentally staying away overnight; it was going to get me in trouble.

When I arrived at the familiar butter yellow house, there was a man sitting in a chair on the porch smoking a cigarette. I assumed he was Pete's dad, but there was no obvious resemblance. His square jaw, puffy eyes and wide nose with a slight crook to the left gave him a brutish look. His light brown hair was combed over neatly, and he wore a pair of suspenders over a white undershirt that was stretched across his broad chest. A broadcast of a baseball game drifted from a radio inside the front window. When the old-timey announcer's voice slowed after a play, I tried to get his attention.

"Excuse me?" His forehead wrinkled as he raised his eyebrows and flicked his cigarette over an ashtray. "I'm looking for Pete. Is he home?"

"He's working." He rose to his feet and rested a thick hand on the black wrought iron porch rail. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Can you remind me where he works?"

"Down at Bill's."

"The hardware store?"

"The garage."

He narrowed his blue eyes at me and took a long drag. I dropped my gaze to a garden statue of the Virgin Mary in a powder blue cloak that was nestled in the flowerbed. A bird landed on Mary's outstretched arm, cocked its head at me and flew away.

"Which one is Bill's?" I asked as I glanced down the street. He was making me uneasy.

"By the fire station."