Dear Meredith by Belle Kismet Page A

about to die.
                A surge of happiness wells up within me as Milo and Ginny shout encouraging things from where they're bobbing gently several feet in front of us.
                Feeling a gaze on me, I turn my head to find Grant smiling at me and I read the same triumph in his eyes. It is a shared moment and I tip my head in acknowledgement of it.
     
                "So how was it?" Laney ambushes me when I get home, Bandit prancing joyously at my side before rolling onto her back, all four paws up in the air as she demands a tummy rub.
                "It was surprisingly okay," I admit, while she gives a whoop of triumph. I scratch Bandit's tummy, getting at her favourite spot, which makes her left hind leg start pumping up and down in a scratching movement.
                "Yeah, go Mike! Tell me all about it," she demands, flopping down onto the couch. Her laptop is open on the table, where she had been writing her latest article while babysitting Bandit for me.
                Two empty bottles of Corona stand neatly beside it. "I write best when I drink," Laney has proclaimed often. It's a mystery to me how her stomach stays so amazingly taut.
                "Well, for starters, my swimming instructor is a bronze Adonis called Milo. I think he has an eight-pack and he looks like he can bench press the both of us together."
                Her eyes widen. "And the cons?" she demands.
                "His voice doesn't match his god-like body," I confess with a giggle. "And I suspect he's gay."
                She falls back onto the cushions dramatically. "Why are all the good men taken or gay?"
                Or dead , I add silently, the pang in my stomach a familiar friend by now.
                "I don't know if he's gay," I say aloud. "I just think he might be. But you never know."
                She perks up slightly. "Is his voice girl high, or just less manlier than normal high, but definitely a manly voice?"
                I consider the question seriously. Laney and I had fine-tuned our system of rating men since high school, which employed liberal use of celebrities as measures.
                "I'd say, his voice is like Ewan MacGregor's in Moulin Rouge, when he's hitting some of the high notes," I say at last.
                Laney thinks about it for a moment then groans. "Ugh, I just can't imagine it. Maybe I'll come along for your next lesson."
                " No ," I blurt out before I can help myself. "No, don't. I wouldn't be able to dip a toe into the water if you were there," I add quickly, although I feel a flush colouring my face. Bandit is lying down beside me, and I lean down to kiss her so I can hide from Laney. Somehow, I don't want her to know about Grant but I can't quite explain why.
                However, Laney fortunately doesn't seem to notice, lost in contemplation about Milo's lack or not of a manly enough voice. "But how else am I going to meet him?"
                I think fast. "Okay, I promise, when I get good enough to actually swim across the shallow end, you can come to one lesson, okay?"
                This turns out to be good enough for her and she moves on to her next question. "So, what did you learn?"
                "Milo just explained the curriculum for the next five weeks. I'll be learning how to do the breast stroke first. I don't know, Laney. It sounds really scary. Then, he ended the lesson by getting me to dangle my legs in the water," I say, wincing at how lame it sounds.
                As usual, Laney knows exactly what I'm thinking. "I think it's wonderful progress. Just think, would you have imagined yourself doing this last week?"
                "Well, no. I suppose Mike did know what he was talking about," I say grudgingly.
                "We all