Page 24 of The Last Five Yards

Maren traces the same circles with her right foot, half turning toward her. “Do you mean the ceremony? All those people and cameras would definitely be weird to me.”

“No,” Reese says quietly. “Leaving.”

Maren’s heart stills. She doesn’t respond, the word leaving echoing repeatedly in her head.

Reese lets the word hang there. It feels heavier than the air around them.

For a long moment neither of them speak. The only sound is the soft churn of the filter and the tiny splash of Reese’s foot moving through the water.

Then, quietly, Reese says, “It doesn’t feel like leaving when it’s you.”

Maren turns toward her. “What?”

Reese doesn’t look up right away. “When I think about going, about everything that’s supposed to come next, it feels like I’m walking away from something I haven’t finished yet.”

Maren blinks, her throat tightening. “You mean diving?”

Reese shakes her head. “No. You.”

The words ripple between them, soft but certain.

Maren swallows, unsure what to do with her hands. She’s close enough to see the reflection of the pool lights in Reese’s eyes. “Then what does it feel like?” She asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Reese finally looks at her. “Like I finally know where home is, and I can’t take it with me.”

The air between them stills. Neither moves. Reese’s fingers trace the wet tile, stopping just short of Maren’s hand. For a second, it feels like the space between them could break open into something new. The overhead lights flick off with a heavy click, plunging the pool into darkness except for the emergency lights. For a second, neither one of them moves. The sudden quiet feels alive.

Reese giggles. “I think Coach Hensley is trying to tell us something.”

Maren doesn’t answer. Her eyes are still on the water, the ripples spreading out from where Reese’s foot breaks the surface.

Reese pulls her feet from the pool, standing slowly. “You’ll be ok here?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Maren says, her voice sounding very far away.

Reese hesitates, the outline of her figure haloed by the faint light from the exit sign. “Goodnight, Mini-Coach.”

“Goodnight,” Maren replies.

The door closes, and the sound echoes across the empty deck.

Maren sits there for a long time. The ripples fade, the hum of the filter fills the silence again. When she finally stands, she looks down at the still water.

It mirrors her perfectly.

She reaches down, brushing her fingers across the surface. The reflection breaks apart, scattering into pieces of light that rejoin as the ripple fades. She watches until her image comes back together again, quiet and whole, the water smoothing itself into calm.

10

The Last Lap

Maren takes the left and turns carefully into the parking lot. It’s starting to hit her that this will be her last practice. Why Coach Hensley wanted to end with a Saturday morning, she will never know. Sliding into her usual parking spot, she notices the sun hasn’t even begun to tip over the horizon.

She sits for a moment in the car, just taking it in. Down the sidewalk, the hallway lights click on one by one. The glow spills onto the pavement, familiar and sharp in the early blue light. She smiles to herself, wondering if Coach Hensley will get to sleep in next year or if someone else will start showing up just as early as she has for the past four seasons.

Walking inside, everything feels the same. The buzz of the fluorescent lights. The smell of chlorine hanging in the air, mixed with the faint gasoline drift from the auto shop across the hall. She opens the door to the pool, and humidity hits her hard enough to steal her breath. At least that’s what she tells herself. It’s the humidity. Still, she can’t ignore that everything looks exactly the same, yet somehow feels heavier, like the room itself knows this is the last time.

Passing the office. Coach Hensley gives her a small nod. She spots the unmistakable stack of pink boxes on the desk, donuts from her favorite shop in town. Off limits during the season, which makes this a real treat. She wonders what kind of deal the coach made to get them this early. The thought makes her smile, and she feels a small lift in her step as she heads toward the locker room. The weight in her chest has been tucked away for later.