The Dry Grass of August(46)
“This one’s mine.” Stell sat on one of the beds. “You and Puddin can have the other one.”
Ever since we left Charlotte, Stell had made it known that she wasn’t sleeping with Puddin. Maybe because they shared a bedroom at home and Stell wanted a break from her.
Mama came to our cabin to check it out. She looked into the bathroom. “Mary, help yourself to the toilet and the shower. I’m sure the girls don’t mind. If that Sally woman says anything, send her to me.”
Mary nodded.
Mrs. Bishop knocked at the door. “Phone, Mrs. Watts. I believe it’s your husband.” I hoped she hadn’t heard what Mama said to Mary.
Mama’s mouth twisted. “Y’all get settled while I talk with your father.”
CHAPTER 18
I found the swimming pool through the trees behind the motel cabins. It was small, with chairs and lounges crowding the concrete apron. The piddling diving board had almost no spring and was barely high enough to dive from. I stretched out on it in my bathing suit, rubbing my shoulder blades against the torn hemp runner. Traffic on the boulevard swooshed faintly in the background. A car door slammed shut, and somebody shouted,“See you!” I scratched my back on the ragged hemp, stared at the cloudless sky, and thought about Leesum. If he was as good a diver as he was a swimmer, he’d know what a stupid board this was.
The boards Daddy had built for Charlotte Municipal Swimming Pool were for real divers, like Daddy might have been if he’d had coaching. He could still do a jackknife.
The City of Charlotte had held a dedication for the new boards last Memorial Day weekend, when Municipal Pool opened for the summer. We’d been running late and Mama drove fast, but the parking lot was jammed when we got there. She pulled in behind Daddy’s car, laughing. “I’ve got him hemmed in.”
People were sitting on portable bleachers around the pool, the mayor, friends from the country club, men from Watts Concrete Fabrications. Daddy stood near the high dive, in his blue seersucker suit, wearing a straw fedora with a stained band. He said something to Uncle Stamos, who seemed to fade into the background the way he always did when the two of them were together.
Stell and I sat on one side of Mama, Puddin on the other. Davie kept twisting in Mama’s lap. She snapped at him to be still, then glanced around to see if anyone had heard her. She smiled at the mayor’s brother, who we knew from the club.
The air smelled of chlorine, cigarettes, and suntan oil. The pool was turquoise glass under the hot sun and I wanted to jump into it, make waves and shout. The still blue water needed breaking up.
“Testing, one, two, three, four” came from the loudspeakers. The squeal of feedback brought a groan from the crowd. “Turn it down, Pete,” a man hollered. Stell Ann raised her eyebrows, put her hand over her mouth, muffling a snicker. Puddin looked bored.
The mayor spoke into the mike. “Good afternoon! I’m happy to have y’all here. Hope you brought your suits!” Everybody laughed as though he’d said something really funny.
“We need this great facility for our young athletes. Can’t expect them to train without first-class equipment. Charlotte is now the largest city in the Carolinas, and we have every hope of being represented in the Olympic Games before too long.” There was scattered applause among the crowd. “First order of business is entertainment. Let’s hear it for the Myers Park High School Marching Band!”
A drum cadence started. The gates swung open in the chain-link fence surrounding the pool, and the head majorette high-stepped through. The crowd laughed as the band marched in wearing plumed hats, boots, and bathing suits. They halted and marched in place on the pool deck. The cadence changed to a repeated slow beat on the snare drums. A flute played the refrain from “Dixie.” The crowd rose to its feet and sang. I got chill bumps singing about old times that were not forgotten. At the end of the chorus, people started to sit back down, but one of the majorettes stepped up to the mike and sang a verse I’d never heard:
Ole Missus marry Will the weaver.
Willum was a gay deceiver.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land!
But if she want to drive ’way sorrow,
She can sing this song tomorrow.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land!
Her voice hung in the air. Then everyone sang the chorus again, more fiercely than before. After the band marched out and the drum cadence faded, the mayor said, “I’m going to turn the mike over to the man who made all this possible. William Watts is president of Watts Concrete Fabrications, the company that built these fine diving boards. A proud husband and father of four, he has his family here with him today.” The mayor tipped his hat to us, then continued. “Two of the Watts girls are already great competitive swimmers, and Bill is often seen at their meets.” Stell touched my arm. I kept my eyes down, wondering if I should look up.The mayor went on. “The Watts family are active members of Selwyn Avenue Methodist Church and Myers Park Country Club, where Bill is on the board of directors, and where he recently achieved elite status by shooting a hole in one on the back nine. Let’s have a hand for William Watts!”
The crowd applauded. Daddy handed his glasses to Uncle Stamos and walked to the base of the diving boards.
“Why’s he wearing that old hat?” I asked Mama.