Chapter 20 #2
Janet said that she couldn’t hear most of it, but she heard “sister,” and at first she thought they meant her.
She couldn’t guess what she might have done to cause them to laugh at her, so she asked Bobby, and that’s when he turned around and started back to the boys.
They were my age, she said, all of them bigger than Bobby.
“But he hit the one who said ‘sister’ right in the belly. Mom said he should have kept walking.”
“That’s right,” I said, glad for the dark that obscured me. Again, I felt like a cockroach, a creature that should crawl on the floor.
“The lifeguards broke it up. They made Bobby leave because he started it, and they made the other boy leave because he kept hitting after they blew their whistles. Bobby can’t go back to the pool for a week, but Mom said he shouldn’t go back at all, because the other boy probably only got kicked out for a week, too, and even if not, he could be waiting by the fence.
She told Bobby to stick to the beach, and he said fine. But he told me he won’t.”
I nodded. My brother had long preferred the swimming pool over the ocean.
But I knew his pride, what was left of it, was also likely involved.
I asked Janet to describe the other boy, the one who’d said something about me.
She said he had hair so blond it was almost white, and that after the lifeguard threw him out, he’d gotten into a station wagon with wood on the sides.
I knew exactly who that was. Jerry Pinter had been on the swim team with Leonard.
Even when school was out, he went to the pool so often that his pale hair sometimes had a tint of green.
And he was good friends with Robbie of the basketball-under-the-gym-shirt hilarity.
I’d seen them riding together in Jerry’s Woody Ford.
The next day, when I came home from work, Bobby was mowing the front yard.
I could have waited in the shade of the house, but I wanted some distance from any window where Janet might be lurking.
So I stood on the driveway, in the sun. My thinking was that I would summon my courage and apologize to him, for the lying and for the embarrassment.
When Bobby saw me, he gave me a quick nod and kept going with the mower.
I waved and pointed for him to turn it off.
He did. But I saw in his still-battered face such unmitigated fury that I looked back at him with the same, even as I knew that I was the one who’d made things difficult for everyone.
My brother, my younger brother, had been hurt trying to defend me.
And yet I wanted to take off one of my sandals and throw it at him.
He leaned on the mower’s push bar. “What?”
“Just act like you don’t know me,” I said.
“No problem,” he said. “Because I don’t.”
With that, he started the mower back up, and I went into the house.
I headed directly to his room and found his swim trunks, which I hid under my mattress.
A few days later, I heard him looking for them, slamming drawers and asking Mae if she’d seen them, then finally accusing her of taking them, which got him sent to his room.
If he suspected I was the real thief, he didn’t say.
The next time Russ came to the library, I asked him if he’d like to go swimming.
He suggested the beach, but I told him I preferred the pool.
He told me the pool was fine with him, and that he could do all kinds of dives off the high board.
I said I probably wouldn’t swim, but I’d be glad to sit and watch him from a reclining chair.
I still had stretch marks, and I didn’t want to wear a suit.
So I wore shorts and a blouse, and I read while Russ was in line.
Whenever he was climbing up the high dive’s ladder, I’d put my book down to watch.
After he got out of the water, I’d clap or give him the thumbs-up.
Russ truly was a good diver. He could tuck his legs and do a full rotation off the high dive.
He could do a backflip, too. And I could tell he liked that I was watching.
He’d strut out to the end of the board with his chest puffed out, then look down at me and wave.
I was happy to watch and wave back. In his swim trunks, his resemblance to Apollo was even more apparent.
I didn’t have that ecstatic giddiness I’d had with Leonard, but I appreciated Russ’s beauty, the power and vigor of his body, the smooth skin over his muscled back. I didn’t like that I noticed.
I thought, my God, even after everything, I haven’t changed a bit.
—
The next time Russ and I went to the pool, I was again disappointed.
But on our third visit, I spotted a Woody Ford in the parking lot.
It wasn’t an uncommon model at the time, but I was hopeful as Russ paid our admission.
Once we were inside the fence, I spotted Jerry’s white-blond hair.
He was with one of the boys who’d laughed when Robbie put the basketball under his shirt.
Jerry and this other boy were in line for the low dive, talking to each other.
When I walked by with Russ, they both looked down at the wet concrete like it was the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen.
I set our things by a reclining chair. Russ jumped right into the water, wanting to cool off before he got in line for the diving board.
I was hot and miserable, wishing I could get in.
But I smiled as I made my way back over to the low dive.
Jerry and the other boy were still in line.
They pretended not to notice my approach.
“You two have anything you want to say to me?”
I knew they’d heard me, though I was facing the pool, watching Russ thread his way across.
Leonard had been able to glide a quarter of the way across the pool without coming up for air, not even upsetting the surface.
Russ was a splashier swimmer, chopping his way down a lane.
But he was almost as fast. I could see I wouldn’t have much time.
“Excuse me,” I said. I had on dark glasses, my eyes obscured.
“I asked you a question. If you’ve got something to say, say it to me, not my brother.
You’re three years older than he is. You bother him again, or even look at him, and I’ll have to find someone I know to take up for him. You understand, I’m sure.”
Jerry’s friend took a careful step away from him, though that meant he was barefoot on dry concrete. He hopped from one foot to the other as Jerry stared straight ahead. I cleared my throat, and Jerry nodded.
“You’re sure?” I looked back out at the pool. Russ had reached the end of the lane and was now chopping his way back. I didn’t know if he’d do another lap. “ ’Cause if you wait until later, it won’t make a difference. I’ll still let Russ know. You might as well get it out now.”
“I’m sure,” Jerry said. He sounded enraged, which I found satisfying.
I heard the spring bounce of the board, and then a splash.
The line moved forward. I wished both boys a good afternoon and went back to my chair.
Before Russ was even out of the pool, Jerry and his friend abandoned the line, opting to instead put on their shoes, grab their towels, and leave.
I returned my brother’s swim trunks that evening.
He was in his room, and I tossed them on his bed without saying anything.
He didn’t say anything to me. Nor did he even say hello when he saw me at the pool the next day, or the day after that, or any time that summer, though Russ and I were there almost every evening.
By June, I was taking off my cover-up and getting in the water.
I got sick of being hot. If Russ noticed the stretch marks, he didn’t say anything, and no one else did either.
By August, I had a pretty good suntan, and the stretch marks were harder to notice.
I’d heard Mae telling a friend she was rubbing olive oil on her belly and her legs, so I got a bottle for myself, and it helped.