Drowning Lessons Read Free Page A

hallelujah; I made it; I’m on dry land;
the war is over
. And I swore if I survived I would never, ever so much as look at water again.” He shook his head.
    â€œWhat changed your mind?”
    â€œIt was the damnedest thing. About thirty years ago I just
wanted
to do it. I wanted to go in the water. It was like shaking hands with a Nazi soldier, you know? I just made up my mind: I’m not going to have this
enemy
in my life. Instead I’m going to embrace it; I’m going to learn to
love it
. So I taught myself how to swim.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t hard.”
    â€œThat’s an amazing story,” said the woman.
    â€œIs it?”
    â€œYes, amazing.”
    He had told Dorothy the same story several times, but he did not remember her being amazed. He wondered if she was watching the float now. No, she was reading her best seller or shucking corn for dinner. Dorothy had long since lost any interest in his swimming. He could have drowned, for all she knew.
    They swam back to the dam. In the shallow water, Frank gave her a few more pointers, showing her how far out of the water to lift her head and explaining to her again about breathing.
    â€œIt’s the most important thing,” he said. “When you swimthink of yourself as a breathing machine. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Everything else pretty much takes care of itself.”
    They met several more times. Her swimming improved greatly. One morning after they had swum together, she invited him for coffee. Inside, the Icehouse was cool, even cold, as if ice were still stored there. And it did smell faintly of mildew. Frank watched her open a can of dog food. Her arms were perfectly shaped, gloriously smooth, firm things. He thought of his wife in her baggy robe holding the bacon skillet and felt a sharp, sudden emptiness in his abdomen, as if he’d been gutted.
    That same night, with his belly full of corn and zucchini, Frank slept poorly. Several times he awoke from nightmares of which he remembered nothing more than bubbles, black bubbles. He lay there, touching his forehead with a trembling hand. Beside him Dorothy lay fast asleep, breathing deeply, snoring. He shook himself awake. He wanted to make a confession, then and there. He wanted to tell his slumbering wife everything, say to her,
I have reached the bottom of my willpower. I have loved and been faithful to you for thirty-six years, but enough is enough. I have met another woman. The woman in the Icehouse. Juliet. I have fallen in love with her. She swims.
    He had an erection.
    He got up and took a cold shower. Afterward, he stood dripping in the doorway of the screened porch where they slept, listening to the electric noise of crickets. Gray dawn seeped in through the rattan shades. Turning, he stood at the foot of their bed.
    â€œFrank, is that you?”
    â€œSwim with me,” he said.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œTomorrow. Today. This afternoon. I want you to swim with me. Will you swim with me?” He stood naked in the dark.
    â€œYou know I don’t swim, Frank.”
    â€œI’ll teach you.”
    â€œFrank, for goodness —”
    â€œPlease,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s important. I want you to swim with me, Dorothy. I need you to swim with me.”
    â€œAll right, all right; I’ll swim with you, for godsake.”
    â€œThank you,” he said, and bent down and kissed her.
    â€œBut not this morning. I need to sleep.”
    â€œThis afternoon will do fine,” said Frank.
    He went for his morning swim alone. He wasn’t surprised to see the woman from the Icehouse waiting for him, already in the water.
    â€œPractice makes perfect,” she said, treading.
    They swam out to the float. When they reached it, the sun had broken over the tops of the trees to bathe it in yellow light. They rested, drying and breathing together, their bodies touching. Frank lay on