“I should get to my seat,” I say, extracting myself before the skeptical half of my brain talks the part of me that’s in love into ruining things.
“I’ll find you after the meet. Thank you so much for coming.” She clutches her bouquet again and bats her lashes over her smile. She’s as confident as she is ever going to be, and I can’t wreck that.
I dash through the long hallway to the other end of the pool and duck inside the doors to sit with our friends. James waves me over and I take the seat in front of him and next to Morgan.
“Didn’t think you were going to make it,” she says.
“Oh, yeah. I’m here.” My hands knot together as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. My eyes scan the deck until I spotThe Affiliatephotographer. Abby is right next to him, and I can’t help but lock onto her while her words play over and over in my head.
Morgan’s arm brushes against mine as she leans forward to join me.
“Of course, Morgan. I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she says, putting on a deep voice.
"Is that supposed to be me?" I ask, not pulling my gaze away from Abby.
“Yeah, Theo. That’s what you weresupposedto say,” she retorts.
I blink and shake my head, turning to meet her waiting stare.
“Sorry, I’m— Something came up just now, and I don’t know what to think about it. But . . .”
“Ohhh,” she says in a hushed voice, sitting up straight and flitting her gaze toward the photographer and Abby.
“Oh, no,” she adds on.
“You keep saying that, and it doesn’t sound good. Wanna fill me in? What’soh, no?” My focus bounces between her and Abby, and finally I shift so I’m squared with Morgan.
She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone, scrolling while holding a finger up to me as if I’m supposed to be patient. Meanwhile, visions of pushing Abby into the pool drift through the back of my mind.
“There it is,” she says, holding her phone screen against her chest then looking me in the eyes.
“You need to know that Lily is going to show you this. Like, as in right after this meet. She wanted to before, and she went back and forth, but frankly, I talked her out of it. I mean, I think she was mostly set on waiting until she knew for sure, but given howoff the handleyou can fly before all the facts are in—”
“Morgan.” My voice is stern, and she snaps her lips shut before her eyes shift to the side, toward the pool. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry, you were rambling, though.”
“You need to read the entire thing. Don’t say a word until you’re done. And then please, Theo, let Lily tell you on her own. Pretend it’s the first you’ve heard about this. And have whatever reaction you decide you want to have then. But do her that courtesy,” she says, turning her attention back to me.
“What courtesy,” I say, leaning my head to the side.
“The one of letting her be open and honest with you, and the courtesy of considering her intent with this. This is an act of love. Lily, she’s full of so much love. And she loves you.”
I breathe in through my nose and study her expression. Morgan and I go way back, and if there is anybody whose face I can read like a book, it’s hers. We’ve survived the same society circles. We have our own secret code. She’s being straight with me right now.
I nod and she hands me the phone. I cradle it in my palms and Morgan gives me space as I read.
FISH OUT OF WATER
A story by Theo Rothschild
I glance to Morgan in a flash, but she’s clapping and ignoring me. I return my eyes to the screen and continue to read. The further I get into what Lily and the other girls have constructed, the more I see; the more I understand.
This is a love letter. She’s right. But it isn’t to me—it’s to Anika. It may be a gesture doneforme, but the recipient is my sister. My heart swells with every new revelation.
It’s all there. Lily and Anika’s bond, in so many words, yet still respecting my sister’s privacy. Those who know will know, and those on the outside will see a special, blossoming friendship. All of Anika’s gifts, her value and worth shining brightly in the quotes from Lily, Morgan, and Brooklyn. She included pieces from older articles, words from my mom that were in the local paper.
It takes me twenty minutes to finish the piece, and I go back to read certain sections again. I don’t know how Lily managed to write something from my perspective, as if she were examining herself from above. It’s a gift. Even more, though, is how accurate she is with my voice. It’s everything I have wanted to say. It’s better, and I don’t deserve this credit.
Morgan leans into me.