good for you

Then he realizes November always starts out in this way: the leaves change color, trees bloom red, and the worried people where he lives all stop going to the residential swimming pool because the water is too cold and it’s too hard to swim, and really enjoy it you know? Neighbors speak and close their doors and windows. Leaves and rocks float in the chlorine arduously without concern like a dream he once had, someplace post the ending of the world and still we have buoyancy of water and what murky colors are perceived, like the descendant of blue, feel really good. Still there is the incomprehensible nature of the earth and her forces, the way seasons change over people like some anxious puppeteer, and Rivers thinks how much he never wanted an answer, but only someone willingly enough to ask him all the questions. The water jets therapeutically and softly into the psyche and alien pool lighting.

Samantha asks him if he wants to swim.

Rivers says nothing but begins undressing. Giddy does he moves and finds his swimming trunks, she says that’s much too small for him. The day blinks into rain and black crisp evening suddenly yet the stars are still closed like sleep, and Sam does not take her shoes purse or jacket when she bursts through the apartment’s heavy door into the carpeted hallway and she says freedom like she can smell it. Like poppies embed the walls and low ceilings, to resuscitate her. Barefoot they are together simultaneously but barely. Samantha speeds ahead, ass perfect like an ugly duckling that knows too well how her narrative is going to end and walks rather too safely from harm. Rivers hates that she never waits up for him but learns quickly to brush it off, like he does the rain and the June bugs, how he endures cold weather.  Beauty like this, becomes a nuisance. Makes a clapping motion in the heart that’s painful, much too late too ugly to communicate. They are getting to a point, there is not much to talk about but stew and moot. He refuses to match her pace.

A man only becomes a misogynist only after he knows what love is, Rivers thinks. After his hands have occupied a few holes in his life and the smell always changes. He would like a rose to smell like a rose every time. God damn it.

Logic shakes his own head. He does not know what he is really saying no to. The pool is perfect and vacant and the water moves like it’s breathing. They jump the wrought iron fence despite having a key to get in.

Earlier in the day they decide to call off their long engagement to get married, publicly mutually. Earlier in the week, they send out expensive beautiful invitations, announcing how exciting everything was. How lovely it is to see everyone to celebrate their union. RSVPs arrive back with letters, money and congratulations: yes, we’ll be there.

Together they pull the slow dragging blue tarp from the water along the concrete and stare at the no horseplay sign beneath the diving board.  The Jacuzzi opens like an orchid but purrs like a machine it still is.

I would love for a swim Sam says.

He dives in first. The water feels good.

High speeds and cruel worlds flow into his imagination through his ears, like a deep deaf day dreaming session under water, and he imagines how life is going to be like from now on. How much uglier are his secrets going to get? How more so alone will the training feel? Touching the bottom, the depths of the pool pop his hearing, and magically in the moment, Sam dives in too and he can see her descending; everything foams around where she touches. She curves beneath like a mermaid appearing so free and expansive, and it’s a tragic feeling, feeling so distant from her like she’s a new species. Rivers’ anger stirs his mind darkly until he breathes out. Realizes his lungs are still there and thinks and ponders, it’s not worth it. It’s our last night together. Stop this.

Who would play the asshole tonight? Or the man?

They both surface. Lights murk with the water and her hair looks flat and at peace like seaweed.

He imagines an empty seat at the arena, close to the ring. Another lonely box.

You look like a swimmer he says.

You look like a champion she says.

Do you want to get out? Try the hot tub?

Sure she says.

He follows. Wet footsteps. The Jacuzzi.

Right now he does not feel like a fighter, but she is easy to be around.