Circumstances 20

In the panoply of things, it probably wasn’t the worst dive ever, but it had to be in the top ten.  Or five.

I slapped the water hard, landing flat on my back.  I could hear the crack that made as the sting started and I was swallowed by the water.

I started thrashing.  I liked Gary.  I liked him a lot.  But even if he didn’t like me or want me as a friend any longer, I wasn’t about to drown for him.  I wanted to get to the surface.

But landing on my back like that had knocked all the air from my lungs and maybe shocked my system a little because my thrashing  was ineffectual, wasn’t getting me any closer to the surface and I did need to breathe.  Pretty soon.  Now, in fact.  NOW!

My thrashing became more panicked.   Then two hands grabbed me in the pits and yanked me up.  I took a huge gulp of air and yelled, “Owwwwwwww!”

I twisted my body to look at Gary, and he was laughing.  His eyes were sympathetic, but he was laughing.

“That’s the worst dive I’ve ever seen!”

“Yeah, well, I was hoping you’d stop me.”

“I was still thinking about what you’d said.”

“Oh.”  I wasn’t sure what to say about that, so didn’t say anything at all.  I knew he’d speak if I waited, he’d have to, so wait I did, all the while trying to ignore the intense stinging from my back.  He’d have to tell me what he thought about what I’d said.  That was giving me worry than the pain I was feeing.

Instead, though, he said, “You know, you’re supposed to not only throw yourself backwards, you have to elevate your hips, raise your legs, and force your shoulders and head down throughout the dive, reaching backwards with your hands.  Most people practice off the edge of the pool where they’re much closer to the water and the impact, if they do what you did, won’t be nearly as bad.  Most people ease into something that might hurt them if they do it wrong.”

I watched him, and wondered if he were avoiding the important subject on purpose.  Could he really not know how hard it had been for me to say that, and how worried I was about how he’d react?

“It’s sort of like driving a car,” he continued.  “You don’t start off at 70 miles an hour on a busy freeway.  You start in a large empty parking lot.  It’s much safer that way.  You’re less likely to get hurt or do any serious damage.”

He looked at me, expecting a response, his eyes showing me something, but I wasn’t sure what.  When I didn’t respond, just looked at him questioningly, he babbled on.  “You’d never done that before.  You shouldn’t have just plunged in like that, not knowing what to expect.”

And then I finally, finally, realized what he was doing!  He was talking about both my dive and what I’d said!  I hadn’t realized he was that smart.  I thought about it.  Everything he’d said had been ambiguous.

And I smiled.  I felt my fears evaporate.  He was smart, he was playing with me, and I loved it!

First and foremost, he couldn’t be too upset with what I’d told him if he was able to respond this way.  I could feel the relief that realization gave me spread through my body.  Secondly, by doing what he was, he was turning this conversation into an intellectual rather than an emotional moment, and I could handle intellectual much better than emotional.  He was playing in my court, doing it that way.  I’ve said how I’m not strong or brave or good looking.  I didn’t say I wasn’t smart, because, actually, I am.  Nothing to be proud of because it isn’t due to anything I’ve done.  Both my parents are smart.  So I am, too.  Now I could see he was, too.  And he was using his smarts.  I liked that.

I finally took my head out of my ass and responded.  “So you think I should have practiced it, somehow?”

He smiled at me, his eyes sparkled, and I could see he knew that I knew what he was doing.  His smile was infectious, and though smiling wasn’t something I did much of, I couldn’t help but return that one.

“Yeah, led up to it in small increments.  Prepared yourself for it.  You didn’t give it any forethought, just went for it.”

“Not true.  You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about it.  How scared I’ve been of doing it.”

He stopped smiling then, and the sparkle in his eyes turned to compassion.  “Well, now you’ve done it.  The next time should be easier.  You know what it feels like now, and maybe you can change the way you do it to make it go smoother.  You know, learn from what you’ve already done.”

I thought for a second, then said, “Do you mean learn from my past mistakes.”  My smile was gone now, too.  I was forcing him to face the issue squarely now and tell me how he felt, and I could see he realized that, too.

Then his eyes twinkled again.  “I don’t think you want to fall flat on your back again, do you?”

Shit!  OK, two could play this game.  “Yeah, I fell on my back physically.  Tell me, did I do it metaphorically, too?”

He grinned at me.  “You’re better at this than I am.”

“Hey, I need to be better than you at something!  But I’m not sure it’s this.  And goddamit, Gary, stop avoiding the question!”

We were still in the pool, but over on the side, holding onto the edge.  Instead of responding, he did one of his incredible, gymnastic, trampoline-like up-and-out-of-the-pool lurches, then reached his hand down to me.  I took it, and he pulled me up onto the deck next to him.  He walked to where he’d laid the towels, on one of the chaise lounges that were scattered on the covered patio, and dried himself off.  I joined him, toweling myself dry as well, but only delicately dabbing at my back the best I could.  When we were both done, he sat down.  I did too.