Watching You Swim by Evan McMahon

I see them best when I look at the sky. Thousands of countless, bright and tiny spots, chasing each other in the clouds. Like static, but translucent and alive. They look a lot like a jellyfish field, far away. And there are so many of them. I have my own kind of fun, watching them waltz, each speck distinguishable, following its own path, knowing and choosing and thinking. I’ll pick one, give it a name, and follow it. My doctor tells me that they’re an uncharacteristically high number of floaters. Nothing serious. Red blood cells where they shouldn’t be, floating in the eye jelly in front of my retinas, innocent intruders casting a shadow on my field of vision. Echoes of living things, playing happily in the clouds. Something real, serious, alive again in the sky. But still floaters, blood in my own eyes.

I get lost in thought a lot. Mostly when I look at the sky. I don’t have too much to worry about. All I have is Sierra and Cecilia and Gary, and also Stephen. But I’ll be the first to admit, I worry a lot. But that’s my role, that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m a good mom; all my kids are happy and safe. I have a warm home, with blue rooms that I keep clean. We don’t eat processed food for the same reason we don’t use cell phones. Worrying about the ‘what if’ isn’t worth it for me. We love each other and I keep them safe. I watch them all. So I think it’s OK that I get to lose myself every now and then, and look up at the sky. Everything is perfect. This raft is almost never inflated, the water is almost never this warm, there are always horse flies. The pool’s perfect, the raft’s comfortable, nothing’s buzzing around my head, and Sierra is a good swimmer. From here in the pool, I can see through a window into our bedroom, and see my husband reading. We keep the water clean and clear so I can see blue waves printed on the pool liner and Sierra’s foot swims by out of the corner of my sight. I don’t need to be able to see into Cecilia’s room to know she’s comfy on her bed, lying on her seafoam blanket in her ocean themed room that I lovingly decorated, chatting on the phone, smiling, safe and happy again. I look up at the sky to see what color it is and focus on the specks. Some creeping slowly, tired and old, others swimming quickly, young and playful. I single out a certain, familiar one. Jellyfish larva.

It’s impossible to look away, to forget them. After a moment, I see a trend, what my little larva is swimming towards. It’s hard to focus on him, he moves with every movement of my eyes. They’re swimming together to form a tunnel, in the centre of my vision, a school moving and growing happily towards… Water hits my leg and the raft I’m floating on. Sierra splashed me as she dived underwater, neither of us noticing each other. But the splash has distracted me from shadows of my own blood and reminded me of the life I’m out here to watch. She’s nine, and a good swimmer. Her father taught her. And when I do look at her, I remember how fun it can be to watch her, to marvel on how strange and right it is that she has my dip on the bridge of her nose. I remember one of my first boyfriends, while still a kid, used to tell me that he loved to run his finger over my nose and feel its dent. Which one was that? Oh, right. I married that one and he’s sitting in the living room, alone, reading. And I’m watching Sierra zip past me, underwater again, her long sandy hair spreading out like a fin. She’s a fish; she loves to be underwater. She’s happy there, content with my dipped nose. Cecilia is happy in my fish room I made for her – dried salt water lines on her cheeks, puffy, red, jelly eyes – but happy. She’s wrong, she’s smiling. Stephen. They’re so brave and I can see them so clearly, in front of my eyes, blood where it shouldn’t be, in the sky, swimming. He’s not sad, he’s safe, smiling because they’re swimming, leading the lives that jellyfish should have.

“Hey Mom! Watch me!”

She has surprising form in her dive, inspiring in her grace, astounding for her age. She’s growing too. She’s come up for air and I can see water running between the start of little breasts that I didn’t know she had.

“That’s a good one, baby,” I assure her.

“Daddy showed me how.” He did a good job. We do a good job. Different jobs.

I used to think Stephen was going to be a hero. I felt my whole life I was going to be great and famous. But it never came. I went to a college and I didn’t stand out. I didn’t learn anything that I didn’t already know, change into anything I wasn’t already. I married a boy who loved the dip on the bridge of my nose and I got Stephen. My first child, a boy – he was going to be my greatness. He had to be an inspiration because that would mean that I was right, I was great after all. I bought him a superman shirt. He would be a hero, and I would be his. And now, I was right and I was wrong. He’s not a hero, but he is part of my greatness. I’m not great, I’m just a good mom, a hero keeping them safe and watching them. I was right.

“I’m gonna go do another one,” she tells me with a smile and she hops a few time in the shallow end, trying to get her short, made for water legs out of the pool.

“Careful,” I tell her. I feel that she’s safer in the water. I make a quick checklist in my mind before I let myself look back up at the sky. I can see Sierra. Gary is in the bedroom, reading. Cecilia is in her room, without a care in the world. Or at least, any real complaints.

If I concentrate too hard on a single speck, I get a headache. But I choose one and follow it anyway.

Cecilia had come outside timidly about twenty minutes ago, with a pathetic and familiar look of hope on her face. She walked through the screen door, and even though we were staring at each other, she tiptoed on the stepping stones that lead through palm trees to the pool. She wanted something. I was sure that Gary had told her to come to me, after she had inevitably come to him first. She wanted to borrow the car tonight. I did what’s my job; I told her no. She’s only sixteen, she’s too young to be driving at night. In a year or two, maybe, when she’s more experienced, more mature. But she yelled at me that I didn’t care. The mask of meekness cast off, it was clear she was looking for a fight from the start. Dad would have let her take the car, but she had to ask mom, and mom always says no. She screamed that I don’t know what it’s like. She sobbed out that I don’t let her use the internet, I don’t let her drive, I don’t let her have a cell phone, I don’t let her go to parties, I don’t let her go on school trips, I don’t help out with her plays like the other moms do. She screamed at me that I don’t let her live. That I don’t love her, like dad does. As she slinks under her warm blanket tonight, her heart still beating, blood where it should be, she’ll look at the pictures of fish I carefully chose. She won’t admit it to herself, but she’ll know I’m right. I’m a good mom. Her hero. I keep her safe. I love her, in my way.

I can make them dance with each flick of my eye. As they slide towards each other, they swimmingly circle around one another. I always love to look at him and see him happy, playing with his friends while I watch. Stephen, I’d have done the same for you. But I don’t have to. You’ll always be safe.

“Mom!” Sierra’s head has popped out of the water for only a short moment. “Mom, I know we’re not supposed to go on field trips. But, my class is going to the hospital for this one, and we’re learning about how to stay safe. Can I do this one, since it’s about being safe and everyone is going?”

My mind swirls with jellyfish and hospitals, and I don’t look at Sierra, sitting and dripping on the side of the pool. I don’t even think about it. I think about the larva I’m watching, dancing and smiling, each pulse of my heart a beat you jump to in your song. You’ve always made me happy, Stephen. I was so sure with you inside me, both of us smiling. We we’re building a pool, because my husband wanted one. And I wanted superman floaties. I spent all day on my feet, going from store to store. I was exhausted, but I wanted them, so we could be each other’s hero. So I kept walking and looking. And I kept moving and something didn’t feel right. And I didn’t feel sure, and I wasn’t sure that I should bleed, this much. And it felt wrong, blood where and when it shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t have been blood. Only for that moment, I wasn’t sure. Than Gary took me to the hospital. And they made me take drugs, because they didn’t want me to see you for some reason. But I fought and I stayed awake and I saw you, I looked. I watched as the doctors delivered you piece by piece. You were jelly. And I woke up and I knew where I could look for you, because I knew you weren’t gone. You we’re swimming, safe, a hero flying in the sky. I knew that I could be a hero, and love you, by watching you be safe. I’m a hero and I love Sierra and Cecilia, but they’re harder to keep safe than you. You make me happy, because all you want to do is swim.

“MOM! Are you listening? Is it ok if I go?”

I don’t take even a moment to respond, because I love her. “No.” And I look back up at my child.