In and Out of the Crystal Blue

I stare into the clear depths of glistening crystal, watching as it moves gently yet undisturbed. In the past, it gave me joy to jump in and feel the cold water engulf me, rise above the surface and feel beads of water trickle down my face as I opened my eyes and felt the sting of chlorine enter them. Things were not always this way. At one point in my life, I was afraid to enter the water, to feel its cooling touch rush along my skin. My father introduced me to this new wonder, a wonder I would learn to love early in life and avoid later on.

He was always the first to enter the water. Lighter than I with an awkward t-shirt tan this made him look white from afar, his stomach pushing the water around him as he walked around in the shallow end. He reached up for me and told me to jump in. I refused. The water was too deep for someone so small. I will admit that I was short for my age so everything was the deep end for me. He took my small hand into his big, rough one. The water had already begun to make his hands wither. He tried to tug me in but I still refused. Finally, he walked up to the side where I stood, carefully eyeing the water causing me to forget to focus. That is when he made his move. Before I knew it I was in his arms, clenching onto his shoulders, butt and legs were the only things that felt the water. I shivered. The cold rush of the water and fear seemed to claim my body as I froze in his arms. I did not know what to do but it seemed as if he had a plan. Without any warning, he held only my arms as he lowered me into the water. I was floating as he dragged me along the water’s top. I could not help but smile. It felt nice to fly along the water. Staring up into his softened eyes, he took me in his arms again. He told me to hold my breath and to tap his back when I needed air. I knew then that we were going under.

My heart was still racing. The meet was over and my heart was still racing. Arms struggling to grasp the towel, legs shaking as I walked into the bathroom. Mom said, “Shower at home.” Hair on the floor, clogging the drain, water directly from the pool drenched one girl’s hair. She huffed in disgust as she turned off the cold water. I went into a stall to change. Hair becoming unruly knotted and curled. Arms and legs began to show dead white skin, like snow upon asphalt. Uncomfortable itching sets in as I struggle to ignore it, sliding my socks on before heading out to meet my father.

“I have to pick up my ribbons prior to leaving.” A mother and her child enter, letting the cold air hurry in, sinking into my damp scalp, sending chills throughout my entire body.

“You didn’t get any ribbons.” Short and blunt. He had observed all the meets. Insisted on calling them competitions and did not believe I could win, that I could improve and be a threat.

“They said go pick up your ribbons. I could have placed in something.” I slumped over to the lady near the filing cabinet, thinking that she had overheard the entire conversation. I whispered my name. Defeated, I knew I probably did not get anything.

“Congratulations Kellie Carle. You received four ribbons from the last meet.” Her glasses sat unsteadily upon the tip of her nose. The veins in her hands entangled together as they disappeared under the covering of her shirt. I accepted the brightly covered ribbons, ranging from second to fifth place.

            Trees fly by as the white on black stripes keep us to our own side.

           “I can’t believe you grabbed second place! How many girls do you think you were up against?” Legs shaking, eyes darting, his mind was racing.

            “I don’t know. It was a big pool.” Legs still to avoid cracking the skin anymore. Eyes fixed on the trees. My mind was still.

            “You could be really good at this. Your coach even said you could become a shark.”

            “I’m fine where I am.”

            “Now don’t get that attitude. You can go further to bigger competitions. All we need to do is work on your dive.”

            “I hat diving.” Red light, his gaze connects with mine.

            “You don’t hate anything. You can dislike it but you don’t hate it.” Green and we are off again. If he let me hate one thing, it would be that saying. “You have a real talent for swimming, what do I always tell you?”

            “Practice, practice, practice.” Sleep began setting in as I rested my head on the unforgiving door.

            “That’s right! Practice, practice, practice.”

I become numb as my body finally relaxes. I did not want to say no, stop or can’t. I pushed myself to the limit everyday, off on Sundays. Middle school, the perfect student. Violin, another struggle as my fingers pulsed as if a piece of my heart had entered every one of them. Pack the violin, wash the rosin off my fingers and off to swim. No time for no, just school, music, competition, work, bed. A machine programmed to perform all these tasks with ease until I discovered a flaw in the system. I did not like the program and found myself becoming frustrated with the inventor whose motto was “Practice, practice, practice.”

The feeling dissolves, putting one foot in satisfies me now. The passing thought of a child’s excited cries to jump in once more echoes through my mind. The end result? My hair expands, turning into a giant and unruly afro. My skin flakey and dry as ash makes me want to scratch like a child with chicken pox. Now, I can no longer stand the burning sensation from the chlorine that seeps within my eye. No longer do I submerge myself in the chlorinated water that brought such joy in my youth. I only stare into the clear depths, wishing I could once again jump in.

Reviews

[Leave me alone....]

Nice, this was really good.

[Dalebear]

Good write