Yannick Murphy - This is the Water

This is you in the water. You swim in a lane reserved for swimmers who are not on the swim team. You swim while the swim team swims alongside you. This is you thinking as you’re swimming that it sounds as if the water is whispering to you. Swimming always calms you. You rarely think about Thomas or your brother while you’re swimming. In fact, you started to swim more seriously to forget about your brother after his death. It’s as if the water embraces you, lets you know that here is a place you can be without getting hurt. I will buoy you. I will caress you. I will soothe you and whisper to you, it seems to say. You hear the faint shush of the water going by your ears as you freestyle forward. You wonder what the water, if it could talk, could possibly be telling you about your stroke. Could it be telling you to lift your arms up higher, as if you were reaching over a barrel, the way you have heard swim coaches do when describing the stroke? Could it be telling you to kick harder? After all, your kick is barely a splash, barely a flutter. After you take a swim yourself, just a mile of freestyle, a two-hundred individual medley, and an IM kick, not even a quarter of the workout that the swim team will do, you look at your toes in the shower. They look like toes on a child. They are fat and rounded, and not slender and long, the way Chris’s are. You wiggle them, letting them send up a happy hello to you from where they are on the tiled floor. You wash your hair that is thinning, thinking maybe your brother wasn’t so dumb after all, maybe doing yourself in before you’re really old and useless is the right way to go. A boy who is allowed in the women’s locker room because there is something wrong with the boy and he is in a wheelchair and has a woman who helps wash him, is in the next shower stall. The boy says the word “water” over and over again. “Yes, you like the water,” the woman says. You can hear soap or shampoo going through the boy’s hair in the next shower stall, as if the woman were playing with the boy’s hair, lifting it up into peaks like a troll, or creating a long blade of it through the center, like a foamy Mohawk.

When Paul, Chris’s husband, shows up after practice to pick Cleo up, you decide you’ll go and talk to him. Maybe there’s a way you can tell just by talking to him if he’s really cheating on Chris. “Hello, Paul,” you say, coming up to him, getting his attention as he’s turned away from you looking out the door. When he turns toward you smiling, you feel as though a light is shining back at you. Even the facility seems brighter, as if up above through the high skylights clouds have made way for sun, but it’s not the sun. The sun is on its way down. “Hi, Annie,” he says, his whole face opening up to you, as if the sole purpose of him standing there and waiting were for you to come by and talk to him. Has he always been this good-looking? you think to yourself. You don’t remember ever standing this close to him before. Usually it’s the mothers who have the kinds of jobs they can leave early to pick up the kids and drive them from school to practice whom you regularly see, not the fathers. You see Kim’s father sometimes waiting at practices, he’s always working on his computer, or you see Keith’s father at practices, always reading a war novel. You see Catherine’s father, a man who watches the entire practice attentively as if it were as exciting as a meet. You’ve seen Jonathan’s father sometimes driving up in his pickup with the lawn care logo on the side and driving off again after Jonathan’s gotten out of the truck with his swim bag, but again, it’s mostly the mothers you see. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since Thomas, your own husband, has touched you in the night, and because when you tried to touch him last he patted your hand instead, that Paul suddenly seems attractive. But you are no spring chicken, and you would be very surprised if Paul even looked at you twice. You decide he will probably notice your graying hair first and then the wrinkles by your eyes that are so pronounced they look more like the head of a serious garden rake than the proverbial crow’s feet in lines of three, which to you sound almost dainty in comparison. You decide, when he looks at you, still smiling, that you can see why Chris, his beautiful wife, married him, and why any student of his would probably lean over his desk a little too far, revealing a little too much, in order to get his attention, and to get him to smile at her the way he has just smiled at you. You decide your friend Chris should maybe be more worried than you thought. You realize a few things.

You realize it has been a long time since you have met another man who you thought was attractive. You realize how you are probably a good wife, never talking to men other than your husband, never thinking maybe there are men you could flirt with, men who would talk to you about things other than the decline of civilization, and particles in the air you can’t see. You realize your eyeliner may be smudged and that you should run the tip of your finger under your eye so you don’t look as though you’ve been crying. You realize that when you speak, your voice sounds gravelly, as if all these years you’ve been smoking cigarettes instead of exercising almost daily, eating healthy food, and drinking from BPA-free containers. You realize that when he, Paul, smiles back at you it seems as if his eyes are twinkling, and as if they’re sending out points of light you can feel animating your face, making you smile back. You realize you have the urge to toss your hair out from where it lies on your shoulders, to give it fullness. You realize that you hold back that urge to toss your hair out from your shoulders because you realize it would be sending a type of signal you haven’t sent in a long time, a signal that you can be attractive if you want to. You realize that the sun is really down outside the facility, and that the pavement is turning dark, almost as dark as India ink. You realize you are thinking that maybe without the sunlight shining on you, you might not appear to have lines like garden rakes at the corners of your eyes. You realize you are staring at Paul’s lips as he talks. They are sensual. You realize now that you are standing close to him that he is taller than you previously thought, and that you have always been attracted to tall men. You realize you are asking Paul how he is enjoying being the parent of such a good swimmer on the swim team, and you realize he is answering you, and choosing his words carefully, saying he likes it just fine, that he thinks Cleo is the one who is really enjoying it, which is the way it should be. You realize you like the sound of his voice. It’s a deep voice that makes you look at the skin on his chest that you can see between the collars of his shirt, where the top three buttons are open. You look at his chest after hearing his voice, wondering what his voice would sound like if he were talking softly and you were laying your head against him. You realize you are stepping back, telling him you are glad you met him. You’re afraid of how much you’re imagining being closer to this man. You wonder where Thomas is. He came with you to the facility. He does come sometimes to work out or to watch the girls swim, but it’s rare these days, his work being more important. Even though you’ve asked Thomas to come more often to help at the meets, he says he’d rather work on the wood at home or spend extra hours at the lab. Now when you see Thomas coming down the hall from the men’s locker room, after having just showered and changed, you realize that you are relieved. You wish that Thomas, in his infinite wisdom about space and particles, could speed up and get to you faster. You realize Thomas is tall too, and has a deep voice, and eyes that sparkle, and that you are lucky he is all of the things that Paul is, and that you don’t have to toss your hair for Thomas. All that you have to do is go get in the car with Thomas, and go home, and at night, after he has patted your hand, and after images of your brother have paraded in front of you, all you have to do is sleep.