Deep End
Photo by Markus Spiske
I tucked my hair under my daisy-covered swim cap until my scalp stretched so tight my face burned. Mom said I had to wear a rubber swim cap because girl hair clogged pool drains.
Mom dropped Brother and Me off at the community pool for swim lessons and recreational swimming. She came back when our skin was golden brown and our finger tips shriveled like raisins.
In my swim class, I held on to the side in the shallow end, kicked, and blew bubbles for a pretty lady in a red swimsuit. I already knew how to dog paddle, tread water, and float and didn’t think I needed to formally learn all the other stuff, but Mom insisted. She said I was a sloppy swimmer.
After lessons, the pool opened to the public for recreational swimming. I played with the girls in the shallow end. We sat cross-legged on the pool bottom, pretending to sip tea, curling our pinkies. After a game of Marco Polo, we swam to the steps and groomed our beautiful mermaid taiIs. And when I peed in the pool, the water never changed color.
That summer, I noticed a blond kid who spent too much time in the pool. He got sunburned, and the chlorine turned his hair green, like boiled cabbage. I watched as another girl dove into the shallow end and had to leave in an ambulance.
Suddenly, a whistle shrilled. Everyone stopped. The lifeguard, who usually sat in a tall chair under an umbrella, climbed down and yelled, “I want everyone out of the pool and sitting on the edge!”
The lifeguard poured a bucket full of goldfish into the pool. He blew his whistle again and yelled, “On the count of three, get out there and catch some fish!”
Everyone jumped in at the same time. It was a goldfish frenzy. Kids laughed, screamed, splashed, and bobbed, squishing goldfish in their hands. Most of the fish swam to the deep end or got sucked into the drain. The ones I caught were already floating.
I wanted one of those goldfish. I knew Mom wouldn’t like me bringing it home in a baggie of murky pool water. Besides, we already had a tank full of guppies.
Fooling around in the deep end of the pool was a terrible idea. I liked taking a deep breath and pulling myself down the big ladder to the bottom. It was quiet there. My ears ached and my lungs burned, but watching the unsuspecting kids above was exciting. When I could not hold my breath any longer, I pushed off the bottom and shot up the ladder, imagining myself a mermaid preparing to breach the ocean waves.
On the day I almost drowned, a woman in a black swim dress floated over to my ladder. I didn’t see her. When I pushed up to the surface, her large, soft body kept me underwater. I panicked, hitting her ruffled swimsuit with my small fists. When she finally climbed out of the pool, I came up gasping, coughing, and crying. Nobody seemed to notice; I had nearly drowned. The woman was upset with me for being there and didn’t apologize.
The lifeguard blew his whistle . He pointed at me and said, “Hey, kid! You’re not supposed to be playing in the deep end. Get back to the kiddie pool where you belong!” Everyone stared at me.
Embarrassed, I jumped in the shallow end and sank. No one knows you’re crying when you’re underwater.
