Philip's
mom sat on the cement bleachers with the other mothers. The humid heat was
unbearable but she resisted. This was her favourite time of the week. It was
when she felt like a normal mom.
The child,
under his yellow fluorescent bathing cap with a prickly blow fish on the side,
which he had chosen himself because he loved them so much, and matching
goggles, swam effortlessly. Every now and then he would stop to wave. His smile
lit up the space around him casting indefinite shadows on all the other
children.
The moment
she waved back, he would put his head under water and continue swimming. He was
fast, faster than the other swimmers, and this comforted her.
It was his
element in a way. From birth. A water birth. It was a new method then. Very
experimental and they had interviewed her on TV. A special mom. Never a normal one, not even
then.
He stopped
again and waved. The line of children behind him - he was always first because
he was the fastest – had to come to a stop.
Some complained,
splashing, others told them to quit complaining and waved too.
She always
waved back.
His smile,
there with all those nice children, made her heart melt and her eyes well up;
she slipped on her dark glasses. She burst with pride: she couldn't believe he
was the fastest child in the water. His element.
“Is that
your son there?” asked a new mom.
She had
never seen this woman before. Very beautiful. Transparent skin, thin body,
designer jeans. She pulled her own baggy t-shirt over her huge breasts and
bulging waistline.
The new mom
had jingling bracelets of gold and pearls.
Philip, her
son, would have loved to touch those bracelets. She hoped he would not see them
from inside the pool and make a fuss.
The new mom
frightened her. The other moms were friendly, and although they never talked to
her directly, they smiled often, and said how cute Philip was. Fast, too, they
said. They always added that.
She pulled
her t-shirt over her damp skin; it was so hot in the pool area. She was notably
embarrassed by the gold and pearls, the sleek body and perfect teeth.
“My
goodness, he's like a little fish! That's my boy at the back of the line. He
isn't much of a swimmer. Hates water, actually. Would prefer to drown, I
think”.
She wanted
the woman to stop talking, to leave her alone. Her son had stopped again, but
this time, disappointed by his mother's lack of attention, he did not wave;
arms up, he let himself sink slowly to the bottom of the pool. The air around
her became perfectly still. Even the ripples in the water ceased.
A whistle,
shrill, filled the air like a shriek. Philip came back up for air. He looked at
the instructor's stern face, and cast down his eyes, pouting. When he lifted
them, it was to search for his mother on the bleachers. He saw her worried
expression and smiled, unknowing. He waved.
His mother
waved too. Everything went back to normal.
Philip was
at the head of the line swimming in front of all the other children.
The new mom
sat quietly a moment.
“Children
are such pests, aren't they? They know how to work us. But, hey, whatever. It's
nothing compared to real problems” the beautiful woman pointed to a wheelchair
at the side of the pool, “Now that is a real problem. Oh, I couldn't bear it.
These things embarrass me in a way. I never know where to look. I mean, you
don't want to stare or seem curious, but then you don't want to turn your head
and have them think they gross you out or anything either...You have to wonder
how a mother can get through the day with a weight like that on her shoulders”.
And so the
clock struck four pm, the lesson was over, and the new mom got up to leave,
gathering her elegant designer bag and her silk scarf – a scarf,
notwithstanding the incredible heat!
Philip's
mother waited on the cement steps. Philip was always the last one out of the
pool. Her little fish.
When the
other children had filed out, and the mothers had deserted the bleachers, the
instructor dove into the pool, grasped little Philip and helped him out,
placing him carefully in his wheelchair.
The spasms
contorted his round little body, but he waved to his mom. His blissful smile
lit up the space around him casting shadows on the water and walls. They were
shaped somewhat like blow fish.
Matilde Colarossi
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