Lighthouse

In the water I was free.

In the water... I could fly.

I was a fish; the sounds of the world were muted, everything hidden behind the mirror shimmer of the interface between liquid and air...

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Breath. Stroke. Stroke...

Someone was waiting to join my lane.

I grumbled, took a few more strokes, then slowed as I neared the wall. I lifted my head from the water, peered upwards through my fogging goggles.

Sue was sitting on one of the start blocks, clad in a pale blue swimsuit that looked like it had seen a lot of sun.

I reached out and touched the wall out of habit to mark my length as finished, then hung there by one hand as I stared up at her.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey there."

"God, you're elegant," she said. "You barely make a ripple."

"Years of drills," I said, trying not to let the sourness of my lost childhood seep into my voice. But she smiled down at me, so I'd clearly hidden them well.

"Well, it shows. I mean... I know nothing about it, but you look fast, and I imagine that's part of it..."

I grinned. "It's part of it. Are you coming in?"

She dipped a toe in, and winced. "Christ, that's cold."

Then she took a deep breath, and rolled forward off the block and into the water; I spluttered as her wave filled my mouth.

"Oh God," she gasped as she surfaced. "Oh God, it's worse than I expected."

"You'll get used to it after a while," I said, sympathetically. "Your body will acclimatise."

"It had better. Or this will be an expensive white elephant," she spluttered. "I should have thought ahead and bought myself some goggles. Okay. God. Okay. It's a bit better. Think I'm getting used to it. Jesus Christ..."

She spun inelegantly, pushed herself unevenly away from the wall, and began to make her way towards the far side of the pool.

She was a terrible swimmer; I felt almost bad for her.

But I bottled up any desire to advise her, rolled over onto my back, and kicked off, easily matching speed with her under moderate leg power alone as we inched our way down to the far side.

"Show off," she gasped as she reached the shallow end and put her feet down. She scrubbed droplets out of her eyes.

I grinned, not bothering to deny it.

"So go on," she panted. "Tell me how terrible I am. Bet you're dying to..."

"No."

"No?"

"No. It's not my place. You're clearly not aquatic. What right do I have to judge you?"

She gave me a strange, almost angry look - then her expression abruptly cleared. "Fine. Then I'll ask you directly. What do I need to do to get better at this?"

"Ready for the first thing?" I said, amused.

"Yes."

I took off my goggles, reached out, and slipped them over her head. She made a soft noise but didn't move as I adjusted them to her face.

"You know how to keep water out of your nose?"

"Sort of. I think so," she said, sounding slightly flustered.

"OK. That's the first bit. Face in the water, breathe out through your nose if you have to so you don't swallow water. Second thing - get your bum up."

"My bum. You want me to get my bum up. You actually said those words."

She sounded scandalised, and I laughed at her.

"Yeah. Up, towards the surface. It will streamline you."

"Oh," she said. "That... that kind of makes sense. Huh."

And for the next thirty minutes we worked on transforming her from terrible to merely awful. She gasped and cursed; I kept my iron discipline, my coach persona, and didn't let even an ounce of anything but professionalism show - even when I took her hand and showed her how to place it cleanly on each stroke and wound up far closer to her than I think either of us were anticipating I would be.

She had this way of watching me that made it hard for me to speak; she had a crooked smile that, when occasionally deployed, was like a cricket bat to the back of my head.

All too soon, though, she was visibly shivering.

"Sorry. Freezing. Going to turn into a corpsicle," she said, through chattering teeth. "Gotta get out now."

"Off you go then."

"You going to get out now too?"

"I've got some more lengths to swim first," I said.

She pulled off my goggles and handed them to me.

"Thanks, Ian," she said. "Thanks for being so patient. I can see why those kids like you so much."

She stared at me for a moment, then turned, reached up for the ladder rail and started to climb up out of the pool.

And as she did so I watched her; watched her with an intensity that should really have shamed me. But she was so elegant, and so lithe, and so very much my type, that looking away from her would be like trying to give up breathing.

And then as the lovely curves of her frankly stunning bum cleared the surface, I realised just how little her faded costume actually hid.

The slight gap between her thighs framed her crotch, and the smooth outline of her lips was faint but clear under the pale, damp blue of her swimsuit fabric.

I flushed scarlet, looked quickly away, and then ducked my head under the surface for a long while to cool my flaming face.

It didn't really help.

I finished my allotted lengths, then dolphin-kicked down to the bottom of the deep end for a good, hearty, frustrated scream as I had so often done in my teens.

I climbed out, donned my human face, and walled my frustration up somewhere where not even a glimmer of it showed.

I showered mechanically, got dressed, and was just making my way to the safety of the exit when I felt a cool hand snag my arm.

"Ian?" she said softly from behind me.

I turned to face her, hid everything deep.

"Oh, hey. I thought you'd left."

"No... I was waiting for you. Um... would you like a coffee for the road?"

I stared down at her.

She seemed smaller, somehow, and something, some instinct, told me that 'yes' was the only answer I should give.

So I smiled and followed her, torturing myself with every step she took.

.:.

On her off nights she would come through to the gym for an hour's swimming instruction and what quickly became our coffee date afterwards. The blue swimsuit disappeared after the first session - I guess she'd caught sight of herself in a mirror and realised just how little it left to the imagination. The replacement was jet black, with inlaid purple flashes down the side. It hid more but still showed off her lithe form, and though I missed the blue one and everything it had... presented... I had to admit that she looked fantastic.

And I could feel a bit less guilty about how much I liked watching her.

As the weeks drew on her technique and fitness improved, and soon enough she could swim multiple lengths without stopping - even venturing the occasional tumble turn.

And each time we swam together I struggled to keep my coach and friend face on. She was often well within my personal space as we bobbed in the water, discussing her technique.

Water time with her became the thing I looked forward to - two or more hours a week of conversation, banter and the very close presence of an extremely attractive, wonderful woman.

I kept up my ocean swimming; she started to pay attention to the weather and tides and would often be waiting for me on the beach as I emerged, salty and drained. As the weather cooled she began to bring a thermos of coffee with her, and I came to depend on her presence there; she and our time together became the reason I would brave the cooling water.

Afterwards, she'd walk back to the car park beside me, sometimes with her arm linked through mine, and I'd pretend to myself that she was my lover while we talked about her job or my job or life or our plans for her next lesson with me. We'd dawdle by her car, and she'd never seem to be in any hurry to end our time together.

I'd stare down at her, wishing that I knew what she was thinking...

One Autumn evening, as I was about to say my final goodbye, she stepped in towards me and wrapped her arms tightly around me.

Flustered, I hesitated.

"Aren't you going to hug me back?" she asked, almost sadly.

So I did, with spades, nearly crushing her to me as I enfolded her and squeezed her until she squeaked.

She burrowed in against me.

"Thank you for being such a good... friend," she breathed.

She pulled back and gave me a long look.

I closed her door for her and stood there, watching as she reversed out and drove off.

And then, frustrated and confused, I stood for some time just staring out at the dimming horizon, wishing hopelessly for some sign from on high.

Of course, none came.

Sue seemed distracted and slightly distant at our next swim session; she didn't joke around as much as she usually would. But by the following lesson she seemed back to herself, and I swiftly forgot her offishness.

Our routine had changed now - now she'd expect a goodbye hug, and I was glad to oblige - no matter how much it tested my resolve.

And it felt to me like she wanted more. She'd hold herself to me, tight up against me; I'd be able to feel everything from the firm muscles of her flat stomach, to the slight convexity of her thighs against mine, to the exquisite pressure from her small but no-doubt perfect breasts, sheathed under what I feverishly imagined would be a thin sports-bra of some sort or another.

I'd work hard to control my immediate physical response, clenching my knees tightly against one another to try to delay the onset of my erection.

Sometimes she'd pull back slightly and stare up at me, lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something, blue eyes unreadable behind the ever-present curls of her fringe...

Those were the nights I'd lie awake, tortured by my feelings for her, by my desire to kiss her, to pick her up in my arms and hook her legs around me and be as close to her as I could be.

I wanted her with an almost physical pain.

It became harder and harder to resist.

And, at last, on one cold Tuesday evening where she'd been liberal with her glances and touches - I ran out of willpower.

She stood as she always did, in the pose she had that telegraphed that she was about to turn for her car. Her hair was tucked untidily back behind her right ear, a few stray strands curling forward over her eyes as she stared up at me. She took a breath, opened her mouth to speak...

And something deep in me snapped, and, unthinking, I leaned forward and kissed her.

I felt her hands twitch against me, and for a moment she leaned in against me and made a sound that sounded... almost glad.

Then the moment passed.

She pushed hard at my chest.

I pulled back to look down at her, to better see her response and try to work out...

"Stop. Stop, please," I heard her say. She was trembling violently, and she took a shaking breath...

"Sue..."

She struggled. "No. No. Stop. Let go. Let me go, let me go!"

I could hear the panic in her voice.

I released her, stepped back and away from her, shaken by her reaction to me.

"Sue, what is it?"

"I've... I've got to go," she panted. "I've got to go..."

She turned, scrabbled at her car door, got in and slammed it behind her. I watched her fumbling with her keys and gear lever. Then I had to leap out of the way as she pulled out, tyres squealing on the grimy asphalt.

"What on earth..." I breathed, followed by a "Oh... for fuck sakes," as the enormity of my mistake came crashing down on me.

She hadn't wanted me to kiss her.

She didn't like or want me in that way.

I'd gone way beyond what she wanted.

And now, thanks to my stupid impulsiveness, I'd just lost my friend for good.

Again.

I swore. Quietly, but for some time and with venom. I turned, walked to my car and climbed in. In a moment of wild rage at my stupidity I screamed and thumped the steering wheel, accomplishing nothing but giving myself some painful bruising on the heels of my hands. Bitter and disillusioned, I eventually managed to start my car.

Then I sat, wondering what the fuck I would do.

I couldn't face being home alone right now.

I couldn't be around people.

I couldn't go back into the gym.

So all that remained to me was the mournful, reliable companionship of the sea.

It didn't take me long to get there, and I slammed the car door hard behind me before stomping up the path and down the far side towards the waves.

I slumped down onto the freezing cold sand and sat, staring out at the moonlit water.

Distant ships' lights made their way slowly south along the coast, and the Lighthouse's slow-slow-fast flashes counted out the progress of my evening in neat, fifteen-second slices.

I felt like a colossal fool.

All my life I'd struggled to understand women. I'd lost far too many female friends and potential partners due to my own stupidity.

Sue was now just another casualty.

All those long looks, the hugs, her touches, her infrequent but breath-taking smiles - all lost to me now, thanks to me not understanding that to her I was just... a friend.

I was furious with myself for wrecking something so special.

"You're a class one idiot," I ranted at myself. "You stupid fucking drop-kick. Great job, Ian, really splendid work. Sublime."

I stared out at the horizon line, watching as stars slowly crawled upwards out of the haze.

There would be no more talks. No more coffees. No more watching smiles and laughter flit across her face as she bobbed up and down beside me, with our only care whether she could trim half a second off her personal best.

Slowly my rage faded, subsiding into dull, bitter frustration.

I'd not forgive myself for this one, that was for sure. Not in a million years.

There wouldn't ever be another girl like her.

The cold slowly settled into my bones, but still I stayed, unwilling to be alone at home without the comforting hiss of the outgoing waves to ground me.

But at last I had to admit defeat and cede the sand to the encroaching midnight chill.

I made for my car, crawled shivering into the back seat, and dragged one of the tattered blankets I kept there over myself to ward off the worst of the cold.

I tucked my face into the corner between door, seat and backrest as I had many times before, and screwed my eyes tightly closed against the loneliness and the threatening tears of self-pity.

Eventually exhaustion claimed me.

But the respite it brought was short-lived, for when I woke to the dim grey dawn I had nothing waiting for me but the miserable drive home to shower and change and get ready for a day in a job that I now had no motivation to do.

As much as I wanted, needed to speak to her, I didn't dare reach out.

And as the days passed, neither did she.

.:.

I watched my "otters" like a hawk, hiding all my despair deep and giving the kids my full and undivided attention from behind a pleasant, smiling mask.

They worked their hearts out for me as they always did; and I patrolled back and forth, pacing them along the side of the pool, calling out advice and instructions, eyes only for them and the clock. As they emerged from the water, I had my habitual brief conversations with them and their parents over what to work on for the next session.

If any of them picked up on my mood, none mentioned it.

And at last I was free. Free to mope, free to agonise, free to miss my friend with a physical pain in my chest.

I made sure my kids had all left and then slouched my way towards the pool exit; intending to make for the changing rooms.

I would force lengths upon myself until my body gave out, as had become my nightly routine. That way, at least, dreamless sleep took me, sparing me from hours of memories of her voice and the hurt I'd heard in it the last time I'd seen her...

I adjusted my tog bag on my shoulder and reached for the door's handle - then paused as the doors swung open away from me...

And there she stood.

She made a strange noise and froze, staring up at me.

I stood still, watching her, waiting for some look of disgust or anger to cross her face, waiting for her to turn away from me again.

A breath, a second, and then she came straight to me, reached out, and wrapped her arms around me, heedless of how the door swung shut behind her and bumped her against me.

I couldn't control the shudder that ran through my body.

She clung to me; sighing softly as I slowly, hesitantly wrapped my own arms around her and buried my face in her hair.

"Hey," I breathed, when my heart stopped trying to escape through my throat.

"Oh God, I missed your hugs," she whispered. "Ian... I... I wanted to... apologise."

"No. Please, don't. I'm the one..."

"No," she said, shaking her head against my chest. "I'm the fuckup. You were completely innocent. I... I needed to say sorry for how I left you. And how I've left you since then. I had things to... deal with."

"Um. How about... how about we both say sorry. And... maybe, start over?"

"That... that would be nice," she said. She tightened her grip and tucked her head in under my chin.

"Are you here to swim?"

"No," she mumbled. I felt her shake her head. She pulled away slightly. "Not tonight. Tonight I'm here just for you. I... I needed to see you. I needed to talk to you."

"Oh. Okay... though that sounds a bit... ominous."

She glanced up at me, then away. "It... is."

"Right. OK. So...where do you want to... talk?"

"A table at the cafe will do," she said. "A quiet one. Out of the way," she added. She let me go and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as if she were cold.

I bumped the doors open and held them for her; she snuck past me and I followed her to the cafe. I ordered our coffees and then, nervous and uncertain, I joined her at a corner table.

I took a breath, trying to think of what to say and how to say it...

"Let me go first," she said suddenly.

"Um. OK."

"Sorry. It's just... it's just, I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for how I reacted. How I... freaked out. And I need to tell you about what caused... it... before I lose my nerve..."

"It's OK..."

"It really isn't," she said, glancing up at me. "If it were me I'd want to know why I reacted... that way. Like you'd... hurt me. You didn't. I just..."

She paused, sighed.

"So tell me," I nudged.

She clutched her coffee cup.

"I like you, Ian," she breathed.

"Oh. Er...good?" I flailed.

"I like you very much. You've always been so gentle with me. So... patient. There have been many times that I've wished that you weren't so patient. Times when I wanted... well... you know..."

"For me to... kiss you?" I said, unsure.

She glanced at me, then away again.

"Yes. Among... other things."

"Oh."

I felt myself blushing.

She sipped her coffee.

"Tell me what's worrying you," I said. "I want to help, if I can..."

"I'm... trying to think of how much detail I can give you. How much I can tell you without... well..."

"This is not helping my nerves any."

"You should try it from my side," she whispered. She took a breath, held it, let it out. "You know what? Fuck it. You... you deserve to know all of it. It's pointless trying to filter this anyway. There's too much to unpack."

She turned to face me, staring straight at me, face suddenly a neutral mask that was many times more disturbing than any other expression could have been.

"I died last year, more or less." she said, soft and matter of fact.

I wasn't sure if I'd heard her correctly.

"Sorry, what? You... you... died?"

I stared at her, looking for some sign that she was screwing with me.

"My heart stopped in the ambulance on the way to A&E. From blood loss."

"Jesus Christ... what... how..."

"I was... stabbed. By my... by... the man I was... with. I wanted to leave him. He... wasn't keen on the idea. We fought. He got physical. I hit him in the face as hard as I could to try to get away. So obviously his answer was to... to..."