I saw them out the door, then slipped into my bedroom. It was still in a state of mild disarray from the night before, piles of clothes off their hangers, two slashed pillows facedown in the corner, the top of my dresser littered with the entire contents of my desk. I ignored it all, the sight just adding more tension to my already overtaxed shoulders. Instead, I waded through the chaos to my dresser, threw open the top drawer and, after digging only a few minutes, found my pink, polka-dotted bikini. I threw it on, added a pair of cutoff shorts, flip-flops and a towel and headed out, locking the front door behind me.

I slipped out the back, not wanting another confrontation with Cal, and headed toward the pool.

The Palm Grove complex consisted of thirty-three units, set in a series of connecting lanes that made a circular pattern. In the middle was a community center where senior yoga was taught in the mornings, watercolors in the afternoons, and movie nights and bingo in the evenings. Next to the center was the swimming pool that was largely occupied by aqua aerobics by day, but once the sun went down and the temperature dipped below eighty, was virtually abandoned. Like now.

I stepped out of my flip-flops, tossed my towel on a folding chaise, and ditched my shorts. I dipped one toe into the shallow end, testing the water. Crisp, cool. Perfect.

I walked around to the twelve-footer mark, raised my arms up, and dove in headfirst. The cool water washed over me, blocking out all sight, sound, and feeling but the energizing water. It was total sensory deprivation, and I loved it.

I surfaced, sucking in a long breath of air, then dove back under, kicking my legs behind me. Immediately I fell into a familiar rhythm. Arms pumping, legs kicking, steady, even breath breaking the surface in measured time. I reached the side, flipped around, then did it again.

Five laps in, I was beginning to hit my stride. My muscles felt relaxed for the first time in days. In the pool there was no threat, there was no boss, there was no perky Barbie doll vying for my stories. There was just me, the cool sensation, and muscles pumping in time to the steady rhythm of my breath as my body sliced through the water.

I’m not sure how many laps I did, but by the time I surfaced, I was breathing hard and the strain had seeped out of me, replaced by a lax, loose feeling that left my body sighing in relief.

One that, unfortunately, didn’t last for long.

I looked up to find Cal standing at the end of the pool, a lopsided grin creasing his face in the sparse moonlight.

“What?” I asked, wiping the chlorine out of my eyes.

“Cute bikini.”