Christian's teaching me to swim. Or I should say, Sam did, in the end.
It's true. Christian had said he was tired of seeing me dogpaddling around the point to get back to the beach after being thrown off the cliff. He said I look like a terrified four-year-old the minute someone lets go of me. He said that should change and since we have a pool with a shallow and a deep end, it's time. Before Halloween, he says.
I have my red cross badges up to green. I'm not afraid of water, per se. Just the dark murky water that I can't see the bottom of. So he promptly threw me off the scary side of the cliff into the dark murky water that I can't see the bottom of and I screamed so loud something snapped in my head and then he proceeded to yell instructions I couldn't hear because I was fighting not being dragged to my death by the invisible monsters just below me. I frantically dogpaddled the whole way around back to the beach and then I asked him to fuck off and die.
(Rock climbing went much the same way, if you remember. He dropped my lines so I went plunging down the face of the cliff (a different cliff) and told me to recover. And Jacob punched him in the face afterward.
Christian is the only adrenaline junkie we have left who is as extreme as one can get.)
You'll be single forever. I tell him after the second throw. And PJ came out and told him the pool is where he can teach me and God help him if he scares me like that again.
I have a girlfriend, he tells me with a smile in the shallow end. My safe space, they call it with a laugh. The water's up to my neck. We don't do shallow, Caleb told me when the pool was being built. Besides, the children are taller than you.
Goddamn it.
He didn't turn out to be much of a teacher. Oh, and he's dating Erin (Jacob's sister) again long distance. They're talking, he says. That means dating, I tell him. They've done this dance before. I'm so happy I forget he's an asshole, especially when Sam offers to take over. We're both somewhat relieved. I love Christian to death but he's very heavy handed when it comes to me. It doesn't work.
No, I never dated or slept with him. That's probably part of the problem.
I would guess. I've known you since you were eight. At some point you're going to have to be brave, Bridget.
I am brave! I cry.
Then swim in your precious sea, he says as he turns to go back to the house.
Sam is the complete opposite. I get lessons beginning with simple strokes, including him physically holding me up in the water, turning my head to breathe and my arms to do mock-crawls so I get the motion and the timing down. Then backstroke. Floating properly. Treading water properly. Proper dog paddle (fingers together, Bridget, or you're wasting energy!)
Oh.
Whoops.
Butterfly. Which is terrifying. But I can almost do it now. Kind of.
It'll be years before you're ready for the Olympics, Bridge.
That's okay. I just don't want it to take half an hour to get back to the beach when Duncan can do it in three minutes.
He's six three! And he'll take you with him anyway.
No one likes that, Sam.
Then do your front crawl and you'll be fine. We'll keep practicing but you did great. By Halloween you'll be a pro. Are you tired?
No, I'm good. Thank you for the lesson. But I wrapped myself in one of the giant pendleton towels we keep in the poolshed and curled up exhausted in one of the chaises and slept until lunchtime in the shade.
