Love from A to Z(30)

As I turned the corner of the gym complex, the pool greeted me through a long, windowed wall, with its cheerful kidney shape and reflected-blue water. There was one middle-aged man bobbing up and down, facing a curved corner in the shallow end, as well as a woman doing laps in a black swimsuit and white cap.

I watched her for a bit and nodded. This was more like it. This was real exercise.

I went back to the changing room near the entrance of the fitness center and fixed my hijab, already wrapped turban style for yoga, so that it sat even tighter on my head. I was wearing leggings and a big long-sleeve tee that went almost to my knees, so it would do for swimming. Though I might have to tie a knot in my shirt once I got in the pool to keep it from riding up.

I got this.

I was going to be so zen floating in the water. Maybe even do some breathing to my toes.

Yes. The bobbing guy wasn’t in the pool anymore, so it would be just me and the lap-swimming woman. Somehow the situation felt immensely more relaxing.

I wouldn’t be fighting with my shirt the entire time.

If only the windowed wall weren’t there, making it possible for guys to walk by and glance in, it would be utterly perfect.

I nodded at the woman in the pool as she took a rest to adjust her goggles, and she smiled and nodded back at me. Then she went back to her laps.

I put a toe in. The water temperature was perfect, so I dropped my entire self in and flipped onto my back.

Ah. Immediately my shoulders relaxed and my arms went limp as I stared at the diffused lights on the ceiling.

This, I thought, as I breathed down to my floating toes, I could do each and every day.

Every single day.

It was literally like worries were melting, disappearing into the water through those body pores of mine immersed in the pool. Before high school, I used to swim every weekday, and then it became only on vacations. And each vacation I’d make a resolution to bring the daily pool back into my life—until reality hit again via school and extracurricular life.

This was perfect.

I floated around and around, my eyes closed, water muffling my ears, feeling my way to zen, when someone nudged me. I opened my eyes to the white-capped woman by my side saying something.

After righting myself to tread water—where was I in the pool now, anyway?—I pulled on each of my ears to clear them and then turned to face her.

“Someone wants to talk to you!” she said loudly, indicating the windowed wall behind me.

Oh. It must be Auntie Nandy.

I looked, ready to smile and wave, but was greeted with a weird frozen tableau on the other side of the window. With a towel around his torso, the bobbing middle-aged man was staring at me, standing with his legs apart beside the fitness center attendant, the one who’d signed Auntie Nandy and me into the facility, who now had his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

He pointed at me and then tucked his index finger in so he was holding a thumb up, which he then pulled back in a swift motion.

“He’s telling you to get out of the pool?” The woman beside me looked as perplexed as I felt. “It seems like he’s saying You. Out. Now.”

I pointed at myself and tilted my head at the two men. Me?

Both the attendant and the bobbing man nodded, their frowns deepening.

“I thought it was strange when he just got out of the hot tub and marched out of here,” the woman said, so low that it seemed to be almost to herself.

“Who?” I swam to the edge, worry prickling my previously relaxed limbs.

“Him. He’d been in the pool with me before you came and then moved on to the hot tub.” She swam alongside me and watched as I hoisted myself up, being careful to secure my turban. “Then, when you arrived, he waited a bit and then stalked off. I wonder what that’s about.”

I stood up, dripping, wringing all the water I could from my shirt. “You mean he was in here the whole time?”

I thought he’d left!

I glanced around and noticed the hot tub tucked in a corner, kind of hidden by a row of short palm trees. Right.

I waved at the helpful woman and went to see what was up.

? ? ?

It was all about me not wearing the proper swim attire.

I listened as the fitness attendant lectured me on the pool’s needs.

The pool, apparently, needed me to show my legs and arms. Caps were okay, so my turban was not a big deal, from what I surmised.

Bobbing man clutched the towel around his waist and kept bobbing his head as the attendant informed me that what I was wearing wasn’t proper swimwear. If I wanted, I could buy proper swimwear at their gym shop, but they had limited choices, and I might have to go for a two-piece.

I nodded, my brain trying to work out what the exact swim-clothing rules were according to the attendant’s long spiel.

“So someone’s allowed to wear shorts like his?” I asked, pointing at the tips of the floral shorts showing under bobbing man’s towel. Wet and hitched below his belly, they reached beyond his knees.

“That’s his swimwear, yes. But you see how she’s dressed?” the fitness attendant said, indicating the woman in the pool. “That’s how our female swimmers dress at this facility.”

“Say a woman came in shorts like his, loose, flowy, flowery, fun shorts. Then would you guys be okay with that?” I crossed my arms, my voice hardening. “Seems unfair if you wouldn’t be okay with that. If you’d say, Hey, you woman, show your thighs!”