Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

Computational biology is a piece of cake (even if Dr. Carlsen’s perennial glower is a little unsettling).

“Come on, Luk. I know you think she’s hot. You said so.” Silence. “And I see the way you look at her.” A buzz of unease bursts in the back of my skull. “How do I look at her?” “You know how.”

“Come closer,” he orders. Lukas stopped a step behind me. I turn and frown up at him. “Why?” “Because I just asked you to, Scarlett.”

The subject line just reads What you need. The body: If you decide to go for it, I think it should be me.

I’m starving, but my walk to the athlete dining hall is slow, because I’m busy writing an email to one Dr. Olive Smith.

Scarlett: Do you really want to be reminded of my computational superiority that often? Unknown: I do. I have a thing for women who are smarter than me.

At the time, I felt invincible, like all I had to do was put in the work, and I’d reap the rewards. I felt in control, tungsten coated, and the people making fun of my dedication to diving or studying or overachieving were never going to scratch my shell.

But that armor is long gone, stripped off by time, injury, and the painful realization that deserving and obtaining are two vastly different things.

“Your tendency to let your vital organs shut down whenever something unexpected happens. Your neurons can only take so many anoxic events.”

I don’t get to finish that sentence. Because Lukas Blomqvist takes a long step, pushes me into the wall, and kisses me.

“Well, I’m sure you already know how good he is at denying himself. The more he wants something, the less he’ll let himself have it.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling—wow. I might actually be proud of myself. What a concept.

I may be at my worst, but I can masquerade as someone who’s doing perfectly fucking fine.

“Oh, sweetheart.” My belly swoops at the endearment. His tone lives somewhere between sympathy and amusement. “If you don’t think that I’m very aware of your presence, always, you have no idea what’s going on.”

It’s true. Whether I manage to do this or not, when I get out of the pool, I’m still going to be me. And Lukas…Lukas is still going to be here. And admitting it to myself is such an odd relief, I find myself laughing.

“I’m afraid of the unpredictability of existing. I’m afraid of not being able to control the direction of my life. I’m afraid that no matter how much I plan, I won’t be able to avoid hurtful and sad things. But above all…” I take a deep breath and laugh softly, because what I’m about to say is ridiculous, even if it’s true. Even if it’s me. “Mostly, I’m afraid of attempting something and not being perfect at it.”

I could list a million reasons why my wins at this meet are not a big deal, but they are a precious reminder that this is what diving used to feel like. Exciting. Fun-scary. Challenging.

Not perfect can still be good. What a mind-altering thought, huh?

“Confidence is not about being able to do shit, Vandy. Confidence is showing up, and trying, and not giving up because deep in your heart you know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

His renamed contact reads Lukas Scarlett.

I point at the spot in the stands when Dr. Smith leans her head on Dr. Carlsen’s shoulder. His hand is wrapped around her waist, and he seems less than enthused to be here. Then again, it might be an improvement from the quiet wrath that’s his default state.

“You know it, don’t you?” he asks. “What?” “From the very start, you had all the power. From the very start, I was in the palm of your hand.” I did, I think. I definitely do now. “Yes.”

I shake my head. His fingers close around my waist, and he’s picking me up, lifting me high, and it’s my turn to bend down and kiss him, but before I manage, he whispers against my lips, “A Midsommar miracle.”

He used to want to prove to himself that he could thrive, even without her. He has given up on that. Now he just wants her.

He finds it at work, during rounds, while patting the pockets of his white coat in search of a pen. The note reads: Whenever you open this, I’m probably thinking of you.

“Interesting. You know, there’s an orthopedics resident here who used to be an Olympian a few years ago. Like in…Paris, I want to say?” Melbourne, Lukas corrects in his head. “Diving, I think. The one in pairs? She and her partner got a bronze medal.” Silver. “Do you know of her?” Lukas smiles. “I am familiar, yes.”

A minute later she’s asleep. The entire universe is here, in his arms.