Shallow Water

“Aaaaalright, kids, we’re here, it’s Jetson Family time!” Bill said as he switched the car into park and turned off the engine. In truth, they were the Jensen Family, but Bill often liked to remark that if you removed the ‘n’ and changed it out for a ‘t,’ then they’d be very close. Whenever Bill had said this in the past, Hal had piqued up and reminded him that you’d have to change two letters, not one, and that in fact the real Jetson Family also had a dog named Astro and their robot maid Rosie, and they lived in Orbit City, presumably somewhere not on planet Earth, which was a far cry from Westerville, Ohio. Whenever Hal had said this, Bill had just smiled and nodded, not absorbing it, and so Hal had stopped saying anything at all. 

As the family grabbed their sunglasses, pool towels, and flip flops, Hal started his observation log for the day. As he’d checked in the newspaper, today was supposed to be 75 degrees, windy but not too windy, partly cloudy, and with a small chance of rain around 4pm. Well, Hal couldn’t speak for the weather later that day, but surely right now was a fair 70. 

“Hal, give me your arm.” His mother said, reaching around to the backseat with sunscreen. 

Hal drew his arm even further back and popped the door open, stepping out into the Westerville Public Pool parking lot. Today was a popular day at the pool, being a Saturday, and many multi-colored cars filled the parking lot, glinting in the sun. Their own, a red ‘64 Pontiac GTO, had been washed and polished yesterday by Hal and Rose as a part of their chores. As he was standing there, Hal just happened to notice a spot they’d missed on the metal frame surrounding the back window. Perfect.  

“Alright, gang, let’s go!” Bill said, waving all of them over to the front entrance.  

The front entrance to the Westerville Public Pool was a behemoth of a structure. The gray slate making up the wall of the exterior provided in one’s mind the cold, sharp feeling of an ice fortress, which contrasted heavily with the wide pool expanse and white lawn chairs basking in the sun on the other side. Like most things in Westerville, Hal often found himself annoyed at this structural juxtaposition. Who had decided on this, and why had the city council vote passed? He’d think they would want a more friendly space for marketing purposes. Especially considering this space was only used in the summer. Maybe it would’ve made a good entrance to an ice skating rink. Or a castle. But for each, Hal thought you’d probably want either a simpler or grander structure, respectively. 

After they paid and got their wristbands, Hal and Rose went to sit on one end of the pool while Bill and his wife Carla grabbed two lawn chairs under the shade on the other side.  

“Ahhhh,” Bill said, fully relaxing and spreading out his arms, “this is just the perfect summer day, don’t you think Carl?” 

Carla flapped her magazine open and perched her sunglasses on her nose librarian style to read. “Yes, it’s fine, Bill.” 

Bill sat up in his chair and turned toward her. “Y’know, I was thinkin’, after we get the mortgage paid and finish renovations, we should get a motorhome! The kids would just love it, don’t you think? They’d just adore it. And then we could go visit my sister Millie out west and go see the Grand Canyon, you know how I’ve always wanted to see that, Carl.” 

Carla fanned her magazine again. Bill sat up and stretched out his arms in a way that made his chest puff out. He still thought he looked like a handsome devil when he did this, but all he really looked like was a sweaty pig with his dark armpits and soiled palm tree shirt. “Bill, isn’t this a talk for another time?” 

He leaned even closer toward her and took her hand in his soggy meat packs. “Yes, Carl, I know, I just….I’m feelin’ like now’s a special time, and we should go after this stuff. Nothin’ like the present. Y’know, Jim was tellin’ me the other day that soon they’re predictin’ a crash in the markets soon, inflation goin’ up and all that.” 

“Bill, you know I don’t care for the money talk.” 

“Yes, I know, Carl, it’s just that,” he sighed, blue eyes getting that exasperated look they did when the two of them talked for longer than 5 minutes, “I’m feelin’ a real change is comin’ soon, som’in I really need.” 

“That’s good for you, Bill.” Carla took her hand back and returned to reading her article about Jane Fonda.  

The incessant chatter of the other families and the spray of people roaring, splashing, and moving about kept the silence between them less awkward than it usually was. The sun line had moved just a hair closer to the pool edge when Bill spoke up again. 

“Well, howdy doody, if it isn’t Jim and Gertie right there in the flesh! I’m gonna get somethin’ to drink, you want anything Carl?” His chair creaked loudly when he got up.  

The name Gertie had rocked Carla so much to her core that it took her a second to recover. “Uhh, uhh, sure, a strawberry margarita.” 

Carla kept up her magazine, but it was merely a decoration as she was really watching Bill walk over and start talking to Jim and Gertie Dolis, their neighbors a couple of houses down the street. Carla couldn’t help but take a look at Gertie. Gertie was dressed up, as usual, in one of her favorite floral dresses. This time, it was a knee-length light blue dress with faded yellow and green flowers. Her hair was done up in perfect, cinnamon bun curls that reached just below her chin, and her leather-skin handbag and cat eye sunglasses matched. Her smile was like a wave colliding with the shore; gigantic and teeth-grinning until it crashed down a mere second later. Carla looked back at her magazine. But every so often…she caught her eyes wandering, again and again. What did random words mean when Gertie’s very essence was able to captivate her peripheral vision?  

Bill stopped talking to the Dolises. They moved over in Carla’s direction while Bill went to get the drinks. Carla tensed. Was she wearing the right swimsuit? She’d grabbed an old one out of her closet that morning, a pink checkered one. Did it look alright? What about her hair? Carla wished she’d paid a bit more attention to her appearance than the perfunctory daily routine. Would Gertie even notice her? 

As their sandals clacked more audibly against the pavement, Carla fidgeted more in her seat, and then tried to pretend that her movement was due to an itch on her back. Just a painful itch, really, one of those ones where you try your darndest to avoid it but it creeps up anyway until you just have to scratch it, real shame. 

Jim and Gertie paused for a moment when they reached Carla’s chair. Gertie leaned down a bit and offered her big smile before waving. “Hi, Carla, so nice to see you!” And then they were off. 

Gertie’s hands. Her wedding ring. Carla remembered watching the ring over a game of bridge last Wednesday night. This was about the only time the ladies in the neighborhood had to socialize. That and the bi-weekly barbeques in the spring and summer, but that also involved kids and husbands. Gertie was the one who usually organized the bridge club; she was one of the more social ladies and also was a mean dealer.  

It was after the gathering, and Carla stayed to help Gertie wash the dishes. Carla washed. Gertie dried.  

“So,” Carla started up conversation, “how are things with your family?” 

Gertie didn’t look up from toweling dry a china bowl. “They’re real fine, things are going well.” 

Carla paused, waiting a bit for Gertie to reciprocate. When she didn’t, Carla pipped back up. “Didja know, my Hal joined the robotics club at school. It sounds so hard, he’s bringin’ home all these gadgets and things, he tries to explain it to me and I can’t even understand what he’s saying! And my Rose is singing in the church choir and taking dancing lessons. Sometimes I can just hardly keep up! I’m sure you feel that way.” 

Again, Gertie didn’t respond. The two women stood in silence as the water ran and the soap bubbled and the plates clattered.  

Finally, Gertie broke the silence. 

“Y’know,” sigh, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About me, about you, about all of us. Do you even like your kids?” 

Carla inhaled sharply and made a tisk tisk sound. “Gertie, what kinda question is that?” 

“I’ve just been noticing, for a while now, that I do the same kind of things everyone else does. I go to all the parties. Pretend I like everyone. Made small talk about the kids like I actually care what they’re doing.” She paused. “The truth? I’m hurting inside. I can’t stand this life anymore, it’s so meaningless. I think we’re all hurting inside.” 

Carla could hardly believe what she was hearing. She dropped the plate she was rinsing into the sink and turned to meet Gertie’s eye.  

Gertie was staring at her intently. Her eyebrows had that crease between them that meant she was thinking real hard and her hands were balled at her sides. But then she did something unexpected. She brought her hands to Carla’s face and cupped her chin. She brought her lips to Carla’s and pressed them together. Carla didn’t back away. Instead, they danced together, not stopping when their backs collided with the counter or when an orange polka-dot cup accidently slipped over the edge and shattered on the tile. There was always time to clean it up. 

Carla sank down, feeling the cheap plastic strips dig into her back. Did Gertie remember that night? Did the sheer insanity and endless questions not just about it, but about life after it keep Gertie up all night, tossing and turning, like it did with Carla? How was Gertie pretending like everything was normal? How was she still wearing her wedding ring and parading around with her husband? It’d kept Carla positively sick. She’d found herself slipping into Gertie’s philosophy. It was quite scary, actually, how easily it applied to her own life; getting the kids to and from activities and fulfilling the same housewife activities.  

As she was staring into the distance, Bill’s movements entered her line of vision. Carla huffed and returned to her article. 

Bill, meanwhile, was standing and waiting for the server to finish making drinks. As he waited, he squinted under the sun and took out his wallet. Down $1.20 for the margarita. Down nothing for the water (which he was going to pretend was vodka in front of Carl). Down $4.02 for the gas they’d picked up on the way here. Displaying the bills against his palm, he counted: three $1 bills, one $5 bill, and two 10s. $28. Not a bad total. Not at all. 

Bill took the drinks and promptly walked back over to his lawn chair.  

“Here you go, Carl!” 

“Thanks, Bill.” 

Ahh. He reclined back in the chair. Put up his glasses. Flexed out his feet. Spotted his kids playing together in the pool. That was one thing he’d never understood; in all of his experience, siblings either hated each other or (in his and Millie’s case) were indifferent to each other. So it had always confused him that growing up, Hal and Rose got along so well, considering how different they were. Something flashed in the sun a second. Bill tried to guess what it was, something white flapping on the end of Hal’s swimming trunks. It was probably a tag from the store. Store….oh no. He’d forgotten to count the 20¢ for each of the kid’s new swimsuits (Carl had absolutely insisted they go to the store since the kids had grown), and he’d forgotten to count how many cents he had in his wallet. Bill’s fingers started itching. He picked at his fingernails. He couldn’t easily count the cents sitting right here. 

“Welp, Carl, I’m headin’ to the good ol’ John!” Bill put his hands on his knees and rose up with more effort than the action maybe should’ve taken. 

“That’s fine, Bill.” 

Bill walked past the refreshments stand again to meet up with the bathroom doors. Buoys. Gulls. They even had drawings of both buoys and gulls on each door. He’d always thought this was massively hilarious. Never quite gotten over the funniness of it, in fact. But no one else seemed to think it was that funny. 

Bill pushed open the ‘Buoy’ door and stood in the light of the bathroom sink. He watched in the mirror as the cents fell out into his hand. Seven pennies. Two nickels. One quarter. 42¢. Enough for a couple of odd things at the store. A burger, maybe. 

Bill had been standing in a bathroom like this not too long ago. Last weekend in fact. On a business trip down near Columbus. The trip had been partly business, but also partly to go to the yearly horse racing championship. And he’d been standing in the bathroom mirror, washing his hands.  

A guy had come up to the sink on his left. Washed his hands. Adjusted his straw fedora. Talked about his family. Bill had asked what he did for work. He said he was an attorney, but was getting into investing, knew his way around the stocks. Bill had said that’s really interesting, he was thinking about getting into the same thing. The man dried his hands. Bill did too. The man held the door open for Bill and they kept talking.  

They talked all the way up to the betting counter. Bill had mentioned just how excited he was to be here, that he’d been following the races all year and felt he had a sense of which horse to pick. Said he really wanted to win big, to buy a nicer car and a better house and show off as the richest family in town.  

The man said this was exactly the place to fulfill those kinds of wishes. Said he’d been here many times and seen people strike gold. Said he’d done it himself once or twice, was able to move to the Columbus area and open up his own law firm because of it.  

Bill had clapped him on the back at that. A good chum, that one. The man’s success had felt like his own in that moment. What could Bill become if he just had the money? Maybe a lawyer, too, or the owner of a car dealership or an investment banker on Wall Street! The possibilities were endless! 

When they got near the counter, the man told Bill who he thought was going to win. The only Palomino, known as “Ghost Fire.” Bill hadn’t really had any idea about what horse would win, so when he got up to the counter, he picked Ghost Fire.  

Imagine Bill’s disappointment when the spotted Appaloosa “Bixby” ended up winning. When he turned his horror stricken face back to where his new friend was and saw him celebrating with a group of other guys. 

Bill stared at himself again in the mirror. Twenty-eight dollars and forty two cents. Their allowance for the month.  

Bill walked back out of the door and turned again toward the lawn chair. 

At that same moment, Hal and Rose were in the deep end. Rose was swimming, practicing her backstroke, while Hal was merely sitting with his toes in the water, writing observations in his notebook. 

“Hal?” 

“Yeah Rose?” 

“Why do you think the sky’s blue?” It seemed like an obvious observation, but Rose had been pondering this for a while and usually had such obvious thoughts like this that actually turned very deep and philosophical when she really got to thinking about them.  

“Well,” Hal situated himself better where he was sitting, which he usually did when preparing his mind to recite one of the many facts stored away up there, “it’s actually because of radiation. You see, there’s many different forms of radiation that hit our earth from the sun. Longwave and shortwave. There’s a lot to explain there but the gist is that some types of radiation are absorbed by different layers of the atmosphere and others are scattered. In this case, the blue light has a shorter wavelength, so it gets scattered and that’s what creates the blue color.” 

Rose never understood what Hal was saying, but she always loved hearing him get interested in things. Except this time she was swimming and the water splashing by her ears made her miss a lot of the monologue, only hearing things like “radiation” “waves” and “blue”. 

“You know, Hal? You amaze me.” Rose caught her brother’s eye as she looped back around and saw he was blushing slightly. “Seriously. You’re, like, the smartest person I know. Just invite me to your science award ceremony or whatever when you’re famous, ok?” 

Hal did something he didn’t usually do with people (in fact, he only did this with Rose), which was to extend the conversation by saying something other than a scientific fact. “Ha, ha, of course I will Rose. But you’re saying it like you won’t have an awards show of your own.” 

Rose just laughed, a sound that sounded eerily similar to a dolphin. “Oh, come on, Hal. You know I’m going to be a nobody. If I’m lucky I’ll find someone and get married out of high school, then we’ll start a family and probably end up someplace like this, sitting around the pool in a small town.” Rose stopped swimming though and started treading water, looking over to where their parents were sitting in the shade of a big frilly umbrella. “But, at least, whatever I do, I’m not gonna end up like them. When I bring my kids to the pool, I’m gonna play with them in the water instead of just sitting with a magazine in my lap.” Rose’s lips turned down. 

Hal looked down out of an eternal shame that kids sometimes feel for silly adults and replied, “Yeah, I know Rose. I’m not gonna end up like them either.” 

It was a weird kind of philosophy, those two had in that moment, worrying about the atmosphere and parents and life goals while 5-year-olds with animal floaties and swim goggles were running and giggling all around them. At the same moment they were questioning their futures, they didn’t stop and think that their parents might also be questioning their futures. That the neighbor down the street wasn’t very much a stranger. That a man somewhere in Columbus was sitting on a barstool having beers with his millionaire friends. That any kind of random person out there in the world could make a decision and change the course of Hal and Rose’s lives. 

Such people like the group of girls that had just entered the pool area. They looked pretty normal at first. In fact, Rose didn’t notice them all that much until one of them, a girl named Steffie, flipped her hair back over her shoulder in the exact same way she did during school. And then Rose was catapulted out of the moment.  

The girl’s locker room after school. Rose changing her shoes and packing up her bag. Sitting on the bench. Smell of dank clothes and deodorant. Shoes echoing on the floor. Rose pretending not to notice. Shoes getting closer. A group of girls standing around her. Rose carefully setting down the bag. 

The girls taunting her, calling her names. Steffie kicking at her bag, taking out her clothes, forcing her hands behind her back and her head down on the floor. Pinned under her foot. Oww. Nails digging. Feet kicking. Stomach hurting. Oww. Oww. Oww. 

Hands grabbing. Dragging her back up. Name calling. Tumbling into the shower room. Steffie turning on the sprinkler. Turning the dial, hot, hot, hotter. Knees down on the ground. Old skid marks opened back up. Mouth forced open. Trying to swallow. Gagging… 

Rose’s feet kicked erratically under water. Her hands stopped working. The sounds of people talking suddenly turned into sharp piercing icicles and she couldn’t think. As what usually happens when the regular rhythm of treading is interrupted, Rose started to sink. She was at a point where she was still above water, but where the tangy water was lapping up against her face and pouring in her mouth and making it hard to see. 

A distant voice came. “Rose, Rose!” Rose tried to follow the sound, but she couldn’t find any pattern to her kicking and flapping and ended up underwater. The dark cerulean water closed in. Flow. Eddy. A blanketed and thick mass. Gliding over and around her skin. Rose couldn’t think, she could only sink. The echo of a kick came to her gut, another to her spine. She struggled and then didn’t struggle anymore. She closed her eyes. 

~ 

Another lifeguard came and wrapped a towel around Rose. “…just try to be a bit more careful in the water next time, okay, sweetie?” Rose nodded mutely. She was always careful in the water. She was on the swim team.  

Collectively, their flip flops sounded like a few loud dying rubber ducks as they walked back out to the parking lot. Hal looked at his watch. It was 3:52pm. No rain yet.  

They crowded back in the car and Bill switched the radio on and backed out. There were still a lot of cars left in the parking lot. It was Saturday after all. But very soon there would be a mad rush out, people leaving to go home and get ready in time for dinner. 

On the way home, Hal could hear his parents arguing in the front. His mother wondered why they were going a different route. She wanted to stop by the grocery store and pick up some new yarn while they were out. Bill was taking a different route, a shortcut, he explained, to save on gas. In the backseat, Hal reached across the brown leather seating and took his sister’s hand.