The Weight of Our Expectation

Seargeant Swim Coach (part 2)

(edited 27 SEP 2024)

There were two pools at the Charleston YMCA, one indoors that was frequently cordoned off for lap swimming, the other outdoors — available in the summertime as a babysitter for overworked parents. The outdoor pool was busy with kids playing Marco Polo and floating in the sunshine. Kurt had chosen the indoor pool.

As they walked into the enclosed area, Kurt's words continued to drone on, his voice laced with disappointment. "I know you don't want to. I know you think it's torture. It's good for you. Exercise. It'll give you confidence and a man's body — and that's what women want, son, before they're willing to give you a son of your own. Hold your head up. Know that you can take care of yourself, that you can protect what's yours. These are's important qualities. A woman wants a man she can depend on so she can feel comfortable being a woman."

Max tuned out the familiar sermon, unable to decipher how his father could possibly connect this exercise regimen with procreation.

The indoor pool area, enclosed by cinderblock walls that seemed to trap both sound and scent, pressed in on Max like a vice. It was a sensory onslaught. The air, sticky with chlorine and humidity, stung his nostrils and made his eyes water. "Seriously, who determined the chlorine level," he muttered.

The fluorescent lights overhead, already too bright, reflected off the rippling surface of the water, creating a series of dizzying strobe effects that made his stomach churn. And the noises — a cacophony of splashing, shouting, laughter, hollers, shouts, whistles — everything bounced off the tile walls, amplifying the chaos.

Max hugged his towel tighter, as if it were a security blanket. He longed for the quiet solitude of his bedroom, his sanctuary of books and drawings. Here, he felt exposed, every awkward movement magnified under the harsh glare of the overhead lights.

He tried to use a scientist's detachment to watch as other people navigated the water, each with an ease he couldn't fathom. Kids his own age, their tanned limbs sleek and strong, torpedoed across the pool, tossing balls to one another, their laughter echoing in his ears like sonic booms.

A group of older women, their floral swim caps bobbing like oversized water lilies, chatted and gossiped while effortlessly gliding through the water in the deep end. Even the toddlers in the shallow end, their chubby legs churning with surprising power, seemed more at home in this watery world than he did.

He glanced down at the pair of pale, skinny legs, protruding awkwardly from his oversized blue shorts, and felt a familiar pang of shame. 'Semper Fi' means you do what you're told, when you're told, his father's lessons echoed in his head, a cruel reminder that even here, there was no escaping certain expectations. His appearance mocked his sense of self — insisting he was a gangly, out-of-place creature with a mop of unruly red hair instead of the up-and-coming, world-renown scientist he dreamed of becoming.

He wished, not even for the first time that day, that he could disappear, dissolve into the green-blue pool water like a bath bomb.

As they reached the edge of the pool, and Kurt gestured for Max to jump in.

"Alright, son, let's go through the routine. First, we're gonna do some water walking. Then we'll do some egg beaters and treading. After that you'll get a break and do some ring dives. We'll finish off with leg kicks and then water running. Put your spirit into it, recruit. No slacking."

Max stood frozen. He knew what his father expected, but his feet seemed rooted to the rough concrete. The pool was teeming with people, including kids he recognized from school. Max decided that it was best to stay as inconspicuous as possible. The bagginess of his ill-fitted swimsuit was already mortifying enough; he didn't need anyone noticing the leather belt he was using to keep the whole thing from falling down.