Dan had convinced her that she wasn’t fat. And she knew he was right. Curvy. Big-boned. That’s how her mom had often described her. Either way, she wasn’t thin, and she wanted to be.

So, she tried it out.

Turns out, Dr. Carter was right. Running did help. Mentally and physically. It made her feel alive. Strong. When she ran, she focused on her breathing, her legs, her arms. Everything else fell away. Became secondary.

The more she ran, the more addicted she became.

Tonight was no exception. As she ran on the sidewalk, next to cars whipping past, she breathed deeply in and out through her nose. She moved her legs quickly, her feet pounding on the pavement, and she pumped her arms in time, her hands slicing through the cool air.

She rounded the corner, shedding her thoughts like a snake shed its skin. The scent of damp air, chlorine and tennis balls floated on the sharp breeze, heightening her senses.

Up ahead, looming in front of her was the gate to the community pool. She slowed her pace. Changed course. Reaching the gate, she wrapped her fingers around it, pressed her face up to the bars. A prisoner, peering out.

The bright lights shone down on the empty pool, illuminated the parking lot and the tennis courts to her left. Amelia was never a fan of tennis. Probably because playing meant she had to get out of the water, something she never wanted to do.

As Whitney stared out at the pool, she imagined Amelia’s head bobbing up and down in the makeshift waves, her arms coming up in large round swoops as she carried herself to the other side. Then she saw her lying on a lounge chair, squirting white sunblock on her legs while talking a mile a minute, her hair crunchy from drying in the sun.

One of her favorite memories was when she taught Amelia to swim. At the time, Dan’s parents lived near them and they had a pool. Amelia spent a lot of time at their house, and always wanted to be near the water. So, the summer she turned four, Whitney made it her mission to teach Amelia. In the afternoons, she’d head over to her in-laws’, traipse in through the back door and she and Amelia would spend hours playing around in the water. The first couple of times, Amelia whined, begging for her “wa-wings.” That’s why the third time, Whitney was smart enough to leave the water wings at home.

“No wa-wings,” she remembered saying over and over. “They’re not here.”

Amelia was upset that she had to be held in the water. That she couldn’t go off on her own, the way she could with the floaties. But once she got past her initial frustration, she started to get the hang of it.