Love Heals

Chapter 9

“Should I have asked her out?” Emilio asked Cameron, cane tap-tap-tapping on the wooden floor.

“I thought you already did that,” Cameron said trying his level best to sound relatively disinterested.

“I mean yeah we had a great date. But she didn’t say anything about another date when I saw her at aqua therapy and she didn’t try to grope me or touch me inappropriately at all.”

Cameron laughed, “That’s the first time I’ve heard those words used as complaint. Did you try to grope her?”

“Dude. What you take me for? I’m a gentleman.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious!”

“Well don’t make the same mistake you made before. Talk to her.”

“Yeah yeah,” Emilio said collapsing on the sofa. He looked around their shared apartment with a sigh.

“Hey Cameron, don’t you think it’s time we got our own places?”

“What? You tired of me Milo?”

“Nah. It’s just…if I’m gonna move on to the next phase of my life, I should have my own place. And it’s not like we can’t afford it right?”

Cameron was staring at him, with a strange look on his face, “You’re really gone on her huh?”

Emilio didn’t say anything. He just shrugged.

*****

Emilio grew to like it.

Not that he hated water per se, but the swimming pool had always been associated with the upper classes in Brazil and his raggedy ass costume earned him laughter and contempt. He hadn’t been to many pools growing up. Also, flailing and water? Not fun, for anyone. And pool water tasted weird.

But now… Now it was  not so bad. First, there was  almost no other black folk around. Mostly white kids with their parents or grandparents. But there was  Rachel too, who was his personal coach, and who, Emilio was sure, was the sole reason there were always so many men at the pool. She was also, Emilio discovered, a good teacher. She was patient, kind, and expressed herself clearly.

And then, after a while, it was just the effort he liked. He liked the feeling of the water gliding on his body, how his body was getting lighter and faster. Rachel corrected his movements, showed him how to be efficient, do less to go farther, how to push on the water. Sometimes she would swim herself, asking Emilio to look at her and find out what Emilio could do better. And Rachel, swimming? It was  magnificent. It was  powerful too, yeah, but in a smooth, and graceful way. It was  like Rachel was caressing the water. It was  a sight to behold, and it made it hard to focus on the precise movements, to compare how Rachel swam to how Emilio thought she did.

Rachel stopped near him, at the narrow end of the swimming pool where they could both stand. Her eyebrows said “So?”

“Hmmm… I bend my knees too much. I definitely tread more water, no?”

“Definitely.”

It was  dry and snarky, but not mean so Emilio didn’t take offense.

“Well, not everybody can be a weredolphin.”

And there! It was  a smile playing on the corners of Rachel’s lips.

“Come on, your turn Emilio.”

*****

They were drying off when Emilio found himself with a bout of verbal diarrhea.

“Soo, I’m thinking about moving out,” he said.

“Oh?” she replied, focus on drying her arms.

“Yeah. I figured it’s high time I got my own place.”

“Good for you.”

“I wanted to find out if you would help me with house hunting.”

Rachel stopped drying abruptly, body turned away from him, “Oh yeah?” she said her voice allegedly casual but Emilio noticed a slight tremble.

“Yeah.”

There was a small silence in which Emilio didn’t dare breath.

“Okay,” she said.

*****

“I don’t like it.”

Rachel watched Emilio pacing around the surprisingly spacious living room, frowning.

“Why not?”

The question almost didn’t matter. He’s found something to dislike about every place they had seen so far, from the size of the windows to the color of the floors. The apartment they’re looking at now has cherry hardwood, cathedral windows, and more space than they’d know what to do with. But he has the same look on his face as he’s had for all the others. Disappointment.

“I…” He shrugged, eyes scanning the room, as though looking for a flaw he hasn’t found yet. His eyebrows go up, and he bent over to inspect the baseboards. “Look, see?”

She squatted beside him, squinting at the wood.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“The paint is peeling.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Emilio, you’re an accomplished athlete. You have a lot of money. I think you can handle re-painting some baseboards.”

“But it could be a sign that there are other problems. Like moisture in the apartment. Or dry rot.” He argued, and Rachel fell back on her heels, sitting down behind him.

“Okay.” She folded her arms across her chest, letting out a noise of frustration. “What’s going on with you?”

He turned around to blink at her, sitting with his back against the offending wall.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this place is perfect. It has everything on your wish list, which is a miracle considering how unreasonably long you made that list in the first place. And it’s still not enough? Just…” She scooted closer to him. “I know I’m not exactly Dr. Phil, but I know you. Something else is going on.”

He let out a heavy sigh.

“It just…” He shrugged again. “It doesn’t feel like home.”

She stared at him, thinking. Generally, she was the one on the receiving end of comfort. She wasn’t good with the touchy-feely stuff, still didn’t really understand it. Her upbringing hadn’t involved a lot of getting in touch with one’s feelings. It was more about putting your best foot forward and letting logic carry your argument for you rather than relying on emotion. So she was puzzled as to Emilio’s concept of ‘home’. It didn’t matter if she had lived somewhere for a week or for five years. As soon as she hanged her coat by the door, it was home.

“You wanted to look for a new place.” She reminded him. Then, softening her voice, “You’re ready to move on from living with a room mate you said. It’s probably hard for you to do though; you guys have been together for so long. But if you’re gonna do it, then do it and stop with the excuses.”

She wanted to point out that his only other option was to be homeless. But even she didn’t think that would help. She suddenly remembered something Cameron used to say, about cold feet.

“Have you changed your mind?” She wondered suddenly. “About moving out?” She hadn’t been a good roommate. Ruby  used to tell her that all the time. She was messy, and loud at inappropriate times of day, despite her previous policing of Ruby; and she had occasionally taken showers that lasted an hour or longer. She’d been glad to get her own place and not have to live with someone else’s complaints. But it was probably different for guys. Her gaze traveled over his face, over the over sized frames of his sunglasses, the dark eyes narrowed in displeasure, the strong jaw that she used to find so over the top in addition to his general physicality. But then those eyes flitted up to her face, widening.