JULY 1992
BROADMOOR
I burst out of the water and threw my head back, flinging my hair to make a spray of droplets.
Gaby was sitting on the pool steps, slowly dragging her arms back and forth to push a drowning beetle away from her and toward the drain. “No, when Ariel does it, it’s like a big swoop. That just kind of rained back on your own head.”
I wiped the water from my eyes. “Okay, let me get shallower, watch this one.”
We had been waiting all winter, watching while machines pushed piles of dirt around and the Landrys’ yard next door slowly became a pool. When it was finally done, they gave me permission to swim there during summer break, and Gaby and I had spent days choosing different sun lotions and tanning sprays in anticipation. We had even found a raft in Gaby’s garage from some past trip to Waveland and my hair was full of Sun In: we were ready. Ida was having conniptions, barking nonstop and pushing her face through the chain-link fence separating our yard from theirs, running back and forth, determined to save me from whatever clear danger had befallen me.
I ducked under the cool surface of the water and Ida’s barking disappeared. We were obsessed with The Little Mermaid, watching it over and over until the VHS tape got fuzzy. I sank down and then pushed off the bottom, propelling my chest up and out into the warm air and flinging my neck as hard as I could. “How about that?” I asked when I had landed.
Gaby kept her eye on the beetle while she lazily kicked her legs out in front of her. “I think your hair’s too short.”
“Okay, fine, you do it, then.”
Gaby frowned at me and then started out toward the raft floating at the deep end in a slow, graceful stroke. “No thank you. I don’t even like mermaids that much.”
“Yes, you do, come on.” I knew she didn’t like to get her hair wet because she was the only fifth grader that actually carried an umbrella and would use it every single time it even drizzled. But I still thought it was a terrible waste of precious pool time. I didn’t feel wet until I went under and then when I came up, the whole world had gone down ten degrees in temperature, and everything felt fresh and bright and joyful. “I promise you will feel a million times better.”
She grabbed the raft and pulled it under her belly crosswise and slowly kicked toward me. “Five hours it takes under the dryer.”
“No way.” I knew she straightened her hair but that seemed impossible. “You’re making that up.”
She was revolving in slow circles. “I watch TV or do my homework. It’s not that big a deal, but yeah, about five hours.” A cloud passed quickly over the sun and the world went dimmer and then passed and everything shone again, brighter after the quick reprieve.
I was trying to imagine having the patience to do anything for five hours. I didn’t think I had sat still for that long in my entire life. I ducked under again to do a handstand while I thought about this. Even so, I still wanted her to really swim with me. There was something about her always keeping her head out that made it feel like she was not fully participating in the experience. I wanted to have races or play Marco Polo and it wouldn’t be any fun if she kept her head above water. Especially since she hadn’t mentioned this the whole time we had been waiting and making our plans, I still kind of thought she must not be serious.
When I came back up, I saw Mrs. Landry watering the pots of flowers on her back steps. It was like the third time she had come out since we had been swimming and she was making me a little nervous. She kept watching us but then when I waved, she quickly went back inside. Even though the reflection of the sun was fierce on the glass, I could just feel her at the windows, watching us.
I splashed a spray of water in Ida’s direction and she leaped back in a huge comical bound and then started barking again, although now from a greater distance from the fence. Gaby had her back to me, her pink striped bathing suit making her look like a Starlight Mint and without stopping to think too hard about it, I jumped on her, knocking her off the raft and into the water. She came up sputtering, lifting her hair out of her face and for one terrible minute I thought she was going to cry. “ Rosemary! How could you? What did I just tell you about my hair?” She slapped the water.
“I want you to have fun with me. How often do we get to be in a pool? You’re wasting it.” I was a little nervous now that I had done it but I still felt kind of justified. But she was already on her way out of the pool. “Wait. Don’t be mad,” I called to her.
“Don’t be mad,” I said again and pushed a wave of water in her direction. She waited a minute, standing up in the shallow end, and I almost thought she really was going to get out of the pool. So, I swam over and grabbed her hand, pulling her deeper. “I’m sorry, I swear. Come on, you’re already wet.”
“You just don’t listen,” she said. “I swear to God, if you ever do that again, I am never going swimming with you.”
“I promise I will never do that again.” She still waited, hesitating. “But in a way, you have to admit I did you a favor because now you have no choice but to have fun,” I said.
“I’m going to kill you,” she said, finally jumping up and pushing me underwater by my shoulders. I opened my eyes and my laughter came out in big surging bubbles and I tried to grab her legs and soon we were tumbling in and under each other in circles.
When we came up still grappling, I said, “See, doesn’t that feel better?” And then I had to dive away because she came at me again, but she missed. We splashed and kicked together now in careless motions and spent the rest of the afternoon in the pool just as I had wanted, but it didn’t feel quite right. Something had shifted and I felt bad, but I didn’t know what to do about it now.
It didn’t matter, because the next day Mrs. Landry came over and told my mom that she didn’t want me using the pool with friends, and my mom got really mad in a way she didn’t usually. She even bought me a Slip ’N Slide to make up for it, and Gaby and I spent the summer bruising our ribs and knees, throwing ourselves at the knotty ground and patchy grass of our backyard on the slick yellow plastic. The next Halloween my mom told me to go egg Mrs. Landry’s house because she was a racist old bitch.