There are three cans of Coke on the concrete shoulder of the pool. They’re friendly there: if I get scared I can drink Coke. I’m holding on to the ladder because I can only doggy-paddle still. Beside me, Eddie treads water. I don’t want him to say Watch Me Do a Somersault but I know he’s going to.
I don’t want Mom to come out of the house.
But I’m still not scared yet.
Watch me do a somersault, says Eddie, and I turn my head toward him. He holds his nose and goes under with a big splash. I look away and when he comes up, I say it was pretty good.
Dad comes out of the lit open French doors, stalks to the pool and nose-dives, as fast as that. We usually would hooray.
When he comes up I call out in truthful instinctive longing, Daddy.
He says, How’s my sea horse?
I’m fine, Daddy, I say. Daddy, why did you go away that time?
He says he was in Timbuktu hunting killer gorillas. The gorillas there are so fierce, they eat up Daddies there in two big bites. Chomp, womp!
We usually would jabber and ask.
I say THAT’S NOT TRUE. I’m scared.
Mom comes out of the house. She stomps to the concrete shoulder.
She’s messy. Her slippered foot troubles the Coke can on the left. That’s mine, she’s going to kick it over.
“It’s an accident,”I mouth. It didn’t happen yet, but I think as if it did.
Mom watches us like a bad ghost. Eddie starts to splash.
Mom says, I want to know how I got painted as the villain of this piece, trembling and evil.
We paddle way below her. I’m scared.
She kicks my Coke over into the pool as she turns to go back in the open lit French doors.
The Coke drains a shadow into the turquoise water.
Dad says, This is getting out of hand. He swims. He swims hard, disturbing the whole water.
When he’s done I say to him, Daddy, I’m sorry I said what I said about you saying something wrong.
He says, Let’s just make believe you were quiet as a mouse. Can we do that? Let’s all pretend we’re quiet, quiet mice.