At the top, don’t look down! Don’t look down! No matter how many times you say it; you still end up looking don’t you? I did… oh god! I could see the glistening blue glass beneath me, just waiting to be broken. Deep breath… One… two… three… running… running… runn… flying! SPLASH! Ripples form around me. I can’t see them yet. I haven’t come up for air.
Better head to the surface, I need to inhale. I can’t inhale here! But I can’t head to the surface! What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I head towards the top? I see light above, I just have to kick my feet… why can’t I kick my feet? I’m so scared. I can’t hold my breath for another second. Where’s that girl? Shouldn’t she be helping me? She knows I’m here! She stares at me everyday!
The stained blue glass cuts into my lungs. A shooting pain!
. . .
He’s back… I wonder what his name is… what his story is… why everyday he comes here and climbs, never quite reaching the top, but getting slightly higher each visit. Every shift I watch him. He’s one of the people who make this job interesting. In fact, he’s one of the only people who show up here at this time anymore. Other people must be too busy. I wish I could bring myself to talk to him. My shyness cripples me.
He’s beginning his dance. He tip toes across the deck, drops his bright red towel on one of the many plastic chairs, and proceeds to make his way towards his spot. How cold is the water today? I’m sure he asks himself as he dips his toe into the blue. What does it matter anyway? He won’t be going in. He never does. Oh, no emotion on his face. Guess the temperature didn’t shock him today.
Finally, he reaches the ladder. He looks up, mumbles something under his breath and takes a deep breath. I don’t have a clue what he said; I’m much too far away to hear. Up he goes, up and up and up. So slowly! Boring to watch, yet I can’t seem to peel my eyes away from him.
Is he almost at the top? Oh My God! He is! Am I about to see him finally take the plunge? I think I just might! I shouldn’t get my hopes up though; he probably won’t do it…
He pauses again… he’s not going to do it, another deep breath. How frustrating it is that he never just does it! Why do I even bother concerning myself with him? I mean… No way! He’s on his way to the top!!! Up and up and up! He’s there! He’s at the top! Another pause… god! Get on with it already!
“Janet?” Ug! It’s my boss! Always at the most inconvenient times!
“Yes Rich?” I reply, turning to face the direction of his voice, taking my eyes off the diver for a split second.
SPLASH!
I missed it…
. . .
“Honey, where are you going?” I yelled out to him.
“Just to the pool, for a short swim babe, I won’t be long.”
“But…” I tried to think of a reason for him to stay, “Dinner is almost ready!” He kept leaving like this. Going to the pool, going to the pool. That’s all he ever did now! When he comes home his suit is never wet, his hair never changed from how it was when he left.
“Ill just be a little while Laura, just a quick swim! Don’t worry so much!” Oh I was going to worry, I was worried, I had worried.
“Just a little while? Is that how long it takes?”
“Yah. A quick swim, I’ll be right home.”
“Fine… go… enjoy yourself then” I managed to say, trying to hide the distress in my voice.
“I love you.” He said, staring me in the eyes, probably waiting for a response. Who was the other person he said that to every afternoon? Why did he think I would believe his sad tale about going to the pool each and everyday? I looked him directly in the eye, trying to read his cheating mind. Then I turned, as my eyes stained with tears, and walked back into the house. I heard his truck pull away.
Was this the reason eighteen year olds were not suppose to marry? Was this the problem mom hinted at when she advised me to re-think the wedding? I didn’t listen. We were in love. We are in love! Yet everyday at the same time, he leaves me. Always with an “I love you” and a smile on his handsome face. Everyday I say goodbye to him. I send him off to her, whoever she is.
He’s not going to the pool. I know that, he knows that. Maybe tomorrow I will follow him.
. . .
“Mommy?” Ivy tiptoed into my room.
“Yes?”
“I had a bad dream.” I thought she stopped having these dreams a few years back.
“What was it about baby?”
“Swimming.”
My throat tightens, why am I being punished this way? I feel as if I am going to ball. They said this was going to get easier. They said I just needed time. But that was eight years ago, plenty of time has passed, I’m no better then I was the day it happened.
“Oh?” I managed to say, “What happened in the dream?”
“I jumped in the water, and I sunk.”
“Oh…”
“Can I sleep with you tonight mommy?”
“You’re getting too old for that Ivy.”
“Please? Just for tonight?”
“Ivy! You’re almost 8 years old! Much too old to sleep in the same bed as mommy!” I said, not trying to be cruel, I just needed time alone now; night was my time to think.
“Please!” Tears welled up in my daughter’s blue eyes. I have never told her what happened to her dad, but somehow, I think she knows.
“Fine get in then,” I surrendered.
. . .
With profound sadness, the family of Michael William Clerk, age 21, announces his passing on October 20, 2000, as the result of a tragic accident. Beloved Husband of Laura Clerk, son of William and Margaret Clerk, brother of Beth and Joseph O’Donald, Edward and Maria Clerk, and Samantha Clerk, uncle of Rebecca, James, and Lilly O’Donald, and Jacob Clerk. Visitation will be held, Monday October 23 at Jacobson Funeral Home in Williamston, 572 Main St., from 12:00pm to 5:00pm. Funeral will be Tuesday 10:30 am.
A tree will be planted in Hans Elliot Park as a living memorial of Michael.
I read this obituary for what must be the thousandth time. Mom has never told me the story of how my dad died.
Mom doesn’t think I should know about my dad. But I already know. I saw the story of his death in a box in her closet. I talked to Uncle Eddie about it. I know he drowned before he even knew mom was expecting me. I wish Mom and I could talk about it. I wish dad was here. I wish after all these years my mom wasn’t still so sad.
Love Always
SmartyPants xo
2 comments:
its good writing, you are an artist,be an artist.
thank you daddy, i am glad that you follow my blogs, even though you think they are a bit silly but well written :P
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