How To Let Go

Chapter 10

"Is he sleeping?" A deep voice next to me said.

I had forgotten about Max and his sudden choice to speak startled me.

Once my heart started beating at a normal pace, I replied, "Yeah. He's knocked out like a bear in hibernation."

It was true though. Brandon was nowhere near being a light sleeper. He could sleep through the apocalypse if it begun right this moment.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked.

"It didn't seem wise to let a woman come out here alone."

Oh. I guess chivalry exists then? If this even is chivalry. But I didn't know if this was something I needed to say thanks to or not. So I just hastily made a decision and chose the latter.

Instead of getting up to go back into the restaurant, we just stayed sitting on the cold concrete.

Max didn't let us silence engulf us though because he kept talking. "I didn't know you had a brother."

I let out a short chuckle. "Surprise."

"How old is he?"

"Brandon is nine, but if you ask him, he'll claim that he's nine and three-quarters. Kid's been obsessed with finally hitting the double digits."

"He seems like a good kid." Max said. "Is he your only sibling?"

I agreed. "He is. A good kid I mean. I have a sister. She's a sophomore in high school and a handful." Then I turned to face Max. "What about you? Any siblings other than the brother Jason mentioned before?"

Max hooked his hands together creating a bridge between his jean-clad knees with his arms. "Nope. It's just Ian and me."

"What does he do now since he's graduated college?"

"He's got a job at some high end law firm in New York, but he's only on the lower tiers of the job for now. Being new to the real world and all. "

"That's pretty impressive."

"I guess."

Now silence fell between us.

I played with my iPhone, spinning it in the air and then catching it again.

After a few minutes, Max spoke again, "I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation with your brother or anything, in my defense your volume was high enough for me to overhear, but...I think your brother's right."

I stopped spinning my phone and just held it in my hand. Without looking at Max, I said, "Right about what?"

I could feel the burning sensation of Max's gaze on me and I hoped with all my might that Max wasn't thinking about what I thought he was talking about.

Then he said it. The one word I wasn't ready to relate with me again...yet.

"Swimming."

I froze and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I made sure I was looking anywhere but at him.

"I don't know your story or your past relationship with it, but by the way your brother spoke, it gave me the impression that swimming was important to you. At least once upon a time. You should start it up again."

"Easy for you to say. But that's...not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because it just isn't. I don't think you'd understand." I was getting irked with his prodding now, but I willed myself to stay calm.

"Help me understand then. Tell me your story." His voice was gentle and it was infuriating. Why couldn't this guy be impatient? Just get frustrated like any normal human and give up on prying my past out of me already.

"Look, Max, I don't want to talk about this right now." I said.

He didn't say anything for another minute or two. I thought he had let go of the topic, but I was wrong.

"You know, when I was about twelve, I stopped swimming." He started abruptly.

My head jerked up to look at him when he said the last part. It was so obvious that Max was passionate about swimming. How can someone with such an intense relationship with a sport just stop?

"For a full year, I despised even the thought of it." He continued. "Negative pressure built inside me all because of some bad remarks that influenced me.

"It started with my brother, Ian. He wasn't involved directly by any means, but Ian was well known at the aquatics center we practiced at. He was a great swimmer and especially great for a fifteen year old boy. He already competed at one junior olympics by then and was preparing for his second. Back then, I only competed up to the national levels. Still, no one could imagine how proud I was to call him my brother.

"But then some parents of my teammates started to make comments on my swimming and compared me to Ian. A nasty feeling inside me began to grow and I began to hate the way the swimming parents would associate myself to my brother in our swimming styles and question why I couldn't do what he did. I think they blamed me for our lost meets.

"They would tell me that Ian was a better swimmer. But I already knew that and accepted it. No, I didn't even have to accept it. I thought it was a natural thing. He's four years older than I am and he's had four more years of life experience than I did. It just made sense that he was the better swimmer.

"But that didn't ease the guilty feeling I harbored. What if it was my fault that we didn't win some of the meets?

"The unpleasant comments made by parents caused me to hate going to swim practice and soon hate swimming altogether. It was then when I swore off swimming and I avoided anything related to it even marginally for a year.

"One day though, the summer before I started eighth grade, my brother, Ian ambushed me and dragged me to the neighborhood pool. He didn't even hesitate for one second before throwing me in.

"I was so angry with him, but so was he. Ian was fed up with my moping attitude because I'd sworn I'd never swim again. Somehow that lead to him knowing that deep inside, I had wanted to swim so he did what big brothers do. He forced me to realize it myself.

"Ian pushed me to race him and he would mess around in the pool with me. Before, I had refused to tell him the reason of my quitting swimming, but that day, I told him. When he heard the deal, he encouraged me to swim again. I believe his words were along the lines of something like the parents being idiots for saying those things to me and that I should ignore them. He listed off reasons why I should keep swimming. It was then when realized how much I'd missed it.

"That day turned out to become one of my fondest swimming memories. We spent hours in the water together and from that day on he began to coach me outside of the official hours of practice. He brought back swimming in my life."

Max looked at me expectantly. But I avoided his gaze.

"Wow, I would've never guessed you had a stage where you didn't want to swim." I said. It was probably completely off the tangent of the direction Max wanted the conversation to go.

"It happens to the best of us." He replied without giving any sign of disappointment. "You know, once you're a swimmer, you're always a swimmer. You just have to learn how rekindle the fire again or have someone help you."

I stared at my feet, not trusting myself to say anything.

Max then stood up and held out a hand for me. "We should get back inside before all the food disappears."

I smiled at his comment. Of course, thinking like a true swimmer.

I took his hand to lift myself up, except he probably did more work by pulling me up rather than me pushing off the ground with my legs.

I was too busy thinking about how solid that single pull was that I didn't notice that Max's hand lingering in mine for a bit too long for someone that was only helping me up.