Skinny Dipping

by Kaye, Alicia M

  The officer shook his head. “This is quite common when people get made redundant after serving for quite a long period of time.”

  “Dad, is this true, have you been made redundant? Are you….” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words suicidal.

  Her Dad stayed tight-lipped, his face like stone.

  “Dad, say something,” Sophie insisted. “He’s got it all wrong, hasn’t he. The facts. You’re okay. You’ve still got a job. You’re hardly suicidal.”

  The policeman sighed. “He lost his job one month ago. It’s not uncommon to see jumpers. With the recession, we’ve seen quite a lot of cases like this. Suicides are not uncommon when people become depressed and can’t see a way out. I just don’t want you to lose your Dad….”

  Sophie stood still, absorbing the information. “Lose my Dad? I’m not going to lose my Dad.” She’d just lost Derek, there was no way she was going to lose her Dad. No way. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid, was he? “You never said anything Dad.”

  “Soph, I got laid off. I thought I would find another job pretty quickly, no one had to know. No one needs to be worried, I’ll sort it all out,” he began to explain.

  For some reason she felt shocked by his revelation, even though the officer had just told her all the facts. A slight concern was forming in the back of her mind. “Mum doesn’t know?” But she knew the answer as soon as she’d asked it.

  “No.”

  “Shit.” She released a sigh, the problem was bigger than she imagined. Mum, her Mum, Gloria Smart didn’t know about her Dad losing his job. “Jeez, so where does she think you’re going everyday?”

  “To work.”

  “But you’re not going to work, and you’re still coming into London?” Her voice was rising again, and she struggled to keep the panic out of it. What was he doing each day, no wonder he’d lost so much weight, he was probably strolling the streets, losing calories by the second.

  “I’m just trying to find a job, trying to find anything. I’m too old you see, they don’t want me behind a bar, or labouring.”

  “You need to tell her.”

  “I can’t,” he said coldly.

  “Dad, you need to tell her. A problem shared is a problem halved.”

  “But I am sharing it.”

  She suddenly felt quite sick inside. “I see.” He was sharing the problem with her, not Gloria.

  “Your mother doesn’t need to worry about things like this,” he hissed. “Besides, how could she help? Since she was pregnant with Edith, she’s never had to worry about a thing in her life. I’ve taken care of it all.”

  “I see,” she repeated. Her Dad had a strong line about their mother. “But you still need to tell her; she’d understand.”

  “She’d only get worried if she found out I lost my job, our savings are dwindling. It’s getting a little tricky to juggle everything. I can’t afford the fare anymore.” The humiliation of not paying the fare must have caused him to try and get past the gates. Now she understood.

  “Oh Dad. Let me give you some money, I don’t want you struggling.” But money wouldn’t solve the problem; her mother needed to know.

  “I don’t want to take it from my daughter.”

  They started at each other, eyes blazing. Sophie knew she was proud like her Dad. Didn’t want help, didn’t want handouts. She herself had moved out from Derek’s place and refused to tell anyone. This was a similar situation, but like he said, a burden shared was a burden halved.

  “What about a small loan?”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. Stubborn.

  “Dad, don’t be proud. You’ve supported me my whole life. It’s only a small loan, just for a little while.”

  He became paler by the minute, and Sophie became filled with worry. What if he had another anxiety attack? Fear propelled up her body. They were in the midst of the banking recession. The rippling effect hadn’t yet started and according to the papers was surely to come. Jobs weren’t exactly growing on trees.

  “Mr. Smart, I’m sure you’ll find a job soon,” the policeman spoke, choosing comforting words. Sophie didn’t know how true the words actually were. “Your Dad explained he worked for the Ministry of Defense for the last twenty years. He’s got so much knowledge. Someone’s going to want to tap into that.”

  “I can’t get an interview. It’s been one month Sophie, I mean one month.” There was real pain in his expression. He was beginning to crack. The policeman was right, he seemed…unstable… she could see his glistening eyes, and his body stiffen. Automatically, Sophie took charge of the situation, her voice nightmarishly soothing. “I’ll help Dad.” She spoke, as if she had the answers. Her Dad needed to hear something, anything reassuring. “Are you coming into London tomorrow?”

  He swallowed. “Yes Soph. That’s the routine. That’s what your mother would expect. I come into London.” He finally looked up, his shoulders squaring back a fraction. How did he do it? He didn’t shed a tear. A pang went through her, she knew, she did the very same thing, didn’t want to worry anyone.

  “I’m going to take you to the train station. We’ll put together a strategy. I’ll help with your resume, and apply for jobs, we’ll do this together.”

  His face began to twist, to contort as large sobs began to shake his body. He began to cry, wiping a few tears at first, then sheets began pouring from his face. She felt overcome with sadness, never having seen her Dad cry before. The pain zigzagging over his face and all she wanted to do was make it better for him. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbed his shoulders for support.

  “Everything will be okay.”

  “Miss Smart, I advise you to not only do the work strategy, but get him some professional help. Jumpers do happen in this country.”

  She nodded. “Of course. I’ll take him home now, and I’ll try and arrange something.”

  The policeman tipped his hat and left them on the pavement.

  “Sophie, can’t we work through this on our own? We don’t need professionals to help me.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Sophie said.

  “Can I trust you, Sophie? Trust you to not make an issue of this? Not tell your mother.”

  She felt her chest tighten, her mother needed to know. Was this something she could help him with? She herself liked to do things on her own. Why did they need a doctor? Or professional help? But he’d come to her, maybe she could help him? “As long as we talk through a strategy. But no more jumping, and you’ll tell me the truth, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  But for some reason, she didn’t feel like she could trust him.

  Chapter 11

  That night Sophie got to the Highbury Aquatic Centre. Her mind full of thoughts, her father’s unemployment, the possibility of him being suicidal and the choices there were to make. As she signed the book at reception, she didn’t even notice Matthew behind the counter. He caught her eye, and visibly twinkled at her, then deliberately looked up at the clock. “You’re thirty minutes early. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were excited to see me.” He grinned.

  “You’re hoping.” She threw her head back and laughed, the feeling helped release the tension from her chest.

  “Here’s too hoping,” he replied and he chuckled.

  “Just needed to get out of the office today.” She dropped the pen down, sighing loudly.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, his face full of concern. Then before realising what she was doing she sat down at the little seat in the reception. It felt like a confessional booth, safe.

  “This is a personal question,” she started. “Someone I know might be depressed. Do you think swimming might help?”

  He paused, a curious expression zigzagged over his face. “I’m not a doctor or anything but I’ve heard depression is a cycle people fall into.”

  “I’d heard that, too.” She felt relieved. She wasn’t crazy, feeling better for speaking to him about it.

>   “Getting active, apparently, gives people positive benefits. But don’t take that as medical advice or anything because I have absolutely no medical background.”

  “I’d heard that, too. I was hoping swimming might help.”

  “Swimming can definitely help a person become fitter. A habit of doing regular exercise is so powerful. All the health benefits must help a person start to feel good about themselves and generate positive thoughts. Swimming of course is a form of exercise and is probably excellent when dealing with depression.”

  “Yes, I’d heard sport’s supposed to be excellent for depression.”

  He reached out, patted her hand softly, then pulled it away automatically. “Are you okay? Are you depressed?”

  She gave Matthew a quick look. “No, it’s not me.”

  “You sure? Winter is a tough time for a lot of people. ”

  He was really sweet. “I’m worried about my Dad.”

  “Your Dad?”

  “He lost his job about one month ago, didn’t tell anyone.” She swallowed. “He’s been acting so strangely, coming into London everyday. I only found out because…”

  “Because…”

  “He broke down at the station, and a policeman came to visit me at work and told me about his anxiety attack.”

  “Really?” Matthew looked shocked. “Sport can be good for anxiety, stress relief, too.”

  She nodded. “Apparently, since he lost his job he’s been coming into London everyday, God knows what he’s doing. I wanted to find an activity for him, to help. I don’t want him to be a…jumper.”

  “A jumper?”

  “Yeah, one of those guys who jumps in front of trains.” Sophie swallowed. “It’s odd behaviour. I’m worried. The policeman said we should seek professional help, but my Dad wants to keep it between us. Mum has to know if this is going to continue. I mean, she’ll find out eventually. When is it the right time to break someone’s trust? When should I tell my Mum?”

  “I don’t know,” Matthew said. “Are you honest with him? I mean, do you tell him the truth about things, even when it’s hard?”

  She thought about her move. She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He looked at her oddly. “Well you either you do or you don’t.”

  It wasn’t an easy answer. There was the slight issue of her break up with Derek.

  “Bring him to the pool if it helps. You can show him how you’re getting into swimming,” Matthew said softly. “On that note, are you going to get into the pool today? You might be late if we continue this.”

  She nodded. “I better go and get ready.”

  ***

  Sophie got dressed in her swimsuit armed with the knowledge she’d survived lesson number one. Sophie Smart the survivor, there was quite a ring to that.

  Matthew started the lesson, but instead of entering the pool via the ladder, she got in by the steps. Oh the steps were friendly, providing a very calm descent into the water.

  They practiced bobs, and she blew the slightest bubbles whilst she looked under the water. If she ever got the hang of all this, she might even be able to go snorkelling, wouldn’t that be a laugh?

  Here she was in the water, the shallow end, with the determination of a champion. Maybe this fear of swimming could be tackled exactly like Matthew said, by learning life-long skills.

  “Now I want you to do a bob, without holding onto anything.”

  She froze. She wasn’t expecting this. Her heart beat harder in her chest, and she wished he could hear. Surely if he could he would stop this insanity. She bit down onto her lip, this was enough, taking it too far.

  “Let go?”

  He nodded. “Let go.” His was face quite serious. Why was he such a task-master all the time?

  “I can’t let go.” The need to hold onto something became very important.

  “You’ve bobbed with the wall, with the noodle, now it’s time to trust yourself. Remember to blow bubbles out of your mouth like I taught you.”

  “But what if I fall?” Images of her feet flying over her head kept playing through her mind.

  “Do you feel steady just standing here? You seem to be doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” His words were always so encouraging. “You’ve done loads of bobs by the wall. You’re doing marvellously. It’s exactly the same.”

  “It is a little harder.” He had to see that letting go would be much more difficult.

  “But you’re more than capable of doing it. I’ve seen what you can do, and you can definitely let go.”

  She looked around her, assessed the water, could she do this?

  “Remember we’re in the shallow end. If you feel it’s too much, just stand up. I’ll be here. At anytime you feel uncomfortable just grab onto the wall. You know you can stand up and reach for it, if you need to. That’s perfectly fine.”

  “Just stand up?” she repeated.

  “Just stand up. You can do this.” He kept saying that. He didn’t really know, she wasn’t exactly the most coordinated of people.

  “Trust me, you’re standing up now, bob down, and you can stand up again.”

  “I suppose.” She suddenly felt stupid. Her fear must seem ridiculous to someone like him. She needed to man up. Do this.

  She swallowed, drew a deep breath. Her lungs expanded, and she tried to control the fear pulsating through her as she dropped beneath the surface. Please don’t drown. Please don’t drown. Please don’t drown.

  She madly blew bubbles beneath the water. She couldn’t bear the thought of swallowing them. Thoughts of choking terrified her as she hovered underwater and her thighs ached. She looked around the pool, seeing Matthew blowing bubbles in front of her. Bracing her legs, she vaulted back up. Matthew went up at the same time. Panic soared as she grappled for the wall. She wanted desperately to clasp it now back above the surface. Her feet wobbled on the tiles and a thrill flew up her spine as she found her balance.

  She balanced. She was standing up, not holding onto anything. She felt heady, dizzy, maybe from standing up too quickly. She realised she was smiling, triumphant. She was alive, living, and safe.

  She looked around the pool in amazement, ominous water surrounding her. The fluid sat below her breasts and she had tackled it.

  “Wow, I mean totally wow,” she breathed, stunned at her ability to bob without holding onto anything.

  “Fantastic! Well done!” Matthew clapped.

  “Thanks,” she swallowed. She cast a glance at the clock, hanging at the other end of the pool, when was this torture going to end?

  “Superb! Are you feeling positive?” His voice was infectious and she couldn’t help but return his broad smile.

  “I’m feeling challenged.”

  There was a dimple forming on his right cheek. “What’s the positive?”

  She laughed giddily, narrowing her eyes on him. He was determined. “The most apparent thing is that I’m alive,” she said, trying to make a joke; it was true, she hadn’t drowned.

  “What else?”

  “I am getting my breathing under control.”

  “Tell me you like swimming.”

  Her mouth set in a firm line. She did not like swimming. She was there to save her career and she was still focused on identifying ways of how she could speed up the work on his next campaign so she could put an end to all of this.

  “Jeeeeezzzzzzz. You’re indoctrinating me,” she chuckled forcing the playfulness in her voice because she suddenly felt a surge of anger. She was risking her life in this pool. “Isn’t it enough you’ve got me here? Now you want me to love it, too?”

  “Say it, Soph,” Matthew urged, ignoring her complaint. “Positive reinforcement is important. The words people say and the thoughts people think are important. The more you say something and the more you think something, the more you will end up believing it, doing it, and living it. What type of person do you want to be? Can you do anything you set your mind to?”

  Of course she could, what t
ype of girl did he think she was? She was in the pool, wasn’t she? “Hell, yes.”

  “Say it.”

  She swallowed. “I like swimming.”

  “Again.”

  “I like swimming.” She spoke a little louder.

  “Last time. Make your words echo around this pool and say the words with Sophie attitude.” A mischievous look flooded his face.

  Sophie rolled her eyes and forced the corners of her mouth up, into a smile. “I like swimming.”

  “Super!”

  They continued to do the bob exercises in unison, together dropping beneath the surface like synchronized swimmers who hadn’t quite worked out how to do anything impressive. She kept reminding herself, she’d get there eventually.

  Chapter 12

  Sophie woke up gasping for air. She’d been underwater, choking, drowning at the bottom of the Highbury Aquatic Centre. Since no one knew she was learning how to swim, they didn’t think to look for her, no matter how much she tried to writhe around on the bottom of the pool for help. Soaked with sweat, a realisation seemed to hit her. She was a poor communicator. She needed to improve, tell the truth, she could trust her family. Maybe not men, but her family always had her back.

  She flew out of bed with a need pulsating. She needed to tell her parents about the swimming lessons, the move, and of course the split with Derek. It wasn’t a hard thing to do. All she had to do was communicate and trust.

  An idea sprang to her mind, and she ran around the flat like a whirlwind, her touch reached every corner. Like a mad woman, she whipped round the house, a cloth in hand. Kitchen. Countertops wiped spotless and clean. All stray glasses begging for a home, found a nice spot in the dishwasher.

  She even dared opening a window in the midst of November, letting the cold chill filter through the flat. She hoped the chill would create a fresh odour. Sophie scuttled up the stairs, knocked as politely (but firmly) as she could on Carol’s door.

  “Carol, are you awake?” she hissed. She got a groan in reply. “Sorry to disturb, just letting you know that I’m bringing my Dad round, he hasn’t seen the place and he might want to meet you.”