When I was six years old, my exasperated parents finally relented and allowed me to visit a friend and swim in her pool. I hounded them, week after week, begging to go. My bathing suit was one size too small and my mother made it as an excuse. Its not ladylike, it will fall off when you are swimming... I didn't care. With my flipflops on and butt cheeks hanging out of my swimsuit, I marched around the block to her house with my towel in hand and sunhat on my head.
I remember leaving in defiance and my father stood at the door watching me as I walked away. I turned back for a second and saw that my mother had joined him and it looked like as if they were deep in discussion. All I knew was that I had their permission, they knew where my friend lived and I promised to return after an hour. Problem was, I did not know how to swim.
Squeeze me?
Yes, I convinced my parents that I would swim, only under her mom's supervision and with my friend in the pool, just in the shallow end. They had spoken to her mother just before I left and she reassured them that everything would be ok. Where am I going with this? Hold on!
When I reached her house, my heart was pounding in sheer excitement. I was going swimming! Back then, it was only a spectator sport for me. I remember our play sessions being interrupted by parents taking my friends to swim lessons or having pools in their backyards and swimming throughout the summer. While this was going on, I would watch from my bedroom window, my knees sore as I kneeled on my lumpy bed and watched from afar. The pool would glisten in the sun and the shouts of laughter made me yearn to be with them, playing and enjoying the cool water during those hot summer days. Instead, shouts of my father coming from downstairs would barge into my dreams as he would rant about the mess I left in the toyroom. Yes, believe it or not, I remembered all this. Hey, dreams start very young, you know. Where am I going with this? I am getting there! Patience, my friend, patience.
When I reached their house, and let myself into their backyard, my friend's mother smiled as I delicately placed my towel on the retractable lawn chair and removed my sunhat and sunglasses. Melissa and I giggled as we sat next to each other, deciding to tan before going into the water. (Little did I know, the process was the other way around). We finally got into the shallow end and I screamed with delight. The pool was not heated and the water woke me up. Melissa laughed as she watched me 'pretend' to swim. She made me practice holding my breath under water. I blew ferocious bubbles and thought I was doing the 'doggypaddle'. We got out, approximately half an hour later.
As we were drying off, their phone rang inside the house. Melissa's mother looked over at us, mainly me, and sternly said not to go in the pool or near the deep end while she went to pick up the phone. Melissa nodded and I looked at her and imitated her actions, with a silly smile. At this point, her mother went in the house and left us alone. As Melissa applied her mother's suntan lotion with her back to me, I folded my arms behind my back and walked over to the other side of the pool--the deep end. I don't remember exactly if Melissa saw me walk over. I remember looking at the line that divided the deep end from the shallow end. I squinted, not sure if I was seeing it right. The line seemed to bend under water and I was not sure why. I stood, with my feet dangling precariously at the edge, and looked down. Something about the deep end thrilled me. I was only looking, not going in. I wondered what all the fuss was about. Being so close to the deep end aroused a stir in the pit of my stomach. It was all so exciting.
But at that very moment, I lost my balance and fell in. I clearly remember being under the water. At first, it was surreal. I could not believe I had fallen in the deep end. For a split second, I was in awe as I looked at the dividing line that had deceived me at the bottom of the pool. It wasn't crooked. Upon this realization, I panicked. I forgot to hold my breath and the water came in. As I thrashed around, I understood my 'pretend' swimming would not save me now. Melissa was above me at the edge of the pool, calling my name. I looked up and saw her blurred image.
"RAISE YOUR HAND! RAISE YOUR HAND!" I heard her yell. I stuck my hand up and felt her tug at it. It took her two attempts before she had a good grip and pulled me out of the pool. I lay on my back and saw the clouds and sky. I was gagging, coughing and spewing water from out of my nose. Melissa pushed me on my side, whacking my back. Her frightened mother heard the commotion from inside the house and raced around the pool.
"Are you ok? Oh darling, can you breathe?" Her face had gone pale. She grabbed my towel from the chair and wrapped it around me. I nodded and told her I was ok. She kept rubbing my shoulders, trying to warm me up. Melissa smiled at me and commented on my swimming style. "That doggy paddle kept you up a bit so I could grab your hand."
I smiled back. "So I can really swim?" I asked incredulously. Melissa slapped me on the back. "Yeah man! Come back tomorrow!"
"There is not going to be a tomorrow! I am calling her parents to come pick her up. She almost drowned today and you pulled her out. She does not know how to swim and she shouldn't swim in our pool until she does!" She made us follow her into their house as she dialed my number. I hung my head low and Melissa put her arm around me to console me. I did not want her to call my parents. I begged her not to but she insisted that they know what had happened. She spoke calmly and reassured my frightened parents that I was ok.
Going back home with my parents felt like the walk of shame. My father berated me all the way home and my mother shook her head in dismay, ruminating over what may have happened if Melissa did not pluck me from the deep end. I had a perpetual 'wedgey' as my wet bathing suit rode up on our way home but that was the least of my worries. My father forebade me from swimming in ANY friend's pool and ask me to retire my bathing suit. He yelled at me the whole way home as cars passed by and people looked over from their front lawns to see what all the shouting was about.
I went home and cried the entire night. Not as a result of his admonishment but because I would not have the chance to fall into the deep end again.
To fear is to live. And although I feared getting married to him all the while we were planning our wedding, the exhilaration of the unknown outweighed having to know everything.
I was content NOT knowing everything. It would come in time and I was prepared to fall into the deep end with him... after our vows were said and done.
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