Red Clay Summer

The Radiology Room allowed only parents as company, so Bianca headed down to the cafeteria, ready for the long evening ahead. She'd be going home with them after this to spend the night. As she took the first sip of her espresso, someone made her look up. It was Declan, in his red clay-stained tennis shorts and wide stubbled smile, having come straight from the club. He had seen her walk past the lobby and followed her into the cafeteria, eager to hear about Julián. Bianca offered him the seat to her left.

.............................................

Bianca reminded Declan of a classic Greek or Roman painting, something out of a vase or a fresco. Eyebrows drawn like an elegant brushstroke, thick and perfectly horizontal, before splitting downwards into wing-like spikes. Heart-shaped lips flanked by puffy cheeks and smile lines. Wavy black hair down to the base of her neck, skin the color of peanuts. There were curves under her swimsuit, uneven around the waist and hips, and a heavy bosom that she tried to hide by slouching on the short walk from the lounge chair to the pool.

They were swimming together. On Thursdays, the pool crowds usually cleared out right after lunch. Two older women dipped their feet while they watched over a kid playing in the shallow end. A middle-aged gentleman splashed around, noisily focused on swimming laps. Pedrito the caretaker fished out leaves. The next day was pool day for the army of Tennis Camp kids, usually set to constant yelling by Declan and his fellow coaches to keep the younger ones on the safe side of the rope. This was the calm before the storm.

For several minutes, Bianca and Declan talked only casual. About Viña. Missouri. The rules of American Football. All the while gravitating towards and away from each other in the water, like balls on a billiards table. Whether they meant it that way or not, it worked as a palate cleanser. On the day of Julián's incident, the talk in the hospital cafeteria had stretched out for over an hour. As a way of repaying Declan his interest in her supermarket career, she displayed genuine interest about his, not knowing that his mess had stayed private for a long while by that point, so unwrapping it for others to watch was deeply counterintuitive. Bianca poked and prodded skillfully. When he talked about choosing Water Resource Engineering, she asked why. When he told her about the "dream job" that he'd had for years, she asked to hear about it.

In truth, Declan had been fired. He had worked for four years at a company in charge of channel improvement at Kansas City's Blue River. It was an outdoor roughneck job that seemed to be teaching him everything vital about sliding into adulthood. In return, he had given it his all, aiming for a management job early on. It was also fertile ground for friends, where evening beers were a sacred ritual. Through a friend of a friend, he met Gabby. Within months they were living together. All very grown up.

When his project manager got rotated out, they saw it as the end of an era. It was actually the beginning of a bigger kind of end. Several members of the team got the shaft under the new leadership, but Declan was among "the lucky ones" initially kept on. He only had one quarter to feel lucky before he got the boot too. There was never a sit-down, just a letter, and he was left to speculate as to the reason for dismissal. It might have been a lack of kissing up to new management. Or they might have gotten wind of the fact that he had interviewed elsewhere. Or simply, and flatly, performance. He had never asked; therefore, he would never know. He hadn't imagined just how much worse that would make it for the years after. In his attempt at Life, he had made the leap, missed and fallen hard. The paralysis had yet to lift.

Bianca seemed to put two and two together on her own regarding the Gabby heartbreak. In turn, when it was his turn to be nosy, Declan didn't ask about Natasha's father. He still got more than he expected. Bianca told him she was a recovering alcoholic, sober for eight years since her last and only relapse. It was the kind of information that seemed to lift a veil on a person, adjusting their details and colors in an eyeblink. Without offering every detail herself, it became evident just how much of her life had needed to be built from scratch, and how much of it she had done entirely alone. For a long moment in that cafeteria, Declan had felt unworthy of her story. But Bianca, in all her modesty and softness and low-key approach to everything she said and did, was fiercely proud of it all.

Then she touched on her imminent departure from Viña and her voice raised an octave. She didn't want to go, no. She had just gotten the job of a lifetime a year prior, how could she? She was going because Natasha had asked her to. Begged her to. Partly because she found it unthinkable to separate Karina and Julián from their grandmother, and Bianca had to agree. If there was a reason to not want to stay in Viña by herself, they were it, and it was only after carefully considering a scenario where she would have to watch her grandchildren grow up from afar that Bianca agreed to go. But Natasha's loss of cool came in large part, Bianca knew, from Natasha's husband, who had somehow convinced her that her mother would suffer another relapse if left alone. It had triggered a bitter argument with her daughter reigned in only by Bianca's mastery at biting her tongue, made all the more suffocating by having both Felipe and Rodolfo arguing against her case. Maybe her son-in-law didn't want to bother finding a full-time nanny. Maybe he just wanted his wife happy and working unencumbered. Maybe his fears were genuine, however idiotic. In any case, he and Natasha were getting what they wanted.

In the water, however, none of it seemed to matter much.

"I hate six o'clock, it's when the cold starts," Bianca said, holding onto the edge of the pool to rearrange her swimming cap. The sun had mostly disappeared on the horizon, although there was still daylight for another hour. "It makes me a little sad. Makes me think I should have come earlier."

"There's always tomorrow," said Declan, doing a backstroke. "Although I don't recommend it. Not after forty little kids have used it."

"Oh, let them. They look forward to pool time all week."

"I love that you don't mind sharing."

"I don't," she laughed.

The red in Declan's chlorine-affected eyes somehow made the green in them shine brighter. He had a pleasant suntanned face, stuck in a semi-permanent superhero smile of big white teeth and a sharp chin covered in stubble. It hid so much so well, Bianca thought. He had stopped by the pool for a quick hello during her swim and she had suggested that he jump in, not really expecting him to want to. There was too much self-consciousness attached to having a pool companion and she initially counted this one as a "lost" afternoon in terms of relaxation. But as she heard him share enthusiastically about X, Y and Z and she became endeared to him all over again, she was reminded that there was a lot she had left unasked during their talk at the clinic. A lot she felt she could recommend. She wasn't going to bring it up at the pool, but what she had noticed about Declan was that he had a lot to share, and that he needed to. He was only waiting to be asked.

Declan leapt out of the pool and sat on the edge, creating a big puddle.

"Is it cold out there?" Bianca asked.

"Hmm, I'll wait three seconds and see." He thrust a hairy chest outwards. "One, two, three. Oof. Very."

"I really don't want to get out," she said dramatically, dipping herself back in up to her ears.

"I don't either," said Declan. "But I'm doing it in stages. I've wanted to go to the bathroom for an hour now. I've been holding it in just to stay warm."

She laughed hard at that one as she spun around slowly, creating delicious watery murmurs with her elbows. Declan leaned back on his arms, his bent knee protruding outwards. They stayed silent for a moment.

"All that the twins talk about is Disneyworld," Bianca said, joining Declan on the edge. She folded her arms on the stone and rested her face on them, as if taking a nap. Sun freckles covering her arms and shoulders from elbow to elbow. "I'm hoping they don't panic on the plane. It's their first time flying."

"When is it you're leaving?" he asked.

"Monday after next. Natasha, the twins and me."

"Not her husband?"

"No. Just us four." They would return to Viña only briefly before heading down to Santiago. The upcoming week was set to be the twins' last in Tennis Camp.

"Ok, bathroom time," Declan said, getting to his feet. "When you've gotta go, you've gotta go."

"Good!" said Bianca. "It's not OK what you're doing! Hurting your bladder."

"By the way," Declan began, throwing the towel around his neck, "how long are you staying in Viña after you come back from Orlando?"

"Not long. Two days, I think..."

"Then would you like to have dinner with me before you leave?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

"I'm thinking next Thursday? I assume Friday is a little heavy, it seems like a family night. And I have to do inventory." He removed his swim cap and began drying off his short hair. "But I'll wait for you to tell me what works best."

"I think Thursday's fine."

"Perfect! And don't worry, it's my treat."

.............................................

On Wednesday evening, Bianca made pizza with the kids. They spent the night tripping over her boxes and brainstorming the toppings they'd use. After much insistence on their part, Bianca let them experiment with gummy bears and Froot Loops. They ate their slices that way and liked them, proving her wrong.

She had them until four o'clock on Thursday. She used the morning to take them shopping for clothes for the trip, as Natasha had asked. It was all conducted on autopilot, as her mind was elsewhere. She had been turning Declan's invitation around in her head like a Tetris piece, testing the many ways in which it could fit. Having no one to discuss it with, she was stuck with her own conclusions.

Once enough t-shirts and shorts were bought and bagged, she stopped by Zara and got herself a loose denim shirt to wear that night. She would be matching it with dark jeans and a grey top. Plain colors for what she envisioned as a short evening. She got them lunch at the mall's food court, dropped them off at Natasha's afterwards and headed home to get ready.

She saw the evening ahead as a message that had to be sent gently, in doses. Declan had to have seen or heard enough to make him think she was open for invites, and she had to acknowledge her role in feeding that fire, however unintentionally. She hadn't felt, at the pool, that he deserved a flat no. During the week, however, she strongly considered making an explanatory call. The alarmist thoughts piled up in her head to the point where she had to consciously kick them out. For the first few days. Then she decided to postpone all thinking and make it a Thursday problem.

Declan arrived at the restaurant at 6:30, half an hour ahead of the date, in dress shoes, pressed jeans and a navy blue shirt, worried about his chosen amount of cologne. If pressed, he would have told Bianca that he wasn't expecting the world. He came from a habit of expressing interest without high stakes, like a kid making friends at the playground. No's had stopped hurting some time around high school. But if he felt things moving his way, his strategy would be, simply, the truth. He would admit he could guess younger men might not be her thing - but he wanted more. To talk a little more, get to know her more before she left. He would say he wished he had asked earlier in the summer. The truth was, he liked her a good deal more than he planned to reveal. He wanted a chance to tell her she looked ike an amalgam of all the Italian movie bombshells from the 1960s. And that he hoped to be able to see more of her even after she moved to Santiago.

Come 7:00, Bianca still hadn't arrived. 7:15 came and went and he thought nothing of it, killing time by playing Snake on his cellphone. By quarter to 8 he had broken his record, yet still no sign of Bianca. He had her home number, so he called once. No answer. He left at 8:15.

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A rule-breaker Bianca was not. She had little trouble following them. In her experience, roles and lines that were set and drawn from the start needed no extra explanation - so watching someone plow right through them felt transgressive and left her puzzled, like watching a friend shoplift, then not knowing whether to stay in the store or tag along.

On Thursday afternoon, she arrived home from the mall ready to cancel on Declan, having made the decision in the car. She would make it up to him by buying him lunch at the club - an appropriate send-off for the young coach with the scarred past and the heart of gold. They would talk and she would get to dish out the life advice she had been sitting on.

Her phone started ringing just as she opened the front door, so she never got to make the call. It was Liliana from the supermarket. In anxious tones she told Bianca that the payroll system had crashed just as checks were being drawn... could she come help? Bianca gave an immediate Yes, as she had hoped to hear her help was wanted much earlier than this. Liliana asked if she was indeed free. Bianca said that she was.

She left her Fiat in a random spot in the parking lot, as her old one was now taken, and headed straight to the office on the second landing. Strangely, all the lights were off. A second later, they came back on just as a small crowd of employees startled her with a chorus of "¡Sorpresa!" Mari carried a cake with a goodbye message. Viviana hugged her from behind, Berta from the front. Saying hi to all the old faces kept Bianca busy and masked her urge to cry.

They were hours away from closing, but her old employees rotated themselves out so everyone could get a little cake and a goodbye hug. Even before leaving her apartment, Bianca tried calling Declan's number several times, and she kept doing so at the party in between the laughs and chatter, but there was no answer. It occurred to her that she might have made a mistake in transferring the number from her hand, where Declan had written it, into her book. Nines that looked like fours, threes that looked like fives. The thought of standing someone up gave her serious anxiety that kept her from fully enjoying her sendoff. Then Berta came for a chat, and everything else took a backseat. The topics pinballed around fast - from the twins to Natasha to Santiago - and Bianca knew where it would land, because they'd had this conversation before. This time around, it all packed a different punch, even as it built up to the exact same question as last time: "Why? Why are you leaving?" At that point, the only honest answer was that she had already said she would.

She left the party with a smile on her face, but a feigned one, feeling as if she was tearing herself away from the place and that every new step towards the car ripped more and more of that invisible binding tissue. As she pulled out of her parking spot, she wondered how long it would be, once they all moved to Santiago, until a decision felt entirely her own again.

On Friday morning, she arrived with the twins to the club earlier than usual, hoping to talk to Declan before he got swimming day going. She found him right away by the pool with an armload of styrofoam noodles. He gave her the same old huge smile when he saw her, not a microsecond of delay. Bianca explained how things had played out on her end. Declan nodded along to the details. Then Bianca brought up lunch. Would he want to, after coaching? He answered that he had inventory to do and he usually worked right through lunch on Fridays to get it all done before six. She laid a genuinely apologetic hand on his shoulder. "Schedules just don't match sometimes," he said, she agreed, and they smiled at each other before heading back to their respective spots. It all happened very courteously.

Bianca didn't swim that morning, despite wearing her bathing suit underneath. She walked to the club's restaurant and, while the twins did their pool games with Declan, began writing him a letter. Just like the ones her aunt would write to her during those first few years as a single mother. Then again during rehab. Subconsciously, she even employed the same structure. Her personal impression of him, as flattering as she could make it. Bits of personal experience peppered throughout, in the context of his struggles. Finding spots to fit the terms "promising" and "potential". It was all sincere, and surprisingly easy. She was done with it by noon.

She went back to the lounge chair area, currently loaded with parents, and waited for the swimming to be over. The letter in her hands, folded elegantly into its own envelope, excited her, as did any work that depended on the reaction and approval of the recipient. She hoped strongly, as she watched Declan merrily direct a Waterpolo game, that she had said the right things, even through the condescension. That her words did him good.

As usual, the swarm of wet kids chaotically invaded the lounge chairs the second they were dismissed. Karina and Julián stayed in the water with friends while Declan came up to the stands to have a word with a parent. As soon as he was free, Bianca beckoned him closer.

"Hi," he said, happily soaked, his towel around his neck.

"Hi," she said, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. "A good lesson?"

"A really good one. They made me work out for real. I'm sorry, am I dripping on you?"

"Oh, you're fine. The kids are gonna splash all over me when they come anyway."

"They were really great today," he said, drying his face. "Did you see Karina, finally playing with everyone? I'm really gonna miss them."

"You've been incredible with them, I guarantee it's reciprocal." She got to her feet, her heart beating fast. "I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And to give you this."

She extended him the letter. Declan did a strange thing. Smiling widely still, he kept his eyes on her face, never looking down at the letter. His head tilted sideways, as if studying her. Strong flirting vibes. She laughed at that.

"A little goodbye message," she added, explanatorily. "Declan, I think you have enormous potential. And you're going to find success, whether it's..."

He held her hand with cold wet fingers and gently pushed the letter back towards her.

"I really want to read that," he said firmly. She hadn't heard that from him before. "I really want to. But I'm going to the storage room now. I would like to read it there."

She smiled at what she thought was a joke.

"I'm going to the storage room," he repeated seriously. "And I want you to give it to me there."

Bianca stood on the spot for a long moment after he walked away. Karina and Julián snapped her out of her trance. They came over with another set of siblings their age, Daniel and Soraya, begging to be allowed to have lunch with them. Rebeca, their mom, joined in on the begging. She and Bianca had had good talks on the stands and Bianca vaguely remembered them talking about doing lunch together some time.

It was on the doorstep of the restaurant that Bianca stopped on her tracks. She had suddenly remembered, she told Rebeca, that she had to discuss the reimbursement for a deposit with Front Desk. The twins won't be partaking in next week's barbecue, you see, because we're leaving for the States on Monday. No trouble at all, Rebeca said, I'll eat with all the littles and you'll join us when you're done. Bianca asked once, twice, three times if she was sure, then thanked her profusely.