encountering; she'd talk about the ups and downs of Philip's life as a third grader; she'd find a new way to say thanks for the things Andrew kept giving her, and walk on eggshells around Gregory. With all that going on, the moments of the afternoon would fade and be lost forever.
In her mind, Ivy saw Tristan in slow motion, swimming in a circle around her. She remembered the way his hands had felt when he helped her float, the way he had slowly tilted her head back in the water. She trembled with pleasure, and a little fear.
Angels, don't let go of me! she prayed.
This was something different from a crush. This was something that could flood out every other thought and feeling.
Maybe I should back out now, Ivy thought, before I'm in over my head. I'll call him tonight.
But then she remembered how he had pulled her through the water, his face full of light and laughter.
Ivy didn't see the car coming. Lost in thought, responding only to what was directly in front of her, she didn't see the dark car run the stop sign until the very last second. She slammed on her brakes. Both cars squealed and spun around, and for a moment were side by side, lightly touching. Then they veered away from each other. Letting her breath out slowly, Ivy sat still in the middle of the intersection.
The other driver threw open his door. A stream of four-letter words came rushing at her. Without even glancing in his direction, Ivy rolled up her window and checked her door locks. The shouting stopped suddenly. Ivy turned to look coolly at the driver.
'Gregory!'
She put her window down.
His skin was pale except for the scarlet that had crept up his cheeks. He stared at her, then glanced around the intersection, looking surprised, as if he were just now recognizing where he was and what had happened.
'Are you okay?' she asked.
'Yes… yes. Are you?'
'Well, I'm breathing again.'
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I–I wasn't paying attention, I guess. And I didn't know it was you, Ivy.'
Though his anger had subsided, he still looked upset.
'That's okay,' she said. 'I was driving in a daze, too.'
He glanced through the window at the wet towel on her front seat.
'What are you doing around here?' he wanted to know.
She wondered if he would make the connection between the wet towel and swimming and Tristan. But she hadn't even told Beth or Suzanne what she was doing. Besides, it wouldn't matter to Gregory.
'I needed to think about something. I know it sounds crazy, with all the space we have at the house, but I, well-' 'Needed other space,' he finished for her. 'I know how that is. Are you heading home now?'
'Yes.'
'Follow me.' He gave her a brief, lopsided smile. 'Behind me, you'll be safer.'
'You're sure you're okay?' she asked. His eyes still looked troubled.
He nodded, then returned to his car.
When they arrived home, Andrew pulled into the driveway after them.
He greeted Ivy, then turned to Gregory. 'So how is your mother?'
Gregory shrugged. 'Same as always.'
'I'm glad you went to visit her today.'
'I gave her your good wishes and fondest regards,' Gregory said, his face and voice deadpan.
Andrew nodded and stepped around a spilled box of colored chalk. He bent over to look at what had once been clean, white concrete at the edge of his garage.
'Is anything new with her? Is there anything I should know about?' he asked. He was studying the chalk drawings done by Philip; he didn't catch the pause, didn't see the emotion on Gregory's face that passed as fast as it came. But Ivy did.
'Nothing new,' he said to his father.
'Good.'
Ivy waited till the door closed behind Andrew.
'Do you want to talk about it?' she asked Gregory.
He spun around, as if he had forgotten that she was there.
'Talk about what?'
Ivy hesitated, then said, 'You just told your father that everything's fine with your mom. But from the look on your face, at the intersection and just now, when you were talking about her, I thought maybe…'
Gregory played with his keys. 'You're right. Things aren't fine. There may be some trouble ahead.'
'With your mother?'
'I can't talk about it. Look, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle this myself. If you really want to help me, then don't say anything to anyone, all right? Don't even mention our little run-in. Promise me.' His eyes held hers.
Ivy shrugged. 'Promise,' she said. 'But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.'
'In the middle of an intersection,' he said, giving her one of his wry smiles, then went inside.
Before going in, Ivy stopped to study Philip's concrete masterpiece. She recognized the bright aqua of her water angel, and the strong brown lines of Tony. After a moment, she identified the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. Philip's dragons were easy to spot; they usually looked as if they had swallowed a vat of lighter fluid, and they always fought the Power Rangers and angels.
But what was that? A round head, with funny bits of hair and an orange stick coming out of each ear?
The name was scrawled on the side. Tristan.
Picking up a piece of black chalk, Ivy filled in two olive teeth. Now he looked like the guy who was kind enough to cheer up an eight-year-old having a very tough day. Ivy remembered the look on Tristan's face when she had yanked open the storeroom door. She threw back her head and laughed.
Back out now? Who was she kidding?
Tristan was sure he had scared Ivy away that first day, but she came back, and from the second lesson on he was very careful. He barely touched her; he coached her like a professional; and he kept dating what's her name and that other girl. But it was getting more difficult for him each day, being alone with Ivy, standing so close to her, hoping for some sign that she wanted something other than lessons and friendship.
'I think it's time, Ella,' he said to the cat after two frustrating weeks of lessons. 'She's not interested, and I can't stand it anymore. I'm going to get Ivy to sign up at the Y.'
Ella purred.
'Then I'm going to find myself a monastery with a swim team.'
The next day he made a conscious decision not to change into his bathing suit. He pocketed a brochure for the Y, strode out of the pool office, then stopped.
Ivy wasn't there. She forgot, he thought, then he saw Ivy's towel and ponytail holder down by the deep end. 'Ivy!'
He ran to the edge of the pool and saw her in the twelve-foot section, lying all the way at the bottom, motionless. 'Oh, my God!'
He dove straight off the side, pulling, pulling through the water to get to her. He yanked her up to the surface and swam for the pool's edge. It was difficult; she had come to and was struggling with him. His clothes were an extra, dragging weight. He heaved Ivy up on the side of the pool and sprang up beside her.
'What in the world-?' she said.
She wasn't coughing, wasn't sputtering, wasn't out of breath. She was just staring at him, at his soaked shirt, his clinging jeans, his sagging socks. Tristan stared back, then threw his waterlogged shoes as far as he could, down several rows of bleachers.
'What were you doing?' she asked.
'What were
She opened her hand to show him a shiny copper penny. 'Diving for this.'
