Shelter from the Storm
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a/n: if the child development stuff is wrong, I apologize. You'd think I could remember, but no.
Zoe is 25 1/2-26 months old.
There is a bonus second short at the end here, be sure you scroll down!
Chapter 47 - The Swimming Lesson
Ranger
Breakfast, a Saturday morning on Haywood Street. Cool grey day, not autumn but trying. I sipped my coffee and watched my 2 year old daughter feed herself oatmeal. Hmmm. Probably won't have a weight issue, she misses her mouth as often as she fills it. Her fat little dog Killer however is definitely showing the results of licking the floor clean too often and too enthusiastically.
Louis has fixed a booster seat so that Zoë can eat with me at the breakfast bar.
I peel an orange and set it in front of Zoë, in sections so she can eat it easily. She says, "So pretty, daddy!"
I smile at her then look up as my wife Stephanie walks into the kitchen, cell phone glued to her ear. ''Okay, okay...I'll meet you at Cluck in the Bucket in 15 minutes!" She disconnects and gives us little morning kisses. Tells me, "Lula swears she saw Mandy Everstone go into the laundromat with a huge trolley of washing. We've been hunting her for almost a month!"
''Yeah, I know."
Mandy wasn't the biggest felon on Vinnie's skip list but her bond fee would put a few grand in Steph's pocket and make her happy. Stephanie happy, I mean, not poor Mandy the chronic shoplifter...
Steph was talking, "...so can you take Zoë to Mommy-n-Me swimming this morning?"
"Yay!" yells Zoe. ''Yay, daddy!"
Stephanie and Zoë went every Saturday morning to the swim class at the local rec center. I had encouraged it: the center was almost brand-new and very upscale, clean, safe; Zoë got to use up some of her excess energy, and Steph got to meet normal young moms and then enjoy, well, participate in, the water exercise program for the mothers. The kids had supervised snack and story time, while the moms did a half hour of boot camp water aerobics.
Nowhere did it say I would have to attend.
But I can take one for team. How could I resist two pairs of big beseeching eyes. I nod calmly. ''No problem. Go get your skip, babe."
Quick hugs and she is gone.
...
The Brenda Mankusco Memorial Recreation Center was mad busy on a dull Saturday in late September. The place teamed with peewee hockey, seniors basketball, and swimming events. Plus a quilt show. I hesitated for just a second on our way to the unisex politically correct infants and babies locker room—yearned for just a flash for the ice rink and the brutal fast pace of an ice hockey game. I eyed Zoë and made a mental note. She could start hockey at age four...maybe?
She wore her swimsuit under her little tracksuit. No pink ruffled bikini here. It was a miniature infant sized Speedo just like the Olympic girls wore! Obviously this was serious business to my daughter. We put her clothes in a locker and I carefully corn-rowed and french braided her mop of curls. It was still too short at age two for a ponytail.
''Mommy just lets it loose,'' Zoë told me impatiently.
''This will be better, chica, your hair won't drown you.''
Giggle. ''It won't, silly!''
A mom nearby watched us and cooed, ''Oooh, that is so cute!"
I hustled Zoë off to the pool.
A brawny bouncer type rec manager greeted us. I showed our family leisure pass and he grinned. ''Hi, Zoë! Who's your date?''
''This is my daddy, Gerry!''
''Personal escort of the princess?'' he smirked.
"Yeah." We locked eyes, I wondered about his arrest sheet, and he backed off.
Tug at my hand. "Daddy! Look, Janet's waving. Janet is my teacher, daddy.''
An athletic twenty-something in a red Baywatch Babe lifeguard suit bounced up to us.
Zoë squealed. "Hi, Janet! This is my daddy!"
She smiled."Hi! Good morning! First time here, Mister, um, Manoso?"
''Yes.'' We shook hands. Her grip was too strong. Scary.
"You do know Zoë has to wear swimmies under her suit, don't you?"
"Swimmies?"
"Yeah, they're like a waterproof diaper/plastic panties thing. Disposable."
''Zoë doesn't wear diapers in the daytime." Just training pull-ups for sleeping, not that it was any of Janet's business. And I wasn't thrilled that I knew all this either.
"All kids under three wear swimmies, dad, that's the rule!" She leaned in and whispered, "Sometimes the cool water makes even the best trained little one, um, pee. We have to be careful for the health code and all."
''Daddydaddydaddy! My swimmies are in the swim bag!" Zoë tugged my hand.
"And you do know you have to go into the pool with your child? You have to be in the water at all times! Right, dad?" Janet called after us.
"Daddy! Hurry! The music is starting!"
Theme from Little Mermaid. I may shoot myself.
... ... ..
I am always prepared. I had an idea I might have to swim and had worn board shorts under my Saturday black sweats. I rolled my Glock up in my beach towel, we regrouped and back to the class we went.
We were late. I hate being late. I didn't think we'd been in the locker room that long. We went over to the glistening turquoise pool's edge.
Twenty mommies in the pool supporting twenty chubby toddlers.
''...And kick kick kick, three two one, three two one! Yes! Swing the tadpoles left right all around...c'mon, mommies, twirl! Oh. Omigod."
Twenty-one women twirled around, stopped dead in their tracks, and stared at my bare chest. I smiled at them and twenty-one women gasped. Nipples in thin swimsuits got hard. A few ladies dropped their kid and twirled their hair.
I put my gun on a bench with our towels and into the fray we went.
"Ladies! This is Zoë's daddy!" yelled Janet.
''Aaah.'' A lewd murmur from the group. Someone whispered, ''Stephanie's husband?!"
"Ladies, ladies! Kids, and uh, Dad!..." I hoped she didn't call me dad too often. I eyed my towel and my gun. "...and let's begin again. Kick kick kick kick! Big tadpoles put their faces in the water, who wants to show me how big they are?"
We held the kicking kids and waited. "How about you, Mr. Manoso, show us how big you are!" The crowd gasped. "Zoë, you too! Can you both show us!" Zoë obligingly stuck her face in the chlorine and kicked vigorously. I just stood there like an idiot.
''How big are you, Mr. Manoso?" murmured the mommy next to me. I quickly stuck my head under the water. Zoë and I made fish faces at each other underwater.
I seriously considered staying there, two feet under, where it was safe. But no. Zoë's eyes got big and we shot up for air.
''Well!'' said Baywatch Janet. ''Maybe you two are too advanced for this class!''
''Nooooo,'' wailed Zoë.
''Okay and now faces down, faces up, twirl twirl. Hey! Get that out of your mouth!" Janet grabbed something from a kid a few moms down. She stormed over to the edge of the pool, flicked something away. Mumbled, ''What cretin puts that in a pool, yuck!...oh, geez!" So much for the health code, I thought. She smiled bravely and turned back to us. "Paddle those tadpole hands, kids! Moms! Knees up, Knees up, one two, one two. Paddle! Breathe, paddle, breathe."
Sigh. The things we do for love.
I paddled and twirled like a trouper.
.
...
Monday morning 5 AM
"Yo, boss, how was your weekend?''
''I took Zoë swimming at the rec,'' I told Tank.
My best friend and backup man tried to hide a grin. "Musta made an impression."
''Yeah."
"Cool."
"Next week you can come and bring the twins."
''Uh...''
''That's an order, Tank.''
''Shit. Ten four, boss."
the end / scroll down [series tbc]
Chapter 48 - A Few Years Later [bonus outtake]
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Ranger and Zoë are again at the municipal pool. Zoë is now four.
"Daddy! I want water wings!''
''Water wings?''
''Yes! Look! Amanda has water wings.''
My daughter Zoë pointed at a child in the shallow end of the town pool. The chubby kid was about Zoë's age, 4?—and she had weird inflated plastic tubes wrapped around her chubby biceps.
''Her wings are PINK Daddy. Pink Little Mermaid wings. I must have them.''
''Water wings are for losers who can't swim, baby. Not for little beach girls. You'll look stupid on your surfboard with water wings.''
Stamp of flip-flopped foot.
''I do not care! Water wings! Now! Pink.''
''No.''
''Wah!''
''Crying isn't gonna help, chica.''
Wailing stops instantly. Shifty look on Zoë's face. ''Maybe Killy would look cute ...yes! Killy would look ever so cute in pink water wings! And he does not surf, so he won't mind being a loser.''
''Killer can swim just fine, Zoë. His fat belly makes him float.'' Killer is Zoe's chubby pug dog.
''Hunh! So not?''
''No.''
''Wah!''
The things I do for love...
the end, series tbc
be sure you watch the you tube links-they'll be on my profile page, they'll make you laugh!
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