Learning to Swim(11)

“Emily Mills?” I asked. “The birthday girl?”

A quick shadow passed over her face. A slight pang of guilt. But apparently not overwhelming enough to inspire a confession.

“That's right,” she said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek (obviously so discombobulated that she had already forgotten she had just given me a big hug). “Call me on my cell if you need anything.”

I probably could've blurted out my intent to take a swimming lesson before she slammed the door. In retrospect, I also could've called her on her cell and told her. But instead, I kept mum. The pendulum had once again swung back, and as far as I was concerned, she didn't deserve my honesty. My conscience would just have to deal. In any case, I really didn't have time to dwell. I needed a new bathing suit. And fast.

Alice and I decided that with less than three hours to spare, the Parkfield Outlet Center was our best bet. Alice wasted no time in speeding over to get me in her giant green Cadillac. Alice was so tiny and the car was so big that she practically had to reach up just to hold the steering wheel. Her husband had bought it used back in 1988, which meant that it had been on this earth even longer than me. Because it was from Roland, it was (as Alice had said) sentimental transportation. But there was nothing sentimental about the way Alice drove, which can only be described as maniacal.

After several near crashes and a lot of obscenities, we reached our destination and began rummaging through the racks. I found a couple of bikinis for fifty percent off the sales price and headed into the dressing room with Alice to try them on.

“What do you think?” I asked Alice after trying on the first suit. It was no BCBG, but at least it had a tropical floral pattern and was butt slimming. It also, in my uneducated opinion, seemed to possess the necessary qualities of sexy but not too sexy and cute but not too cute. The only problem was the flip-flops. Alice had fixed them by wrapping duct tape around the toe thingy and under the shoe itself. Although they were still (by far) the most comfortable pair of shoes I had ever owned, I must say the duct tape screamed “I am proud white trash.”

“Take your hands away from your stomach,” she said as I kicked off my flip-flops. “And stand up straight.”

This was one of the drawbacks of having a best friend who was old enough to be my grandmother. She asked me things like “Did you eat a good dinner?” And reminded me to do stuff like “Stand up straight.” Things that a best friend my own age would never have mentioned, probably because she would have been too busy slouching and not eating dinner.

“I'll tell you what,” Alice said. “One look at you in that suit, and he's going to fall madly in love with you.”

“Oh, Alice,” I said with a little wave, as if that was the furthest thing from my mind.

“Steffie, it's time you realized how beautiful you are. You were always pretty, but in the past two weeks, everything has miraculously come together. Your eyes, your hair. Everything has caught up with your nose. And you're definitely losing weight around your thigh region. One look at you in that suit, and he's going to forget all about Mora.”

I appreciated the sweet yet kind-of-backhanded compliment and where Alice was trying to go with all that. But quite frankly, even if “everything” had “caught up with” my nose and I was starting to look more like a banana than a pear, I would never be all-American pretty like, well, Mora Cooper.

“Let's pay for your suit and go get some dinner,” Alice said. “You should eat something before your lesson.”


I stood still, looking at my bikini-clad reflection in the mirror. What if Alice was right? What if Keith took one look at me in my new bikini and fell madly, crazily in love?

I sucked in my stomach and stuck out my chest as the scene unfolded in my mind. I would walk into the pool area and strike a Miss USA pose in front of the floodlights. Keith, of course, wouldn't notice me at first. Suddenly he would become aware that he was not alone. Slowly… very slowly… he would turn, and then bang—he would see me. His eyes would fixate on mine and his mouth would fall agape. After considerable struggle, he would regain his composure and walk slowly toward me as he said, Stef… is that really you? I had no idea that you were so… so…

“How about the Pancake House?” Alice asked, stepping in front of the mirror, strategically blocking my view.

And just like that I was back in the dressing room, listening to my stomach rumble. “Sounds good,” I said.

After dinner, I put my new suit on under my clothes, and Alice drove me to the club. Even though I was doing my best to reassure myself that this whole swimming lessons thing was really no big deal, as soon as I stepped out of the car, I felt my pancake rise up and wedge itself in my esophagus.

At first glance, the pool looked completely empty. The sun had set only minutes earlier, and although it was dark, it was a hazy, soft darkness, still light enough to see clearly. It was still warm too, and the air felt kind of heavy and sticky at the same time.

Then suddenly, something occurred to me. What if Keith had forgotten? All this nervousness for nothing! It was almost laughable. And then Keith strode out of the lifeguard office in that confident yet humble way of his, and laughing was not even an option.

“I wasn't sure you'd show,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Oh. My. God. Gorgeous.