I slung my books on the sofa in the den and trudged into the kitchen. The refrigerator looked bare. Mom hadn’t had time to grocery shop. I slapped a slice of turkey and two pieces of bread together, never mind the mayonnaise. Four bites and I tossed it in the trash. How could any of us eat? Our lives were so messed up. I sighed as I went back to the den and fished a token for the city bus out of my purse.
If only I could drive to see Sean. At least by now I knew the bus driver’s schedule by heart. I marched to the marker near the house as he slowed to a stop. Then I boarded the big, clumsy vehicle. In twenty minutes he reached the hospital parking area and let me out.
I entered, waved at the receptionist on the way to room 101, and hoped with all my heart Sean would be sitting up talking.
He lay still and lifeless.
Mom’s eyes looked misty. “Dr. Salis said Sean regained consciousness, but it must have been for only a moment. He still isn’t speaking or moving around.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye. “I suppose it’s progress. It just doesn’t seem like it.”
Dad sat in a chair pulled up close to Mom. He rubbed his hand across his face. “He looks and acts the same. He doesn’t answer when we speak to him.”
Sean’s head moved, didn’t it? A glint passed through his eyes, or was it my imagination? Rather than get Mom and Dad’s hopes up I kept the signs of consciousness to myself.
A nurse entered and turned Sean as I took a seat in the corner.
Meaningless, empty minutes ticked to the next hour on the clock. Where was my dynamic brother? Was he in that body somewhere? My head spun with memories of Sean throwing a football, flirting with Candy, and giving Mike a friendly jab on the arm. Tears welled up inside me. “Mom, I’m really tired. Do you mind if I go home now?”
“No, of course not, you look worn out. If you’re asleep when I come in, I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
Trying not to appear anxious to leave, I meandered across the floor. “OK.”
On the way down the sterile hall, which smelled of antiseptic and what I imagined to be death, once again I passed the chapel. The lights from inside hit the gray floor, casting a glow of hope from the holy room onto the sorrow beyond it, but so far my prayers hadn’t helped Sean.
Wait a minute. The day I prayed in there, it helped me. Going in might be good for Mom. She would’ve gone to church if it hadn’t been for Dad. With Sean’s health constantly on her mind she didn’t need another argument about worship service.
I marched to the receptionist’s desk in the lobby. “Would you please ring room 101?”
A lady with dark, curly hair said, “Sure.” Then she handed me the receiver. Mom picked up.
“Mom—”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. On my way out, I noticed the hospital chapel. Wanna go in with me?”
Silence hung in the air. “Yes.” Mom’s voice sounded emphatic.
“See ya there.”
The receptionist smiled as I handed the receiver to her. “Thank you.”
A few steps took me into the tiny sanctuary with the mahogany pew. Hues from the stained-glass cross blended into dim lighting.
Shoes clicked on the hardwood floor. Mom.
I directed my gaze away from the altar. “It’s so peaceful. I feel close to God in here.”
Mom joined me, took my hand, and squeezed it.
We bowed our heads, and I prayed without speaking the words.
Dear Lord, it’s me again. Please make Sean well. We need him so badly. If there’s anything I can do to make this easier for Sean, let me know how to do it. Give Your strength to Mom, Dad, and me. In Christ’s name I pray. Amen.
Mom hugged me when I opened my eyes. “This is where we need to be if we want Sean to heal. The doctors may not know why he isn’t talking, but God does. Thank you for reminding me to come.” She stood. “I need to go back now.”
We walked quietly out of the chapel, and Mom turned toward Sean’s room.
I ambled outside to wait at the bus stop in front of the hospital and tried to understand why God wasn’t answering my prayers.
The huge vehicle pulled up, and the driver opened the door. My heart heavy, I got on. The motor idled as I dropped a token in the box. Two girls sat in the first seat chattering and laughing, their world apparently happier than mine.
Emotionally unable to relate to them or anyone else, I sat in the back and read the ads around the top of the bus near the ceiling. A woman held up a tube of bright red lipstick in one of the posters. A kid drank a glass of orange juice in another. There was a little girl with a lemonade stand and a young boy riding a bicycle with a little dog beside the bike. Scenes from our lives designed to entice people to purchase worldly items, but they meant nothing to me. I just wanted Sean to get well and to find the drug dealers.
Before I knew it, the driver pulled up and stopped at the marker. There was no reason to hurry to a deserted, lonely house. I kicked at pebbles as I strolled down the street, passing brick, white-frame, and rock middle-class homes to reach our grassy yard.
The front door had remained locked all day as it had been ever since Sean had gone to the hospital. I opened it and entered. Inside the only sounds were the grandfather clock ticking and the refrigerator humming. For company I turned on the television. Boring.
Sorrow and isolation from everyone I knew filled every fiber of my being. How could I possibly swim tomorrow? If only Coach Lohrens hadn’t put me in the line-up, but why wouldn’t he? I was following a normal routine now.
Swim meets never could be normal without Sean. I turned off the television, went upstairs, fell on my bed and cried myself to sleep.
~*~
The alarm jarred me awake Saturday morning. The buzzing grated on my nerves until I knocked it over and shut it off. The meet started in an hour and a half. I bounded out of bed.
Usually Mom, Dad, and Sean hollered for me to hurry up, their voices floating up the steps like an out-of-sync choir. Nothing was the same.
I tugged on my suit, put on my jeans and shirt and detoured to the kitchen on the way out. I gulped down a bowl of cereal and proceeded outside. The hissing of the Mistville bus wafted through the yard as I locked the front door. Missing it was all I needed.
A sprint took me to the stop. The driver must have seen me coming and waited. He had his large hand on the lever to shut the door.
“Thank you.” I dropped a token in the metal box.
He smiled, showing a dimple in his right cheek. “You’re welcome.”
With the seats sparsely filled, I took one near the front and gazed out the window at the blue-tinted mountains. Within twenty minutes, I exited the bus and waved at the driver. I’d never paid much attention to him before, simply noticed his blue uniform. He was a nice man with friendly blue eyes and balding brown hair.
The short jaunt to the gym only took seven minutes. The clock in the lobby glared seven-forty at me as I flung open the door and darted into the locker room. Five minutes to hit the pool deck.
A piece of red construction paper with gold letters decorated my locker. “Go Margaret. Win Butterfly!” I slapped my forehead. My Spirit Partner.
With everything going on with Sean I’d forgotten to write her a note of encouragement. Who was my partner for this meet?
Yanking open the Velcro fastener on the front compartment of my bag, I threw out my goggles, an old black practice cap, and one white wool sock. I unzipped the main part of the satchel and tossed out my black towel, a Sharks T-shirt, and a comb.
Yes! A crumpled note lay on the bottom. Watermarks stained the letters written in ink, but I could read it if I squinted my eyes underneath the light by the window. Aww. Mary Ann Jones, a junior and one of my favorite teammates.
I pulled the message off my locker and dropped down on a wooden bench. On the clean part of the paper I wrote, “The Dolphins will say, ‘Watch out for Jones in freestyle.' Go Mary Ann.’”
Jumping up to tape my note on
her locker, I nearly stepped on my goggles. I sat down and stuffed the items I’d thrown out in my bag. With the satchel sitting on my lap, I propped my elbows on it and rested my head on my fists. How would I get through this meet without Sean? What if Sean never talked to me again? How would I get through life without him?
Tears threatened to fill my eyes as I sprang up and dashed to the pool deck. I blinked as I scanned the area. I was on time. Whew! And Mary Ann wasn’t here yet. She’d find her note.
I lined up behind lane one for warm-up as Coach Lohrens hollered “Go” for each swimmer, putting his usual hiccup at the end of the “O.”
On my cue I dove in and swam at a steady pace until the practice laps ended. Then I grabbed hold of the handles on the starting blocks. My gaze caught Mary Ann smiling at me as I hoisted myself out.
She walked over and gave me a hug as soon as I stood upright. “Margaret, thank you for the Spirit Note. I wasn’t expecting—” she stopped. “I’m glad you’re here to do butterfly.” She twisted the strap on her goggles. “I’m sorry about Sean. I hope he’ll be OK.”
“Thanks, Mary Ann.” A pain deeper than anyone could imagine separated me from my teammates and kept me from saying I was happy to be at the meet. In one tragic moment I’d become an outsider looking in, fallen into a pit of anguish, and embraced hatred. The smile I forced on my face would have to be enough. “My note’s cool too. Thanks.”
We sat on the bench behind the starting blocks. The electricity and energy at the meet soaked into my pores. The chlorine smell, people cheering, the sound of the starting whistle, and the sight of dripping wet bodies climbing out of the pool swirled in my head and made me dizzy with memories of swimming fun. My parents walked in and sat in the bleachers beside Emily. Mom waved and Dad grinned. Then Jimmy strolled in, plopped down by Emily, and gave me a thumbs up.
My mouth gaped as a warm feeling ran through me. Did Jimmy know some of the other swimmers, or did he come to watch me?
If my parents came to support me, they wanted me to enjoy the meet, and Dad wanted a win. My insides clenched with desire. He’d said he didn’t care whether or not I won my events, but I knew his competitive attitude all too well. Interrupting my thoughts, the announcer gave the score.
“Meriwether Sharks, fifty-nine, the Valley View Dolphins, fifty-nine.”
Tammy strolled over, her flip-flops flapping across the cement as she elbowed her way between two soaking wet Dolphins. “Maggie Butterfly, if you swim your best time we’ll probably win this event and pull ahead.” Her brown eyes searched my face as though she knew it was hard for me to be here. “We’re all pulling for you.” Encouragement rang in her voice.
Enthusiasm tingled over me, and I shivered. Could I swing the momentum to the Sharks? “Thanks, Tammy.”
I tapped my bare foot on the cement floor so fast my knee bounced up and down. The will to find a way to win must have been left somewhere inside me. If so, I needed it now. It was my turn.
My hands trembled as I pushed my hair underneath my black cap. On the starting block, I glanced at the bulky girls to my left and right. Squeezing their hands into fists, they let go, flexed their fingers, and repeated the motion. They rotated their shoulders then shook their arms like well-oiled swimming machines. Had they taken steroids? My imagination was on overtime.
I took my position, ready to dive. The whistle blew. I shot into the pool and pulled and kicked with all my might. Water splashed over me from the lane beside me and sent a craving to outswim my competitor surging through me. Push. Pull. Push harder going into the turn. I touched the wall, spun around, and sprinted, my heart pumping with longing, my body aching as I repeated the process and pushed to the finish. Fifty nine seconds.
My competitors came in only hundredths of seconds behind me, but I won. Satisfaction filled every fiber of my being.
The Meriwether Sharks waiting at my lane swarmed me, giving me hugs and high-fives.
Mom and Dad stood, clapping and grinning.
Jay strolled to me as he swished his black towel across his broad shoulders. “Margaret, great job in the hundred-yard butterfly.”
That meant a lot coming from a senior and the captain of the men’s team. “Thanks.” My heart fluttered with happiness. I couldn’t have stopped my big smile if I’d wanted to.
For the next hour and a half I screamed for my teammates to win in every race.
Jay lined up to swim the last leg of the boys’ final freestyle relay. He and his opponent dove in and raced side-by-side, stroke for stroke.
I hollered “Goooo, Jay,” so loud over and over. The words scratched my throat. Water splashed around him and his competitor like a fountain gone awry. Who was ahead? I couldn’t tell. I kept yelling and moved even closer to the edge of the pool. Jay’s fingertips touched the wall first.
“We won. We won. We won the meet.” I jumped up and down.
My teammates and I crowded around the lane where Jay climbed out of the pool. We high-fived and patted him on his back. Then, a hush fell over the pool.
“Valley View Dolphins Girls, 190; Meriwether Sharks Girls, 201. Valley View Dolphins Boys, 170; Meriwether Sharks Boys, 180.”
The score blasted over the PA system.
The Sharks formed a circle. Then Jay yelled out the nonsensical cheer we created to celebrate victory. “Icky La Boomba.” Everyone loudly echoed, “Icky La Boomba.” Jay cried out, “Icky Le Picky Wicky.” The rest of the team shouted, “Icky Le Picky Wicky”; then, “Huffle a Duffle Wuffle, Oka, Te-ah,” and “Icky La Boomba.” We all raised our hands. “Yea! Sharks!”
One by one, we dispersed. I strolled into the locker room repeating, “Icky Le Picky Wicky, Huffle a Duffle Wuffle,” under my breath and changed into my jeans. Maybe my teammates didn’t understand my pain, but they cared about me. I swung the door wide open and walked into the lobby.
Mom and Dad rushed over and hugged me tight.
“Great job, honey, we’re so proud of you.” For the first time since Sean had the stroke a sparkle flickered in Mom’s eyes.
Dad grinned and patted me on the back but made no comment. It seemed strange for him to keep silent about my time. He probably was thinking it could have been better. Change came slowly. Maybe someday he’d have what Coach Lohrens called “a healthy competitive spirit.”
“Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad, I’m glad you came. Where are you going now? Emily asked me to go out with her.”
Dad wrung his large hands. “Back to the hospital. You go ahead. Have fun with Emily.”
They left me with the word “hospital” pounding in my head, sadness sweeping over me.
Emily seemed to come out of nowhere and take me by the arm. “Come on, Margaret. You need to eat a lot after your big swim.” She giggled.
Her words and the sound of her laughter took my thoughts back to the meet as we left. The joy of accomplishment ran though my body like a river, and I glimpsed the life I’d once known by the time we arrived at The Grill. We meandered past the bicycle stand behind two guys. One of them opened the door for us.
“Thank you,” Emily and I said together.
Loud talk among the guys and girls seated at the red-topped tables and booths filled the front of the room, the smell of French fries and burgers wafting through the air. Some of the football players, probably jawing about their Saturday morning practice, sat in the middle of the restaurant. Alone in a booth next to them, Joe Garrett turned up a glass of milk, took several swallows, and set it down. His light blue T-shirt showed off his broad shoulders and bulging muscles. His medium length hair hung down on both sides of his face, nearly covering it. He nibbled a cheeseburger as Emily and I passed by and sank into the seat behind him.
I leaned forward. “Did you notice the size of my butterfly competitors from Valley View?”
“Oh yeah, they’d really been pumping some iron.” She knitted her eyebrows. “You don’t think they took steroids, do you?”
“It crossed my mind.” I couldn’t help but reme
mber Sean in that hospital bed. “No one would take that stuff if they knew what could happen.”
“Yeah, well, you won, no matter how big they were.”
What would I do without Emily? “Maybe their technique was bad.”
“That’s it, all size, no skill.” Emily leaned forward. “Sean would be so proud.”
“Yes, he would.” Sadness struck me like a lightning bolt then anger welled up inside.
Emily placed her small hand on the table. “You have to be hungry after your big morning.”
Jimmy strolled over to our booth. “Can I sit with you?”
My heart fluttered at the sight of him.
7
The booths and tables around me faded to the back of my mind, and I only saw Jimmy. He wore a light blue shirt that made his eyes sparkle and set off his snug, dark blue jeans. Before I knew it he sat in the seat beside me. “Great swim.”
Excitement danced on my nerve endings. “Thanks.”
Emily rolled her eyes. What was wrong with her?
“There’s Candy.” She swung her arm toward the middle of the room.
Candy stood beside a table of football players, flipping her long, curly blonde hair. The big, burly guys stopped chattering and stared at her, their eyes gone mushy.
Knowing Sean once dated her, I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew anything about steroids or the temple.
Ray strode over and brushed his red bangs off his forehead. “This afternoon we have a special, grilled chicken with French fries or salad and a roll for five ninety-five.”
Jimmy licked his lips. “Hmmm. That sounds good. I’ll have the special with fries.”
My mouth watered. “Me, too.”
“I’ll have the chicken, but with salad.” Emily smiled at Ray. “Sorry. I’m different.”
“That’s OK.” Ray wrote down the orders then walked away.
Brad Moritz, a linebacker who’d sprained his ankle in last night’s game limped toward his teammates. Before he took a seat, he passed by Candy and touched her shoulder.
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