RESURGENCE

CHAPTER 7 - Growing up

CHAPTER SEVEN

GROWING UP

The sun glittered brightly on the calm and clear water. Linda Lincoln jumped into the pool, intending to cut through the water, but splashed just enough to create little waves that broke the sunlight into a million flashes. Stuart carefully entered the pool, walking down the steps at the shallow end, and stopped when the water reached his chin. He took a deep breath and went under.

Hold your breath and relax your body. He recalled what his mom had said.

Your lungs are filled with air. Don't breathe in. Just relax your body. His lungs felt ready to explode as he had inhaled too much air. Are they going to burst? He let some air escape through his nose and saw little bubbles running up his cheeks.

Spread your arms and feel the water. He felt the way water embraced his whole being as if he stood in the middle of a desert in the heat of the day with nowhere to hide from the sun. The water had engulfed him completely.

Straighten your spine. With his arms spread like a bird, his feet floated up and he could see the blue pool floor.

Hear the water. It was a quiet afternoon before he had entered the pool and the only sound breaking the silence was of the water sprinkler. The trees stood alone, not even whispering as no wind blew, and the words of silence were long. Now, under the water he could hear a constant buzz, and the voice of water was like a low growl of a rabid dog about to attack.

Release your breath slowly. He held his breath and looked around. He had forgotten his glasses today. The water always looked hazy without them. He exhaled a little and tiny bubbles went shooting past his eyes. The voice of the water got a little louder, and he peeked towards the deep end and could not take his eyes off it. The deep end seemed to get closer to him with each passing second. It slowly inched toward him like the mouth of the grisly monster he had read about in the library.

Stand on your feet and take a deep breath again. He broke out of the trance as he felt a huge urge to take a deep breath. Slowly, he brought his feet down and tried to stand upright. His toes searched for solid ground, but all they could find was water. Suddenly, his breath broke and the air came rushing out of his mouth. In the hope of finding some part of the bottom of the pool, he kicked his legs wildly. Due to the panic, all the air in his lungs escaped and he began to sink. The water rushed into his mouth as he opened it for a second. He closed it immediately and, with a mouth full of water, he kept sinking until finally his feet found the bottom of the pool. He jumped up with all the strength he could gather, and as soon as he breached the water he gasped—air mixed with water went down his lungs. Wheezing and coughing, he got out of the pool as quickly as he could. 

  The water had played a dirty trick on him.

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Stuart’s father, Alfred Lincoln, was a well-loved and respected man in the community. People were always comfortable around him, and he thought it was due to his warm smile. Stuart's mother, Linda Lincoln, was a gorgeous woman, and most people in the town of Roseville wondered why she had chosen to marry Alfred, a mild-mannered, soft-spoken librarian.

Most afternoons after school, Stuart walked over to the public library where his father worked. For hours, Stuart read science or sports magazines, and when the library closed at five both father and son walked home, which was about two miles away. During the walk, Stuart often asked his father questions that intrigued him: 

“How does a light bulb work?”

“How do computers work?

“What makes the air in the A/C cold?”

“How does sound get recorded on a CD?”

“What are satellites?”

Most of the time, Stuart’s father had no answer to the questions and felt amazed at how little he knew. He would research and find out and tell Stuart the next day. Although Stuart’s inquisitive nature had surprised and delighted his father, after a few months of researching and explaining the mysterious world to his son, Alfred’s enthusiasm to learn new things waned. Anytime Stuart asked a hard question again, his father simply replied, “I have no clue. Read and learn my son.” Soon the questions stopped, but Stuart kept reading and figuring it out himself. 

Alfred Lincoln loved to read and, more often than not, he took home a novel from the library. Reading was not his hobby but his passion—a sort of addiction. A lawyer friend had once asked Alfred once, “Why don’t you write a book? You are a good storyteller. I bet you can write one.”

“I want to read more,” replied Alfred. “The day I feel I can’t read anymore, I will start work on my own book—and it’ll be a work of art.”

The same lawyer friend read the eulogy at Alfred’s funeral.

Alfred Lincoln, aged thirty-six, died of a heart attack.

The cause of the sudden cardiac arrest was Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy: a genetic condition where the heart muscles increase in size, which results in one having an unexpected fatal heart attack.

Stuart was a month short of fifteen when his father passed away, and it was the same day when he almost drowned in the swimming pool.