The Depth of Swimming Pools by George Kaplan
The scented Caribbean heat greets them as they step out of the air-conditioned hotel lobby. “Wow, what a day!” says Simon, lowering the sunglasses perched on his forehead. Jeanine pays no attention to him. She walks two steps ahead. “Why don’t you take your sweatshirt off?” he says. She readjusts the strap of the large bag over her shoulder.
“I’m shivering. It was cold inside.”
“But it’s warm now.”
She stops walking, opens her bag, and fishes out a brush. She hands him her bulging tote bag, tilts her head sideways, and brushes her long argent hair, raking the lost hair with her fingers without looking at him.
“Pull your hair back, it’ll be cooler. I love when you pull it back, in a bunch.”
She drops the brushes in the bag and takes the bag away from him.
“It looks great down too,” says Simon. But Jeanine already is walking down the footpath. She is in no mood to put up with him. She hears him talking about the hotel four steps behind: how everyone is so friendly, how the place is so gorgeous. He walks slowly. Each time he goes down a step, he pauses between sentences, short of breath. From the top of the footpath, sheltered by two rows of sentinel-like palm trees, she spots the swimming pool’s shiny blue water down below. The water gleams under the slanted sun and is as blue as on TV. The sandy stones look whitewashed. She anticipates the heat. It must be exhilarating by the pool. Even in the trees’ shadow, the heat makes her sweatshirt and sarong stick to her skin. She rolls her shoulders to loosen up her clothes. She would like to remove her sweatshirt but decides against it. See, I told you, he will not wait to say. She is in no mood to put up with his comments either.
“I’ve been dying for this moment,” Simon says, catching up with Jeanine. He takes her hand. She is very surprised. It has been a long time since he has held her hand, in public. He squeezes it and smiles at her. A feeling of discomfort overcomes her. There is something wrong with this trip, she acknowledges. Ten years she has been waiting for this trip and she is not enjoying it at all. Since their arrival, Simon has been way too friendly and caring towards her. This unexpected attention makes her feel distrustful. Her red sarong comes loose. She stops to tighten it up. He holds her bag and makes a comment on the tasteful breakfast they have just had. She grins back at him and focuses on her sarong. Funny, how everything is wonderful and glorious for him today, she thinks. He must be up to something.
“We don’t eat enough fresh fruits. We should, it’s good for us.” He pats his rounded belly. “I don’t feel as bloated as I normally do.”
Jeanine concentrates on the knot she is making with the corner of her sarong. You were very generous with your tip for that young waitress, she hears herself say.
“She’s probably a college kid. She needs it. We don’t.”
Jeanine sketches a short-lived smile and tries to guess his expression behind the sunglasses. She knows he is lying. That was not the reason why he was so generous but he will never admit it. He seizes her hand again and gestures her to resume the walk down the leveled path. The palm-trees’ canopy sways and rustles in the sporadic wind. Yet, the heat intensifies with each step closer to the pool. In the distance, Jeanine gazes at the women floundering about the pool. At least Simon will have something to entertain himself.
Music coming through speakers welcomes them. The water shines in the pool. The vanilla scent of suntan lotion mixed with the spray of splashes lands on them. All of the mattresses are occupied or marked with a towel. While Simon searches for two vacant chairs, Jeanine fetches towels. Simon finds two long chairs next to each other. He lays his towel down and lies on top of it in his black Speedo.
“Gosh, we look pale,” he says, lifting his glasses on and off. Jeanine takes her time. She half-undoes her sarong and checks out the surrounding crowd. Colonies of couples and single people, all young and good-looking. Some people peek in their direction. She surveys her legs and ties her sarong back on. She removes her sweatshirt instead. A young waitress in khaki shorts and a tight shirt approaches and asks them if they need anything and goes on telling them all the services available. Her shirt is unbuttoned on the top. She has knotted the lapels of her shirt and her navel is exposed. No belly. Golden skin. She holds a rounded yellow plastic tray tucked under her arm. The size of her breasts swells when she squeezes the tray against her chest. Simon cups a hand above his eyes to watch her even though she is not standing in the sun. She is beautiful. She has long straight dark hair, which gleams in the sun. Fresh young features, great skin, perfect white teeth. He smiles at her and asks her to come back later. Jeanine turns around as if she has not noticed her. She removes her flip-flops and slides them under her mattress, then watches Simon watching the waitress walks away. She watches the waitress too, to see what Simon is watching. Long, tanned, and firm legs. Tight small butt. Life and time haven’t caught up with her yet, she tells herself.
“Pretty woman.”
“Yes,” says Simon rolling over on his large belly, his head towards her. “Young people today seem to take better care of themselves than we did.”
Jeanine spreads her towel and thinks of “fresh fruits.” She cannot believe he is treating her this way. She sits on her chair and catches sight of Simon’s eyes behind the shades. He looks sad. He stares down, pursing his lips, his eyebrows tense like when he cannot get what he wants. She knows his expression too well. She puts her large shades on, reclines in the chair, and closes her eyes. After twenty-five years together, she can guess the thoughts behind every single one of his expressions. He wishes he could lay his hands on that young waitress.
“Don’t you wish you could be twenty again sometimes?” he says.
“No thanks. Not for me,” she says, “Youth is overrated.” Jeanine curls her knees up. Her sarong splits open, exposing one of her legs. She caresses it and discovers a small patch of broken veins. She hides it with her hand. She lays her legs flat and pulls the sarong’s flap over them.
“You’re not taking your sarong off?”
“It’s too hot. The sun’s scorching.”
“A little sun. Enjoy it while you can. You need some color.”
“Yeah, and what do you need?”
Surprised, Simon grimaces and rolls over. Pop songs succeed one another on the speakers along with a distracting merry-go-round of tourists walking, arriving, and leaving the pool. He straightens up and rubs his lower back, a look of pain on his face. He checks his body, the bulging stomach, the sunken chest, the flabby arms. Poor Simon, you’re certainly not aging too well. If you only knew how boring and predictable you’ve become. And she gets bored observing him and watches instead the activities around the pool. At times a head pops up in the bright blue shimmering water or a big splash comes and breaks the even surface. Across the pool, she notices the waitress carrying a tray full of cocktails. She is receiving a lot of attention from a group of men, and she laughs with them. The other waitresses look the same. They all wear the same uniform: tight shorts, Hawaiian shirt, perky breasts. All of them pretty. Jeanine was once like that too. And not that long ago. She lies on her stomach. This vacation is not at all what she expected. She was so excited when he told her they were going away. Such a pleasant surprise. She should have known better. This is a disappointment. Maybe this is why he waited so long to take her away, so she would have no suspicious about his behavior when he went away on seminars and conferences and stayed in these modern brothels. She is beginning to understand. He is having an affair. Simon’s head spins around as if he does not want to miss any action around the pool.
The sun is right above them now. Shadows have shrunk. The searing heat makes Jeanine uncomfortable. She ties her hair back and wipes off her sweaty neck. Gone are the days when the heat did not bother her so much. She fans herself with her magazine.
“Hot today,” says Simon.
“Yes, it is,” she says looking straight ahead at the pool.
A minute later, she reaches for the sun tan lotion. She squeezes the bottle and the lotion spurts on to her legs.
“Let me help you.” Simon gets up and spreads the lotion on the back of her thighs. His hands feel soft on her skin, and he is gentle. She jerks when the cold lotion lands on her back. He digs his thumb into her spine, massaging her skin, making sure no spot is left exposed to the brutal sun. He loosens her swimsuit’s straps. A strange feeling pervades her. Never before will he have undone her bra in public. It has been a long time since he has touched her. He is careful not to hurt her. He takes his time rubbing the lotion in. He is so coarse and careless. It is unusual for him to be so careful. She wonders what is going through his mind. She does not want his hands to touch her that way. Perhaps he is thinking about massaging the waitress. She turns around and lies on her back.
“That’s enough,” she says, “thanks.”
He kisses her on the forehead and wants to give her a hug, but she leans forward, opens her bag, and rummages through it.
“Lost something?” he says, looking at her with a big smile.
“I just want to make sure my phone is off.”
“It really is a gorgeous day.” His sunglasses hang on his forehead. He sits back in his chair, takes the lotion, and smears it on himself. Jeanine makes no effort to help him. She looks at his rounded belly and flabby arms and wonders what woman in her right mind will be attracted to him. His hair is gray all over. He has purple heavy bags under his eyes. He looks old and tired. His skin has a translucent tone. She opens her magazine again and tries to read for a while. Simon is reclined on his back and stares at the crowd parading in front of him. Bodies of all shapes and sizes. Colorful swimsuits leaving little to the imagination.
“You could be more discreet,” she says, putting her magazine down.
“About what?”
“Please.”
“I’m watching life. Life’s beautiful. All these things we take for granted.”
Jeanine sighs and slaps her magazine down.
“What’s the matter with you today?” he says.
“And you’re asking me?”
A skinny blond woman with a red bikini passes in front of them and moves toward the pool’s ladder.
“It’s too hot,” says Simon, “I’m going for a swim. Do you want to come?” Simon gets up with a wince and clasps the bottom of his back. He grimaces and offers her his hand. She shakes her head no. He straightens his chest and walks to the edge of the pool. He stands next to the woman in the red bikini. He looks back at Jeanine from the distance and smacks his rounded belly.
“I may look out of shape,” he says, dipping his toes. “But I’m still a pretty good swimmer.” He dives into the water, makes big splashes until he reaches the middle of the pool, and then stops. He floats across the pool on his back and kicks himself back to the edge. She sees him coming out of the water on the other side. He sits on the tiled steps and catches his breath. He comes back to her still panting. His jaw is clenched. His face furrows in pain. His eyes are creased. His mouth stretched back. She is pleased with his failure to impress the red bikini. She has paid no attention to him.
“So much for trying to impress,” she says as he collapses on his mattress. He looks up at the empty blue sky. She glimpses at him through her glasses. He lies on his back for a minute, switches to his abdomen, then his side, then his back again. He scratches his shoulders. She knows he only scratches his shoulders when upset or agitated. He is fuming about something.
Jeanine notices the longhaired waitress coming back towards them. She has been around the pool several times, carrying her plastic tray. She leans forward and asks them if they need something. A gold name-tag dangles on her shirt. Her name is Nanette. Through her hanging shirt, Jeanine sees that she wears a white push-up bra over her perky tanned breasts. Jeanine casts a glance at Simon and catches him looking inside the waitress’s shirt. His face has recovered from the previous effort. He does not look as pale. He is enjoying the sight.
“Sparkling water for me,” mumbles Simon.
“A margarita.”
The waitress writes down the order and walks away.
“It’s a bit early for a drink,” he says.
“Life’s too short. I’m enjoying myself.”
He sits facing her. “I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap for a while.” He takes her hand. “I’m so happy we’ve come here, you know.” She puts her magazine down and looks at him smiling at her. “You look beautiful. I love you.” Simon stretches out and gives her a peck on the lips.
“You’ve been awfully nice to me lately.”
“Maybe we should take a nap together?”
Jeanine smiles back and takes the sun tan lotion and spreads it onto her arm, inspecting her skin as she rubs it in.
“You held my hand when we walked. Do you know when the last time was that you held my hand, anywhere?”
Simon stares at her, his eyebrows hunched. “You’re complaining?”
“I
feel strange when you act this way.”
“We’ve got lots of catching up to do.”
“I’ve known you for twenty-five years. There’s something you’re not telling me. You’ve got something up your sleeve.”
His head drops between his slumped shoulders. He sighs and avoids eye contact. Jeanine wipes the lotion with the back of her hand and opens her magazine again. She waits for a response but Simon remains silent. A young couple walks by. They are playful. The young woman . . .
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