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#Post#: 70--------------------------------------------------
Downstream
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: December 23, 2019, 10:43 am
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Tikvah, pulled on her bathing suit and prayed.
"לאָזן מיר
געפֿינען
זיך ווידער
ווען איך
קומען אויס
פון די
וואַסער.
לאָמיך
בלייבן א
גוט יידיש
מיידל און
פרומאַ
ייד." She prayed that the water not wash away
her identity or faith. Like the waters that swallowed up
Pharaoh's army, water in general washed everything away.
Tikvah walked out onto the pool deck. Beginning swimmers had
their own little group. Several retreated to the bleachers, and
of these three girls refused to enter the water. One of them,
Tikvah, noticed was not even dressed. Tikvah thought of the Jews
of Spain who jumped off cliffs rather than convert. She admired
those with more faith than she, except it probably wasn't faith
that kept the laggards in the bleachers. They taught swimming in
camps, which was why Tikvah could float. It was only her life
circumstances that made water a psychological and moral danger.
That said she went into the water, not lying to herself about
what would happen. The swimming instructor who was the same one
who found she could float and splash a bit, put the class
through its paces, practicing floating and free paddling. Then
it was time to get out of the pool and practice the arms for the
crawl. Several kids who could barely float sat on the pool edge
doing nothing until the gym teacher prodded them.
Beyond the string of beads that separated the shallow and deep
parts of the pool and on the pool's far left side, the class of
kids who could swim were being made to swim laps, hard, fast
laps in a variety of strokes. Other kids were being made to swim
in place. Tikvah noticed her roommate in her flame floral swim
suit stroking along and getting in last. She thought she heard
the male swim instructor laugh at her. An old female swim
instructor who had wrinkles for skin sent Corianne and several
other kids to swim in place. When a boy slipped under the water
and started doing tricks, wrinkles blew her whistle loud.
Tikvah was glad when it came time for kickboard swim. The young,
female, swim instructor, with round shoulders and hips, pulled
loose the dividing beads and tied them to a life bouy to which
she suspended a weight. Those who could float and paddle at
least half confidently, now had to hang onto styrofoam boards
and kick for their lives even in water over our heads. "What if
we drown?" asked Tikvah.
"You won't because you can grab the side of the pool or one of
us can grab you. You could also float. OK?"
Tikvah knew she had no choice. She forgot her fear when she got
going. She must have gone up and down the pool three times. Then
it was time to try to put it together in the shallow end. The
crawl stroke and kicking did not go together, and Tikvah ended
up dog paddling again. "Try again," the round hipped swim
instructor said. Tikvah thought of Pharao's slave drivers, but
she also felt a note of confidence.
Try enough and she might actually swim, if she stayed at this
school long enough, but a swimming Tikvah would be a different
Tikvah. "This weekend my suite will go shopping. We'll be off
campus. We'll have forty-five minutes, even if it is on a
Saturday. I'll call my tati..." Tikvah told herself as she
dressed. She reminded herself there would be pork in the
cafeteria. She reminded herself that Corianne might eat it. She
told herself it would not matter. "I'm sorry, Corianne, I won't
be here to teach you, but I need to be back with my own kind."
It did not matter that Tikvah might learn to swim. It did not
matter if they taught enrichment math just like in Brooklyn. It
did not matter that there was a library full of interesting,
nonfiction books. It did not matter that Corianne would read the
Psalms. It... Tikvah realized that HaShem had answered her
prayer. She was still herself despite a whole pool full of
water.
"What are you so happy about?" Corianne asked Tikvah as they
walked to lunch.
"You wouldn't understand," Tikvah answered.
"Aren't you going to congratulate me?"
"For what."
"I got into advanced swimming."
"That is really good," Tikvah replied. "This girl will miss me
when I'm gone," Tikvah thought sadly.
#Post#: 82--------------------------------------------------
Re: Downstream
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: December 28, 2019, 8:21 pm
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Zia noticed Marion, humiliated and alone in the shallow end of
the pool even as she valiantly tried to crawl. Marion was out by
the beads up to her neck practicing surface dives so she could
build up enough skill to dive off the edge of the pool or even
the diving board. "That may be me next, though not for a while,"
Zia considered. Nearly every other kid in intermediate or
advanced aquatics could dive, but not Marion. It was like an
Achilles heel.
"My Achille's heel is that stupid crawl," thought Zia as she
kickboarded down the pool with a bunch of mostly fifth graders.
There were still three girls who refused to participate and one
boy who pulled himself out of the pool halfway down. Zia reached
the end of the pool touched, turned around and then out of
impulse, pushed the board away and tried to swim crawl. She soon
reverted to doggie paddle, but she made it the whole way back to
the shallow end.
"What are you going to do about that kick board floating in the
deep end?" asked the swim instructor with all wrinkles for skin.
Zia hadn't thought about that. Her face burned. Then she turned
around and set off once again for the deep end of the pool. Her
kicking was nice and straight but it was hard not to dog paddle.
She let herself under the lap lane rope and swam a few strokes
to the board, grabbed it and kickboarded back to the shallows
where the rest of the class was practicing the crawl. "I'll
never crawl," thought Zia sadly as she placed the kickboard on
top of the pile with its mates and began to practice that
strange, overhead stroke.
It was only in the locker room that she remembered the sentence
that Marion had diagrammed that morning on the board. The
English teacher had asked for a sentence with an infinitive
clause. Marion had diagrammed "Someday, I will learn to dive."
Marion did not shower after she swam. She rang out her hair,
towel dried it and stood under the hair driers looking like a
baby who did not want to be bathed. She yanked a comb through
her fine, Caucasian locks. Her face was impossible to read.
"Do you hate swimming?" Zia asked her on the way to lunch.
"No, and I don't hate diving either. How about you....Oh
shit...congratulations Zia, I saw you pick up that kick board.
I'm sorry I didn't get it for you."
"It's not your job and I could do it."
"You think we might end up in intermediate swimming together?"
"You're much better than I am, Marion."
"Yeah if only I could dive."
"If only I could swim the stinking crawl."
"We just need to keep practicing."
"Want to do free swim Saturday afternoon."
"I need to study my butt off."
"How come?"
"I want to take the Ferncliff Cemetery trip on Sunday. It's all
day."
"I do church Sunday morning."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's not like we're twins you know."
"What does that mean?"
"Sometimes we have to do our own things. That's OK isn't it?"
"Of couse...I mean....I'm sorry. I'm in an awful mood. My mom
hasn't texted me in twenty-four hours and...I'll check." Marion
dug out her phone. "No texts," she sighed."She usually doesn't
go this long. I hope something hasn't happened."
#Post#: 105--------------------------------------------------
Re: Downstream
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: January 4, 2020, 7:54 pm
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Zia resolved not to have to chase an errant kickboard any more
by not using one when it came time to swim. Her kick was
straight even if her crawl still resembled a dog paddle.
"Where's your kickboard?" asked Ms. Wrinkles from the side of
the pool. "I don't need it," Zia boasted and then she was afraid
she would face punishment for mouthing off.
"Let's see you swim crawl then," Ms. Wrinkles replied.
"I can't," Zia answered.
"What happens if you try."
Zia thought about that. Usually she just forgot the arm
movements and gave up. That meant she dog paddled. Zia gave an
example.
"You need to concentrate," Ms. Wrinkles now squatted on the side
of the pool. For an older lady, she was really quite flexible.
"Don't worry about how fast you go. Just concentrate on the arms
and the breathing. Don't even worry about the kicking."
"If I don't kick," thought Zia "I won't go anywhere." Still she
gave it a try. With just her arms she moved slowly but she felt
the rhythm and made it to the end of the pool. Then she turned
around and doggie paddled back down until Ms. Wrinkles made her
revert to doing the crawl stroke again with just a few kicks.
"You're catching on," Ms. Wrinkles told Zia.
"Thank you."
"I'm going to show you something that will help." Ms. Wrinkles
jumped into the water. She wore a bathing suit the color of
claret wine. She splashed herself to get wet and dunked her
upper body like a pro.
"Let's get to wear it is pretty deep. What we're going to do is
tread water. Here is the part with the arms. It's a little
different from the dog paddle. On the bottom you peddle a
bicycle with your feet." It took Zia a couple of tries to get
the hang of treading water.
"Let's get out where it's deeper," Ms. Wrinkles suggested.
She swam a few strokes. Zia paddled behind her. Then together
they treaded in water over Zia and Ms. Wrinkles' head. They
treaded and treaded a good ten minutes before the male swim
instructor, Mr. Morrisy, blue the whistle. Zia dog paddled over
to the deep end ladder, and then remembered to try the crawl
stroke at least a little. "Are you OK with going nowhere in the
water now," asked Ms. Wrinkles. Zia smiled and something inside
that smile hurt.
"If I learn to swim," she told herself. "It is really going to
change me."
#Post#: 135--------------------------------------------------
Re: Downstream
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: January 15, 2020, 8:52 am
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Zia wanted to tread water and talk with Marion in the middle of
the deep end in the worst way on Monday morning, but Zia had to
work on that infernal crawl and Marion squatted in dive
purgatory on the side of the pool letting her self fall in head
first. It was an awful and clumsy parody of a dive, something
even the ten year olds in advanced swim could do.
And yes, there was a ten year old in advanced swim, a tiny thing
in a red bathing suit covered with orange flames. She reminded
Zia of a little water bird or of a chiclid fish that could glow
in the dark. the advanced swimmers had the canoe this Monday and
were practicing tipping it and righting it again in water over
their heads. The little one had trouble getting into the canoe
once it was right side up and a big boy nearly tipped it again
when he lifted her. Then the kids tipped the canoe voluntarily,
and began the whole process again. They righted and tipped that
canoe several times during class, and more than once Zia stopped
her swim to tread water and watch. Treading water was really a
handy skill.
Marion did not watch the canoe show. She practiced her dive,
swam angry, breast stroke laps, swam a backstroke lap that
nearly went in circles; for she was quite clumsy, and she
practiced diving again, terrible, squatting, ungraceful dives.
"Let's see a real crawl, Zia!" Ms. Wrinkles whose real name was
Ms. Finnix yelled. Crawl was stupid and unproductive. Crawl went
nowhere. Crawl took forever to get from one end of the pool to
the other. Zia submitted to the slow motion of the overhand
stroke and straight kick. "You don't have to turn your head to
the side every time you bring your arms around," Ms. Finnix
commanded.
"How often do I breathe?"
Ms. Finnix smiled and replied. "Whenever you need a breath."
That gave the crawl no rhythm. and even less rhythm than the dog
paddle. Zia decided to breathe every third stroke, and went a
bit faster. Then she had to swim another lap, and a third, and a
fourth. Then the motherly female swim instructor who was the
head of aquatics pullled Zia aside. "I want you to do me a
favor," she said.
Zia wondered how she could have gotten in trouble. All she
remembered was last week's kickboard but she had picked it up
and taken it back to the pile. "Can you swim down the pool with
one of the younger girls?"
"Sure but she'll beat me."
"No Tikvah won't beat you, because you'll stay with her. You can
tread water so you stop and tread water and let her catch up."
"What if something happens."
"I'll be watching and the side of the pool is right there."
Tikvah had a navy blue bathing suit and hair like a wet pelt, in
the way that Caucasian girls typically abused their hair. Tikvah
and Zia found their way to the lap lane. Tikvah took the inside
and pushed off in a splashing, truly wretched dog paddle. Zia,
relieved not to be crawling, dog paddled along side Tikvah but
with a straight kick. Since she moved faster, she had to tread
water. Tikvah said nothing, and Zia was also quiet. Slowly,
slowly, they made it down to the deep end of the pool where
Tikvah found the ladder and climbed out.
"Holy shit!" thought Zia. "That was the way I passed my swim
test," except Tikvah had not really passed it. She'd barely
passed. "Great job Tikvah!" called out the head of aquatics.
"She still has to learn the crawl," thought Zia who jumped into
the deep end and began to tread water and then to swim her own
wretched version of the crawl back to the shallows. "I can't
dive either," Zia said to Marion in her head.
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