Stephen Dixon - Frog

They go over. “Excuse me, but I’d like to — my name’s Howard Tetch and this—” “Oh sure — Olivia. We chatted before. She’s so pretty and well behaved, and sharp? — oh boy.” “She is, which’ll make what I want to say easier. I’d like to take a quick dip—” “Go ahead, 111 watch her.” “But a very quick one. Thirty strokes out, thirty back or so, maybe a little whale movement on my back out there, but that’s all. And she knows—” “Really, don’t worry. Even if she can’t swim or hold her breath underwater, she can go in up to her waist. I’ll be right here, and I’m a WSI.” I’m sorry, don’t know…” “Water safety instructor. I’ve two lifesaving badges, giving me the authority to save two adults of up to three hundred pounds total at one time.” “Well, couldn’t be better. OK, kid. Up to your knees, we’ll say, but no higher and not for long. I don’t want you catching a chill — getting one.” “Anyhow, I don’t want to go in again. I want to play here.” “Fine — By the way, your name’s what? — just in case I get a cramp out there and have to shout for help. Only kidding — but what?” “Lita Reinekin.” “Thanks, then, Mrs., Ms., Reinekin.” “Lita,” holding out her hand. “Lita,” shaking it. “OK, sweetie, Daddy’s going in. Be good. Do what—” “I will,” and she goes to her pail and things on the beach.

He throws the towel to their place on the grass, says to the woman “Think she needs her shirt? — nah, she’s OK,” walks in to the water, turns around. Olivia’s sitting in the muddy sand, her legs wrong, putting her two rubber adult figures into the pail. Woman’s a few feet from her, book closed on a finger holding the page, he presumes, looking at Olivia. He splashes water behind his knees and on the back of his neck. Why’s he doing that? He already adjusted to it when he was swinging her around. “Put your feet out, Olivia,” and without looking at him, she does. He walks out some more, dives in, swims. Counts ten strokes, turns around. She’s still playing on the beach. Should have told her to stay in the sun part of the beach, but he won’t be out long. Swims fifteen strokes, turns around. Can’t see her so well now. “Olivia … hi,” he yells. “Hi, Olivia.” She doesn’t respond. He waves — maybe she’s looking at him on the sly, which she does. The woman waves at him. Very nice, he thinks, she’s very nice. And good-looking, and that long and what’s probably a strong body. But WSI? Two people and three hundred pounds? How would she know what any two people weighed when they were drowning? People she didn’t know, in other words. If they weighed more than that and one or both of them drowned, would she be penalized in some way for having tried to save them? Maybe he’s missing the point. Ten more strokes, then thinks: give yourself ten more. Likes being this far out when nobody else is here. Ten more, looks around. People on the ledge seem to have left, sailboat’s not around anymore, no motorboats today either. Hates those things. If one came close and didn’t see him, what then? Yell, scream, wave frantically, then dive deep if it kept coming. When would he start diving? Depend how fast the boat was going, but something would tell him now . What an awful thought though, motorboat running smack into someone and maybe slicing off an arm or leg, and he shakes his head to get rid of it. Looks to shore. Can scarcely make out anything. The woman, he thinks, where she was sitting, and possibly that speck’s Olivia, but he’s kidding himself. Some other movement on the grassy slope above them, really just blurs, and what looks like a light-colored blanket by a tree, but can’t tell if anyone’s on it. So quiet out here. Nothing as peaceful anywhere. Maybe the top of a secluded mountain where one sees nothing but trees and other mountains, and on the same kind of day: mild temperature, light breeze, mostly clear sky. Should get back. But she’ll be OK. Gets on his back and looks at a bird, probably a hawk, circling way up in the sky. But time to get back. If she were calling him, would he even hear? And he’s much farther out than he usually goes. There’s always the chance of a sudden leg or stomach cramp, though he knows how to uncramp them. A motorboat could suddenly approach, even that sailboat, and his sense of timing in diving might not be as good as he thinks.

Starts back, using the crawl for about fifteen strokes, then the breaststroke for about ten. Can see the beach fairly well now. Woman sitting where she was. Light blanket, if there was one, seems to be gone. Doesn’t see Olivia or anybody else there. Some might have left, others gone into the woods, Olivia with them for some reason, picking berries, looking for exotic mushrooms or birds; to piss, even. Or she could be behind a tree or bush, playing hide-and-seek. Stares; doesn’t see her. Ten more crawl strokes, stops. Woman reading. Their towels and shirts. Olivia’s toys on the beach. If they’re playing hide-and-seek, why’s the woman reading? Pretending not to see her perhaps. “Hello … hello,” he yells, treading water. She looks up. “Where’s Olivia?” Stares at him; he can’t make out her expression. He swims hard the rest of the way, stands when he’s able to and yells while walking fast as he can through the water “Where’d Olivia go?” “What?” she says, cupping her ear. “Olivia — my daughter — where is she?” “Who?” “The girl I left with you. Is she in the woods? Or you let her go back to the car alone?” “I’m sorry, sir,” standing when he gets right up to her, “but I don’t know what you’re talking about. You didn’t leave anybody or anything with me. You were here by yourself before—” “By myself?” “Over there, and you went in the water—” “I went in only after you agreed to look after my girl. You said you were a WSI.” “A WSI?” “Look, what is this, a joke on me? You two — together — and she’s hiding somewhere?” “No, nothing.” “Then you want me to panic, I’m panicking. You’re nuts, fine, be nuts. But — oh, fuck you — Olivia,” he yells, listens. “Olivia, it’s Daddy. Come out from wherever you are, and now.” Listens, looks around, runs to the woods and yells “Olivia, do you hear me?” “If there was a girl—” the woman says. “There fucking was. And be quiet. I want to hear if she yells back.” Listens. “Olivia,” he yells. “If you’re hiding, come out. Daddy’s serious. Game’s over if you’re playing one. If the woman I left you with told you to play a game, she doesn’t want you to play it anymore either. Now come out this second.” Listens.

“Stay here,” he says. “If you see her, tell her to wait till I come out.” Runs to their spot, slips his sneakers on, runs into the woods shouting “Olivia, Olivia.” Comes on a path and runs along it shouting “Olivia, it’s me, Daddy, where are you?” Path ends and he runs back along it and out into the grass and says “You see her?” and she says “No, who?” and he says “Jesus, I’d like to bop you. What the hell’s wrong with you — don’t you understand anything?” She says “You’ve threatened me enough — I have to go,” and he says “Please, I’m sorry, stay while I look,” and runs into the woods at a clearing closer to the beach, trips, gets up, knee’s bleeding, says “Screw it, fuck it, oh shit, shit, shit,” runs to the end of the clearing, shouts “Olivia, Olivia, it’s Daddy, yell if you hear me; please, darling, yell,” listens, squeezes his hands hard as he can, digs all his nails into his face till he’s out of breath, runs into the woods a few feet, too thick, she’d never get through it and wouldn’t even try, runs through the clearing to the grass, woman’s putting her things in a canvas bag, he says “Don’t go, whatever you do — I need someone to stay while I look up the hill for her, all right?” and she says “Really, this is crazy,” and he says “Please, no more accusations from me, just give me a couple more minutes,” and she nods and mouths OK, he runs up the path to the parking area, stops several times to yell for Olivia and stare into the woods on both sides, gets to his car, nothing seems changed: windows down, things where he thinks they were, shouts “Olivia, you around here? Daddy’s very worried about you, so yell if you hear me,” listens, runs to the other car there which must be hers if she didn’t walk here from wherever she’s staying or park and take the woods’ path from the ledge parking area, windows up, driver’s door locked, pillow in back, New England road map and several spruce cones and a sand dollar on the dashboard, microbiology textbook and magic marker on the passenger seat, memorizes the Massachusetts license plate and car color and make, is about to run back when he thinks “Why not?” and puts his ear to the car trunk, knocks on it and says “Olivia, Olivia?” runs back, woman’s in shirt and shorts and is fitting her feet into sandals, place where she was sitting’s cleared, he yells from about twenty feet away “One more minute; just want to check the path to the ledge; I’ll run, so I’ll be right back,” she slumps her shoulders and an expression that says “Enough’s enough already, I have to go,” runs on the ledge path about a quarter-mile shouting for Olivia and looking into the woods, nobody’s at the ledge, towel draped over a tree branch but it’s dry and could have been there for days, runs to the parking area, no cars or people, shouts her name and runs back along the path.