You May Already Be a Winner

by Ann Dee Ellis

  And I went: NO NO NO I AM NOT OKAY I AM NOT OKAY! I AM NOT DOING THIS I AM NOT DOING ANYTHING I AM DOING NOTHING.

  People stared at me. An old man with lots of hair took a step toward me and I realized I didn’t know what I was saying and Dad was red-faced and Berkeley was looking at the ground and I finally said I AM GOING TO SWIM LAPS IN THE COMPETITION POOL. I’LL SEE YOU IN AN HOUR. DON’T TALK TO ME EVER AGAIN.

  And then I twirled around fast, faster than I was expecting and felt a little sick, and then stomped off, out of the kid pool area, around the bend and then right into the competition pool without looking back.

  Bart was there.

  He was in the pool with five hundred fat ladies and an old man with a bald head. When he saw me he waved and that’s when I started bawling.

  ............

  Dear Mom,

  I tried Aqua Zumba today. I was the only one besides Bart, who is a boy I know, under fifty years old.

  Bart told me normally he would never do water aerobics because it’s for old people with fake hips but he had to because it’s a good workout and it helps him train for Tae Kwon Do, which is not just karate but an ancient burial art that they did to help defend themselves from enemies who were interested in disturbing their peace.

  He said he would avoid using the force in real life unless there was a genuine threat. He is a purple belt, which is two levels below black but he’s only that because his sensei said he should slow down because if you move too fast, you get a target on your back. I’m not sure what that means. It’s also required for the FBI apparently. They don’t let people know how cardiovascularly fit you can get doing water aerobics.

  I don’t know if you know this but he’s also going to run a hundred miles. I might do it with him.

  Dad went down the slides with Berkeley. They also did the rock-climbing wall in the deep end and Berkeley made him stand in the kiddie pool on the X so she could spray him with water.

  ~

  I stopped typing.

  I didn’t want Mom to think I liked Dad better than her. Or that he was doing a nicer job than she was because I made him do that. I made him get in and he was talking to that dumb-bum redhead.

  ~

  So I put.

  He is always on his phone and he doesn’t know the lyrics to any good songs like you do.

  Please come home soon. He is boring.

  Love, Olivia

  ............

  When I started bawling on the deck of the competition pool, Bart got out. He was really there and there really was Aqua Zumba and I really did start to sob.

  No one else noticed, thank you, not even the lifeguard who was a girl with a long face and her job is to save lives and I was about to die and she didn’t even look over, but he did.

  ~

  He got out and I almost went back to the locker room because I hate him and he said, “Olivia!” He said it loud but not too loud. I turned around and he was jogging up and dripping and he said, “What’s wrong?”

  And I should have said, “I’m mad at you,” but instead I said, “My butthead dad.”

  And he said, “Your dad is here?”

  And I said, “Yeah.”

  And he said, “Where?”

  And I pointed through the glass where Dad was standing there watching. He wasn’t coming after me. He was just standing there.

  “Is something wrong with him?” Bart said.

  “What?”

  “What’s wrong with him? He looks weird.”

  I looked at Dad. His stupid cool clothes. His hair sticking straight up with a gallon of gel. And his face all fake concerned. He did look weird.

  “Yes,” I said. “Something is very wrong with him.”

  Dad motioned for me to come back.

  I looked at Bart. “I hate him,” I said, wiping my nose.

  Bart said, “He was rude when I came over.”

  I said, “I know.”

  And he said, “But I thought you liked him. I thought he worked for the Parks Department and maybe the NSA.”

  I looked over again. Berk was dragging Dad back to the locker room, probably to make him put on his suit. He waved for me to come.

  Bart said, “What are you going to do?”

  I stared at Dad’s face.

  “Do you want me to go beat him up?” Bart asked, and I smiled.

  Then I looked at the ladies and one old guy jumping around in the pool.

  I looked at the blond middle-aged woman on the deck in Zumba clothes.

  I looked at the boom box or whatever they call those, blasting Cher.

  They looked ridiculous.

  And happy.

  And I said, “Can I do what you’re doing?”

  And he said, “Water Zumba?”

  I said, “Please.”

  And he said, “Are you serious?”

  I said, “Please.”

  And he said, “It can be dangerous.”

  I said, “I’ll risk it.”

  So that’s how I did my first Aqua Zumba class.

  Everyone seemed to know the music and Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson really was in the class and was pretty much the best. Twirling in the water, looking over her shoulder at just the right time. Clapping her hands to the beat.

  She waved at me and I waved back at her.

  No wonder she always closed her Antique Dolls and Collectibles shop at exactly eleven o’clock on the dot. She had to get to aerobics.

  But I was bad at it.

  When I was supposed to turn, I didn’t turn and when I wasn’t supposed to turn I did.

  I was off every single song.

  “It takes practice,” Bart said at one point, and I said, “I can’t believe how hard it is.”

  He said, “I know. Navy Seals do this to train.”

  I laughed.

  The only time I caught on was when they were cooling down with stretches.

  But one good thing: I laughed a lot. And for maybe five seconds I forgot about Dad. And Mom.

  Then afterward, when we got out of the pool, the instructor came up to us, sweat was dripping off her shoulders. She should have jumped in the pool.

  She had a weathered face, brown from the sun, bleached blond hair in a ponytail, and a tight tank top that showed the rolls on her stomach, which clearly she didn’t care if they showed.

  “Who’s your friend?” she said to Bart, handing him a towel.

  He seemed nervous all of a sudden.

  “She’s from school,” he said.

  The woman looked at me. “You’re from school?”

  “Uh,” I said. “Yeah?”

  She examined me, I don’t know why.

  “I’m glad he has a friend from school. Maybe he’ll stop ditching so much.” She bumped into Bart who blushed.

  Then she said, “What’s your name?”

  “Olivia.”

  “Hi, Olivia.”

  She stuck out her hand, “I’m Roxi.”

  “Hi, Roxi,” I said.

  She looked at Bart. Bart was rubbing his head with the towel, not looking at us.

  Then she said, “You should come over to the house sometime.”

  “Mom,” Bart said, “stop.”

  ~

  It was his mom.

  ~

  And she said, “I think you should marry my son.”

  And I said, “What?”

  And Bart said, “What?”

  And his mom said, “Don’t be silly. I can see the love between you two.”

  And I said, “No. We just met. We’re too young.”

  And I looked at Bart and even though I knew he thought it was crazy, too, I also saw that there was something in his eye. Something like a twinkle. Maybe it could last. Maybe we wouldn’t end up
in the trailer park with lots of trophies and no jobs and sad kids.

  ~

  And he said, “I do love you.”

  And I said, “You do?”

  And he said, “I’ll take care of you.”

  And I said, “I don’t need you to.”

  And he said, “You don’t?”

  And I said, “No.”

  And he said, “What do you need?”

  And I said, “A friend.”

  And he said, “I am your friend.”

  And his mom said, “Gary, come here.”

  And an enormous man with a tattoo of a bulldog on his belly came dripping over.

  “Will you marry these two?” she said.

  “Right now?” I gasped.

  “Right now,” Bart said.

  And his mom smiled. “Sometimes you just know.”

  So we were married. And everyone cheered and they threw cotton candy at us and Bart said, “We will live in Paris,” and I said, “We will?”

  And he said, “Yes. And Hamburg. And Istanbul. And Hong Kong. And we’ll never come back.”

  And I said, “What about Berk?”

  And he said, “Berk can come, too!”

  And then I said, “Yes! Let’s go to Mongolia!” And then I took his face and I kissed him soft and as romantic as I could and there were real fireworks and crying and it was the best day of my life.

  His mom laughed. Then she said, “Olivia, you should come to our house for dinner.”

  And even though it wasn’t marriage, which I didn’t want anyway, it was something.

  Bart said, “She can’t.”

  I said, “I can’t?”

  And he said, “Can you?”

  I said, “I think I can.”

  Then he said, “She might be able to.”

  And I said, “I can.”

  And he said, “Are you sure? What about your dad?”

  I said, “What about him?”

  And he said, “Would he let you?”

  I said, “I don’t know.”

  He said, “She probably can’t.”

  I said, “I probably can.”

  His mom folded her arms, smiling.

  Then he said, “You probably can?”

  I said, “Yes.”

  And his mom said, “It’s settled then. We grill at six.”

  Then someone walked up to her to ask her a question.

  Bart looked at me. “You don’t have to come.”

  He had no idea that inside I was jumping up and down. I was screaming. I was more excited than I had ever been in my whole life except for the time we went to Disney when I was six.

  I said, “I can come.”

  And he said, “She cooks bad food.”

  I said, “I don’t care.”

  And he said, “Okay.”

  And I said, “Okay.”

  I couldn’t read his face. Why didn’t he want me to come?

  He started to say something and I knew it was going to be that I couldn’t come because he didn’t like me. But instead he said, “I would never do Aqua Zumba in real life but it’s good for Tae Kwon Do.”

  His lips were smooth like he wore a Chapstick regularly which is a good idea. Plus, he had braces. I’d always wanted braces.

  Finally, he stopped talking and said, “I have to go.”

  I said, “What?”

  And then I realized that the pool area was almost empty except for a few lap swimmers, and his mom was waiting for him by the door.

  “Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

  And he said “Thanks?” Then he said, “I live at Nine Eleven North Elm Street.”

  Panic went all over my body.

  “Where?”

  “Nine-one-one North Elm.”

  I said it in my head 911 North Elm Street. 911 North Elm Street. 911 North Elm Street.

  I knew I was going to forget it. I could not forget it.

  Then he said, “Just remember, emergency Freddy Krueger.”

  And I said, “What?”

  And he said, “Never mind.”

  Then he said, “What are you going to do now?”

  I looked over at the play pools. Kids running around screaming. I looked at dumb-bum Dad. Ugh.

  “I’m going to swim a few laps,” I said.

  “You are?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I do it all the time. I like it over here.”

  He said, “That’s cool.”

  And I said, “Thank you.”

  And then he left. But not before his mom yelled, “See you tonight,” and I said, “See you tonight,” which sounded like I was copying her.

  And then I stood there.

  I got back in the pool and didn’t swim any laps. Instead I waited for five minutes on the clock.

  911 North Elm Street. 911 North Elm Street. 911 North Elm Street.

  Emergency. North Freddy Krueger.

  ~

  Then I got out and went to the kiddie pools where I belonged.

  Dad came into my room after we got home.

  He said, “I need to talk to you, Livy.”

  And I said, “I don’t need to talk to you.”

  I’d found him and Berkeley right away at the pool. They were on the pirate ship. Even Dad.

  I sat in the shallow pool and acted like Dad was no one. Berk would yell to show me something in the water and I’d watch and laugh but when Dad tried to get me to look at him, no way.

  He sprayed me with a huge cannon and I tried to act like I didn’t notice which wasn’t so easy if you want to know the truth.

  We went to McDonald’s after the pool, which was Mom’s place and I ordered a salad, which was a pretty low blow but I didn’t care. No way was I going to order something good and make him feel happy about himself.

  So now he was in my room. Berk outside playing and I was busy looking at the ceiling.

  “I know you’re upset.”

  The ceiling.

  “Olivia? Can we talk?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to live in an adobe house.

  He sat down on the bed and did a sigh, a big old sigh like his life was hard. Like talking to redheads and arguing on the phone and having fancy apartments in the city that was not Bryce Canyon with no room for kids was hard.

  “I’m sorry I left,” he said.

  I said, “Barf.”

  He said, “What?”

  And I said, “Barf.”

  He said, “Barf?”

  And I said, “Barf.”

  He did a face like I was so immature but I didn’t care. Then he said, “Your mother and I were having some problems. I was having problems.”

  I stuck my fingers in my ears.

  “Stop that,” I think he said, but I wasn’t sure because I couldn’t hear him. “Stop that right now,” he said, but again, I couldn’t be too sure.

  Then he reached over and yanked my fingers out of my ears.

  “That was rude,” I said.

  “Was it?” he said. “Was that rude?” he said, his voice rising.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was. Besides you already told me everything.”

  He sighed. Then he said, “No I didn’t. Here’s the thing. Your mother and I were so young when we got married.”

  I stuck my fingers in my ears again.

  He pulled them out again and kept talking. “I made some mistakes. I . . .” he stopped.

  “What mistakes,” I asked.

  He looked at me. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

  “Tell me now,” I said.

  He shook his stupid head. “You’re too young.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You ar
e,” he said, and I could feel the tears start to come. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know me at all.

  I said, “Did you get a girlfriend?”

  His face got really red then but I didn’t care. I didn’t. “Did something happen with Melody?” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Melody, from down the street.”

  He stopped talking for a minute. Then he said, “Did your mother say that?”

  “No. But Mom doesn’t like her.”

  He sighed. “One time I said Melody was pretty. That’s all. And your mother, she freaked out. You know how she can get.”

  I thought about that. I thought about Mom. My mom. Her hands. So cold. Always so cold. And her arms. And her face. And her wrinkles. And her hair pulled tight. And her back. Her back that had held her up while she wiped down walls and scrubbed people’s floors and vacuumed room after room after room.

  I thought about how Mom could get and I wanted to scream.

  Dad kept talking. “Like I was saying, we got married so young.”

  I felt sick. So sick I might throw up for real.

  He kept going.

  Mom has so many expectations and he tried he tried so so hard and us girls he loves us girls but it was too much and your mother, he knows it was hard for her but she knew it wasn’t working and shouldn’t be talking like this talking like this talking like this but I’m right, I am old now and I should hear the truth and he wants the best for me and I can always come to him and blah blah blah blah blah on and on and he’s so sorry.

  Finally, when eighty percent of my body was turned to stone, finally he said, “I’m so glad we could talk like this.”

  I said nothing. I was nowhere.

  Then he said, “I love you, Livy, and like it or not, I’m here. And like it or not, we are going to have to make this work.”

  “No we don’t.”

  He looked at me. “Yes we do.”

  “When’s Mom coming home?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I thought about Mom. How if it was me, if my husband who I loved and loved and loved, took a knife to my heart and left me and made up stupid excuses like we were too young and blah blah barfity blah, maybe I would crack down the middle, too.