Body Swap

by Sylvia McNicoll

  “We have to warn Ron,” she says.

  “Right! Do you think he’ll even listen?”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it? I just don’t know.” Susan frowns.

  A voice calls out, interrupting us. “Hey, thunder thighs!” Chael, of course. Alongside Hardeep, his legs look miles long. They head toward us from the men’s changing room. Susan hesitates for a moment. Then she strides over to him, her frown changing into a wonky grin. Whispers something into his ear. Chael’s skin flushes. She must be telling him something good. She leans back and I know she’s up to something. Everyone else seems to know it, too. The pool area gets so quiet you can hear a wave slap on the wall. Until the splash.

  CHAPTER 16

  Susan

  CHAEL’S EARS STICK OUT JUST like Ron Senior’s, my ex-husband, so I find myself more irritated by him than I should be, young and handsome as he is. His big grin is knowing and teasing all at the same time, and his laughing eyes make me feel like I’m part of one of his inside jokes. When Chael calls out that insult about my legs, it takes a moment for me to figure out what to do. Then I stroll toward him, flashing my best smile.

  May as well take advantage of Hallie’s beautiful teeth and lips.

  Chael’s ears will be sensitive; Ron Senior’s always were. If I blow air gently against one before I whisper into it, Chael will feel a light tickling sensation.

  I touch his shoulder and lean in; he leans in, too, anticipating … I sigh into my cupped hand at his ear. “My legs …”

  He smiles.

  “… are perfect the way they are!” I step back and lift my right leg, feeling the vigour of youth. Then I push my heel up and connect with his derriere, kicking him into the pool.

  Emerging from the water, sputtering, he curses. “What’s the matter with you?”

  I don’t dignify that question with a response. Instead, I shake my finger at him. “Don’t you ever comment on my body again!”

  Hallie just stands there, covering her gaping mouth with her hand. I wink at her.

  I know I’m supposed to win this young man over for her, but I remember, too often, letting Ron Senior get away with little put-downs over the short while we were together. It didn’t help. Keeping quiet and taking insults seemed to goad him into more. Maybe what he really wanted was more reaction from me. But I was busy with my two babies at the time. I didn’t have time for one more big baby.

  Hardeep smiles at me. Perhaps he’s not as confident as Chael, but he has long eyelashes that curl up and around. Eyes that glow warm. “You look … um … nice today. Different somehow.”

  Chael climbs out of the pool, still with an angry glow. “Hey! Kick him into the pool, too. He’s commenting on your body.”

  I lean toward Hardeep and place my hands on his young chest, pretending to go along with Chael’s demand. I can feel his heart beating quicker. It’s been so long since I’ve had this power over a young man. I give him a gentle push, and he laughs, taking a couple of steps back toward the pool. Then he just jumps sideways. Falling for me. Showing off for me.

  I laugh, too. Flirting, such fun! Something I also haven’t done for a long time.

  When I turn to Chael, I notice a change in him, something subtle. His mouth straightens and his eyes darken.

  Hallie walks over to me. “Should we work on our project after swimming’s done?”

  “What about the people you drove here?” I know Margret never likes any changes in her plans.

  “They will have to wait. Linda already has a good book to read.”

  She’s right, to heck with Margret. “Meet you in the library, then.”

  “Snack time for me. Second pass at the buffet! Ta-ta.” Hallie gives me a wave.

  The potluck, of course. I’d forgotten. I’m dying to join her. Wrong word; dying, that is. The camaraderie at these events actually makes me feel more alive, like we’re all growing old together, like it’s one big party. Barring that accident in the parking lot yesterday, I would have brought my specialty: Confetti Salad, made with orzo, various colours of peppers, and goat cheese. Will Gordon bring his spinach salad? I love the dressing he makes. If I live my life as Hallie from here on in, I will only date men who can make a good salad. I should ask Chael if he can cook; at the very least, he should be good with greens, named after a vegetable as he is.

  As more young people drift into the pool area, the music is turned up louder. “Don’t you dare step on my blue suede shoes.” The Elvis hit seems to summon blue-haired Abby. Angel eyes grins a hello at me. “Cannonball anyone?” she asks and heads for the diving board.

  Well, why not? I think and rush after her. The pool area echoes with laughter, yelling, and splashing that sounds like shattering glass. I love the power I feel as I leap off the board, bending my knees tight to my body. When I crash in, I send water all over Chael and Hardeep as well as the other teens in the pool.

  The waterslide opens and I find I can climb up those stairs like nobody’s business. I fly down, round and round. Whee! Splash!

  I can’t help smiling. I did not have this much fun at the pool last time I was this age. Youth really is wasted on the young.

  When the next song begins, we all jump into the pool and dance. I twist to Chubby Checker, pony to the Beatles, and do the swim to Bobbie Freeman — all dances from my sock hop day, but so deliciously retro for these kids that they point at me and call “Cool!”

  As “Love Me Tender” plays, Chael approaches to dance close with me in the water. No Kendra in sight. One person I did not invite. I try to keep some water space between us, but he draws closer.

  I don’t pull away. Hallie wants this boy and I want to give her back something for the loan of this lovely body — besides expensive cellphones and lunches and wild rides in my Hurricane, that is.

  His hands reach for me and then take hold of my chin. For a moment he just smiles as his eyes lock onto mine.

  If only he knew how old I really was.

  Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in. Closer, closer, finally our lips touch, oh so softly. A whisper of velvet. Surprisingly, I find mine tingle.

  As his lips linger, my face and body warm to an intense heat. I’m waiting for his lips to part. My own mouth loosens. The cool water surrounding us multiplies the tingling and the heat.

  But then he pulls away.

  And my body collapses in a sigh. This is all too wonderful.

  Inside, I always felt like a teenager despite the way my body betrayed me.

  But now it is glorious to look as young as I feel. Chael may be a boor but he’s a good kisser.

  After the 60s Swing and Swim ends, I change back into my street clothes and step out into the hallway. Abby needs to head home to babysit her kid sister, but Chael and Hardeep wait.

  Hallie, in her eighty-two-year-old skin, waves to me from the other end, near the library.

  I wave back and walk toward her.

  “What’s up with the old lady? Do you know her?” Chael asks as he and Hardeep tag alongside me.

  “She’s my grandmother,” I answer.

  “Yeah, sure. Wrong colour.”

  “Don’t be an ignoramus!” I dig my fists into my hips. “Susan MacMillan is my adoptive grandmother for an empathy project. I’m going to get my volunteer hours helping her with technology. Come and meet her.”

  “That’s okay. I have to floss my teeth. Let’s go, Hardeep.”

  Ignoramus and a boor!

  “You go ahead. My teeth are good.” Hardeep smiles slowly, and they are … beautiful, nothing green stuck between them. “I want to meet Mrs. MacMillan.”

  “She might have friends who need help with their technology, too,” I say, hoping to get Chael to stay, if only for the school credit. “You could put your volunteer hours in, too.” I want Hallie to see him as he truly is. If she still likes him afterwards, then it will be her loss.

  “Thanks anyway,” he answers. As it turns out, he doesn’t make his exit quick enough.

&n
bsp; Hallie draws closer and I can see the way she’s looking at him, like a hopeful puppy. In her current state — more like a hopeful old dog. I try to signal her with lifted eyebrows not to do that. She needs to remember what age her body is.

  “Hi, Mrs. MacMillan. These are my friends Hardeep and Chael.” I gesture toward them, and Hardeep holds out his hand and shakes hers.

  Chael gives a wave and says, “Pleased to meet you and all that. But I gotta head off.”

  Hallie’s mouth droops, but her eyes still follow him.

  “I hear you and Hallie are working on a project together,” Hardeep says cheerfully.

  “Yes, and I want to show Mrs. MacMillan something on her El-Q. Do you have it here?” I ask.

  “Yes, right in my purse.” Hallie takes the device out.

  Hardeep immediately leans over. “An El-Q! Cool! May I see it, Mrs. MacMillan?”

  Hallie offers it to him and he takes it from her hand. “Wow. I wish my grandmother would get one of these. She won’t go near a computer.”

  I feel myself blushing. I used to be that grandmother.

  “Snail mail takes forever to India. It’s like I don’t even have grandparents. Does it take good photos?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Try it.”

  “Okay. Squeeze in close for the selfie!” He holds up the device, his cheek touching my young face on one side and Hallie’s wrinkled one on the other — it feels as though we are all magically linked together in this moment.

  Click!

  A perfect shot, all three of us captured looking happy. Even Hallie, in her eighty-two-year-old body, smiles.

  He hands me back the phone. “I’ve heard it has a built-in stabilizer. Someone posted a video taken on a roller coaster ride and the image was crystal sharp.”

  A roller coaster. I catch Hallie’s eye. “I want to show you the Saji Happy Motoring message board. Why don’t we sit down?” We look around and find a table and chairs set up in front of the pool window. Everyone takes a seat. I continue. “A guy posted on the message board about sticking gas pedals. The same trouble you said you were having.” The last sentence is for Hardeep’s sake. He watches as I fumble to search for the site.

  “Just go to your history,” Hardeep suggests. He points to the button on the top line of my screen and I click.

  I key in my username and password quickly. All my years of court stenography help — typing hasn’t changed. Then I check the page. “Oh my! Even more people have posted.” There’s a Songbird, a Dogwalker, and an Applegirl all claiming to have issues. “Oh no! Applegirl had problems even after the throat plate was cleaned!” I turn my El-Q over to Hallie.

  Hallie reads the messages on the El-Q.

  Hardeep reads aloud from Hallie’s side. “Applegirl thinks the gas pedal sticks if you hit the brakes hard and then step on the pedal.”

  I read over Hallie’s other shoulder. Dogwalker also owns a Blizzard just like Ron. I look at Hallie. “Can you warn your son?” I can’t help the emphasis I put on the last two words. My desperation. My son, help my son, save him.

  “You know what he’ll say. He knows how to drive,” Hallie answers.

  “Still. We have to at least try. Give him the opportunity to prepare. That little extra chance.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Hallie

  WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD. I WANT to warn Susan’s son Ron that his Blizzard’s gas pedal may stick but I don’t know his phone number or have it in my contacts. Which I would if I were really Susan and not just a teen body snatcher. Fumbling for his contact info in front of Hardeep will look suspicious. Talking on a phone to this “son” I’ve only met once when we visited Sunnyside Terrace together will also be strange.

  So I reason out loud for Hardeep’s sake. “Um, I can’t call Ron at work. He might be in the courtroom. I’ll leave him a Facebook message. My Facebook account is new, too,” I say as I type his name into the search box. A thumbnail photo of Ron MacMillan shows up. I click on it and find his page.

  Immediately, I post a message to him, reading it out loud as I type: “Be careful with your gas pedal. A Blizzard owner had problems, too!”

  “But how will you know that he gets it?” Susan asks.

  I try to signal her with my eyes. Hardeep may think “Hallie” is a little too interested in a senior’s business. I add, “Call me when you get this message,” and give him the El-Q number.

  Susan frowns but I can’t think of what else to do to make her happy.

  One of the lifeguards comes to our rescue now. “Hey, if you guys are hungry, there’s a ton of food left over from the senior’s potluck.”

  Susan and Hardeep look at each other. What kind of look is that? Her mood changed pretty quick. She’s smiling. What? She can’t possibly like him. She’s way too old for him, at least on the inside.

  Susan answers the lifeguard. “I’m starving.”

  She must have my appetite now. I’m not even worried that she’ll overeat and make me gain weight anymore. Eli, if you just give me my body back in time for Christmas, I promise I’ll never complain about my thunder thighs again.

  “How ’bout you, Hardeep?” I ask. Back in my regular fifteen-year-old body, I know I wouldn’t have wanted to hang around with any seniors. Just yesterday, on that bus ride to the mall, I hated being stuffed in there with all the old people. Eli especially.

  “Free food. I’m in!” Hardeep answers.

  The lifeguard points down the hall. “Just around the corner over in the party room. Tell everyone I sent you.”

  While I need to be alone with Susan at some point, it’s nice to hang with one of my friends, even if it is only Hardeep.

  “I’ll take them over, if you like,” I volunteer. Susan and I need to get to know each other better to cope with this switch.

  “That would be great,” the lifeguard answers.

  Of course, I’ve left crabby old Margret in the glum, windowless party room, sitting and waiting. From an old boom box propped in the corner, an Elvis sound-alike croons, “Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer.”

  By now, the banquet table groans with bowls of pasta, potato, and green salads, a creamy pink gelatin fish, a plate of cheese and crackers, grapes, strawberries, pickles, olives, and little round white onions. Another table has been added for the brownies, Nanaimo bars, and assorted shortbreads. Two large metal coffee machines sit there, one labelled apple cider. Too much food, as that lifeguard said.

  Still, Margret jumps up and complains. “You young people didn’t bring anything to this buffet, why should you be able to eat from it?”

  “The staff invited us,” Susan answers with my teen voice. “They didn’t want the food to go to waste.” She reaches out to shake Margret’s hand, which confuses Margret for a moment. “Nice to meet you. Susan’s told us so much about you.”

  That leaves Margret sputtering. It would be hard to think of anything nice to say about her.

  “That goes for me as well, Mrs. …?” Hardeep tilts his head and smiles.

  “Kramer,” Margret answers. She then makes an abrupt switch and turns almost nice. “You’ll want to try Gordon’s spinach salad. It’s the bomb.”

  The bomb? Really? I lean toward Susan and talk softly into her ear. “Can I eat shortbread? Margret said it was bad for your gall bladder.”

  “Of course. She just likes to stuff them all in her face,” Susan whispers back.

  So I grab a cup of warm apple cider and pile a small plate with shortbread.

  Susan fills her plate with spinach salad, some squares of orange cheese, a few slices of ham, and about five tablespoons of something white and orange. “Ambrosia,” she tells Hardeep. “They glue marshmallows and mandarins together with mayonnaise.”

  “Vegetarian, though, right?”

  She nods. “And surprisingly tasty.”

  He takes some.

  The jolly Santa senior brings in some more kids who we don’t know, and they grab some red paper plates and start serving themselves.


  “Great salad, Gord,” Susan calls out, forgetting herself. If she’s me, there’s no way she would know this dude’s name.

  “Show some respect,” Margret hisses and gives her the instant stink eye. “You don’t address your elders by their first name.”

  Meanwhile, Gord plays air guitar as he skips around the table to the “Jingle Bell Hop.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know your last name,” Susan recovers as he pauses near us for a moment. “My adoptive grandmother told me your salad is the best. And it is.”

  “Never mind.” He smiles and pats the left side of his chest. “A young girl calling my name makes my heart skip a beat.” He points to the metal bowl. “Candied pecans, that’s the trick.”

  He’s a sweet old guy and he reminds me of my Uncle Bill. He joins us at the table on the metal chair next to me, and we end up showing him as well as Margret how to use El-Q Hangout by contacting Susan’s granddaughter Leah in B.C.

  Susan squeals when Leah appears on the screen and I elbow her to warn her about blowing our cover. I have to pretend to be her, after all, to match the body I’m in.

  “Hello, hello, Leah! We’ve heard so much about you,” Gord calls and waves. Then he excuses himself, pulling Margret away with him to get coffee.

  Hardeep stands. “Do you want to come with me to get some more shortbread?”

  He’s wanting Susan to leave with him to give me privacy with Leah, my supposed granddaughter.

  “That’s all right,” I tell them. “Hallie better stay in case I press a wrong button.”

  “Bye, Leah!” He waves and leaves.

  Susan leans over immediately and whispers in my ear. “Ask Leah if she liked the scarf and hat that I bought her. I never got a thank-you note.”

  Instead, I tell her, “Leah, I have a new Gmail account. I’ll send you the address. I’m also on Facebook now.”

  Susan nudges me, all the while waving at the screen.

  “Hang on,” I grumble under my breath. “I’m getting to it.” Facing the screen again, I introduce her. “This is my friend Hallie. She’s teaching me all about the El-Q I bought.” Then finally, “By the way, did you like the scarf and hat I sent you?”