I'm Down: A Memoir (31 page)

“But,” I said, trying to make her see, “if we waste energy treading water and being cold, I won’t make it.”

“You have to make it,” she said, grabbing my arm and cozying up to me. “You’re my mommy.”

“I’m not your mommy,” I said, throwing her arm down. “I’m your sister,”

“Okay,” she said, grabbing my arm again. “Sister-mommy. Either way, you have nothing to worry about. You’ll beat us both.”

“Why can’t this just be our thing, though?” I asked.

I looked back over at Dad, who was now picking up a large glass award Teagan’s dad had won for business-something-or-other and weighing it against a two-liter bottle of Coke he had
in the other hand. He saw my sister and me looking at him, and he smiled. Then he jokingly made a bludgeoning motion with the award, indicating that you could really kill a person with it, and my sister and I laughed.

“All right!” Dan said, clapping his hands. “Enough horsing around already. This lake isn’t gonna swim itself.”

“Is your fly gonna zip itself?” Janie asked, and Dan looked down at his zipper.

“Got you!” Janie pointed and laughed. “Made you look.”

“Hey,” Dan said, upstaged. “Remember, we came here to swim today . . . not to party.”

And Janie looked at me like “what a dork.” I smiled back. I actually lived for this stuff.

So we suited up and began wading into the lake. It was an overcast day, which made the lake seem even colder. And as I looked at the dark green water underneath the gray sky, my enthusiasm for the swim itself vanished.

“It’s cold,” I said to Dan.

“Nah,” Dad interrupted, jumping in the water and taking the first few strokes. “You’ll heat up once you start swimming.” I dunked my head and goggled up. Next to me Anora carefully put her cornrows in her swim cap.

Teagan’s mom and Ari’s dad got behind the wheel of the boat and took off. The rest watched us through the panoramic windows of Teagan’s comfy living room for a few minutes as we began swimming away from shore, and then began freshening their drinks and returning to their conversations. They looked so warm and dry.

Dad and Anora pulled up to my side. It was the beginning of the swim, and they both seemed a little too ambitious. But I let them keep pace with me, thinking that I could afford to slow down a little. I’d just save my thunder for the last quarter
mile. My plan was to swim with the group till we got close to the other side, then break away from the herd and sprint to shore. At that point no one could yell at me about swimming ahead of the boat. And knowing my teammates the way I did, I was sure I’d have some competition. Any way things shook out, I was definitely gonna kick Dad’s ass.

But keeping pace for Anora and Dad proved harder than I thought. Anora had two speeds: racing and slow. Whereas my natural tendency was to gain speed, and I unconsciously sped up a little. Then I saw that I was losing my sister and Dad, and had to slow to what seemed like a snail’s pace as I waited for them to catch up to me—just to have the same thing happen all over again. Swimming this way, I also became painfully aware of how tediously long 2.7 miles could be. And rather than being afraid I’d tire out, I was afraid I’d lose my mind.

Then the boat cut its engine about seven hundred yards out, and we made our first stop to let everyone catch up. Ari and Janie were up ahead and they promptly stopped as they had been instructed. And me, Dad, and Anora quickly caught up to them and stopped, too. The water was choppier now and very cold, but Dad’s face was beaming as he clumsily treaded water, and Anora looked as happy and energetic as if she were waiting to start the swim. I had no idea what I looked like, but I already felt tired—not from the swim but from pacing myself, and worrying about my dad and sister, who seemed utterly unconcerned with my sacrifice.

The next leg of the swim I didn’t worry about Dad and Anora, and swam at my own pace. I felt like kind of a dick for leaving them behind, but we would all catch up at the next stop. I tuned out guilt I had about leaving my family and tried to enjoy the swim—pulling through the lake, feeling the weightlessness that you feel only in water and the grace of swimming well. I listened to the sound of my own breath in
my ears as I glided into my zone. I was one with the lake. I was a fish. It was me and the water. And then the boat pulled to a halt again for our next break.

We had stopped near the middle of the lake. And because a lot of boats came through, there was a giant buoy that we could all grab on to and take a real rest. This time my father was way, way back. He plodded along one stroke after another with a form I could tell must be exhausting him. I was tired just watching him, and thought,
He has to be working at least twice as hard as me.
And for some reason I began to worry that he might come in last.
Well, he does have a really even pace,
I reassured myself.
And he’s not last.
A seven-year-old named Wesley was behind him.

Bobbing along in the water, hanging on to an edge of the buoy with the rest of my teammates, we started to get really cold, and it was a very unpleasant wait. The wind was blowing, making big waves and knocking the boat around, but mostly it was causing our top halves, which were out of the water and grabbing the buoy, to get really chilled. And the more uncomfortable we got, the more I thought my teammates might be resenting Dad. And as the minutes passed, I started to get mad at them for the resentment they may or not have felt, and I wanted to make sure Dad was going to get enough rest before we started the next leg.

“Dan!” I yelled. “You’re gonna give them a rest, right?”

“A little one,” he said. “But there are twenty of us hanging off a buoy right now, and we have to keep moving in this cold, or our muscles will tense up.”

“Okay,” I said nervously. “As long as they get a second to catch their breath, you know?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dan said, which was easy for him to say.

Dad and Wesley finally swam in, and Dad grabbed the buoy next to me. He smiled at me, exhausted, but so happy to have held his own with the team. And little Wesley doggy-paddled from where he had landed on the buoy over to Dan and tugged on his arm.

“Dan . . . I wanna go in the boat,” Wesley said in his little-boy voice. I immediately panicked. With Wesley in the boat, Dad was last. I looked at him next to me—his pale white body grabbing on to the buoy while he gulped air, he looked like one of those bodies they fish out of the water on crime shows.

“You sure, Wesley?” Dan asked.

“You sure, Wesley?” I echoed. “You don’t want to just try to do one more leg, buddy?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” he stammered through little blue lips. “I wanna go in the boat!” So Dan gently handed Wesley up into the boat, and Teagan’s mom handed him a blanket, which he immediately wrapped his little body in and smiled. Wesley didn’t need to be a hero.

“Okay!” Dan shouted. “Enough sitting around. Let’s get back to it.” And we all found acrobatic ways to get a push off the buoy, but I was worried about Dad drowning at this point. He was just too exhausted and he obviously couldn’t keep up with us. My sister swam by me and did a little butterfly, kicking up a splash.

“Isn’t this cool, Mishi!” she said. “I didn’t think I was gonna like it, but I never get to swim with you in the same lane. Isn’t it fun to swim together?”

“I think Dad’s too tired,” I said.

“For what?” she asked.

“To keep going!”

“Mishi!” she replied. “He’s practically surrounded by lifeguards, and he can always get in the boat. He’s not gonna die or anything.”

“But he’s last.”

“No,” Anora pointed out. “Wesley is last. I mean he’s in the boat. A person who finishes definitely beats someone in the boat.”

When it was time to stop again, just as I had thought, Dad was last. He was at least fifty meters back as he hurled his stiff arms one over another. The team seemed patient, but I looked dubiously at my sister,

“He’s not gonna get any rest,” I said, watching his tired arms slap at the water.

“No,” she said. “Not really.” And with her limitless reserves of energy, she started doing front flips in the water. She stopped and asked me, “Do I look like a dolphin when I do that?”

“Exactly like a dolphin,” I said. Then returning to Dad, “Doesn’t he look tired?”

“Exhausted,” she said.

“I would have gotten in the boat by now.”

“Maybe,” she said, doing another one of her dolphin flips.

I watched with anticipation as Dad crawled toward us. I was anxious to see what kind of state he was in when he stopped, and thinking maybe he’d be ready to get in the boat. But when he finally reached us, rather than try to cop a little rest with us, he just kept swimming past us. He knew we’d been waiting for him for a long time and he wasn’t gonna keep us anymore. And then Dan shouted, “Time’s up, move out!”

Why is he doing this?

The next leg of the swim I was rattled. I swam close to the center of the herd, but only out of habit. I was letting my arms and feet do what they do in water with this particular group of people and freed my mind to wander back to Dad. I knew he must be very far back now. Cold, alone, and so tired. But he couldn’t be thinking that. There’s no way he could be doing
what he was doing without total control over his own mind. The swim was hard for me, and I did it every day.

When we stopped again I could see the shore. It was a little landing with a sandy beach and tall grasses growing all around it. I imagined myself sprinting toward it, Janie and Ari on either side of me. I saw us racing up the beach and them trailing as I ran into the tall grasses and threw my arms in the air victoriously. Me ruling—them drooling. And then I felt my sister’s voice pulling me out of my fantasy.

“Look at Dad,” she said. And now she was worried. I pulled my gaze from the sandy line of beach and pointed it 180 degrees in the opposite direction.

“Oh, my God,” I said as I saw him.

“You think he’s gonna make it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, unable to draw my attention away. It was like watching a train wreck. He was weak. He was exhausted. He was in agony. And physically, I felt tired but fine. I wondered if there was any way of carrying him on my back, but I guessed that defeated the whole purpose. I felt the utter powerlessness of being unable to do anything to get him to that beach, and totally astounded by his effort to keep up with us all. I imagined that if he was swimming with guys his own age and who didn’t swim five hours every day, he would look pretty good. And then I realized,
He isn’t trying to beat guys his own age. He’s swimming against me.
And he looked like he might drown just to make a point. And as much as I wanted to beat Ari and Janie, I just couldn’t sprint in to shore now. I needed to get my dad out of the water.

I swam over to Dan. “I’m cold,” I said. “I’m getting in the boat.” I thought maybe if I got in the boat, Dad would take another twenty strokes and get in. Point proved, no drowning necessary.

“What?” he said incredulously. “What are you talking about? You’re being ridiculous. You’re almost there!”

“I don’t care,” I insisted. “I want to be dry. I want a blanket. I’m getting in the boat.”

“I would expect this from Janie,” he said. “But you, Mishna?” I knew I couldn’t take much more of this . . . and I interrupted him.

“I know I’m lame. I know I’m a pussy. I know I’m a loser.”

“Yeah!” he said. “Your own dad is gonna beat you!”

“Them’s the breaks, I guess,” I said, and swam for the boat.

In the background I could hear Anora asking, “What’s Mishna doing?” And when I reached the fiberglass side of the boat, there were no helpful arms or ladders coming down to assist me.

“Hey!” I said. “Coming up.”

“Why?” Teagan’s mom said, still not throwing down a ladder.

“Yeah,” Ari’s dad said. “The shore’s right there. Just finish it.”

“I’m cold,” I said. “Too cold.”

“You’re just being stubborn,” Teagan’s mom said. “If you’re cold, swim it fast.”

This quitting thing was harder than I thought.

“No!” I said. “I’ve really decided. I’m getting in the boat.”

“If she wants to quit, let her quit!” Dan screamed. “But just know, Mishna, if you quit, now, you’ll never stop quitting!”

I looked at Dad, his every stroke said,
I’m here, Mishna. I’m still here. It doesn’t matter what you do—I’m right behind you, I’m still here.

“I’ll have to live with that,” I said.

Teagan’s mom said. “So you have to come up? There’s no way you can finish?”

“N-O!”
I said. And a rope ladder was lowered.

______

I climbed into the boat, but I got none of the compassion that Wesley had gotten. I had to find my own blanket and place to sit. Teagan’s mom and Ari’s dad just glared at me like I was letting everybody down, but they could never understand. My dad had come to me on my turf and across 2.7 miles of water so that I could hand him his ass. He had surpassed the limits of personal agony. He was the winner.

Just as I got situated Anora came splashing up to the side of the boat.

“Hey, sissy,” she said. “What are you doing in the boat? You aren’t gonna finish?” Ari and Janie were right behind her. Everyone was getting in on it.

“But Mishi,” Anora said, disappointed. “I need you to swim with me. Who do I swim with now?”

“You swim with you,” I said.

“Wimpy wimperman,” Ari said, antagonizing me.

“Just make sure you kick Ari’s butt,” I said to Anora.

“I will,” she said. And splashed him in the face.

Dad finally caught up with the group. He looked like someone who had been breaking rocks on a chain gang all day—only wetter. He took one look at me up in the boat and got confused.

“Oh, no,” he said. “What’s your problem?”

“She’s cold,” Anora said.

“I’m cold,” I said.

“That’s ’cause you don’t eat enough,” he said. “Now get out of the boat.”

“Nope,” I said. “It’s over. Once you get into the boat, it’s over.”

“No,” Dad said, fighting for air. “It’s not over. You can get back in.”