Page 33 of Breathing Under Water

McKenna

July 2023

When I pull into a parking spot, shielding my eyes from the morning glare, I realize I’m still grinning like an idiot. I haven’t responded to the text Beck sent after we bumped into each other, but every time I think about it, I end up with a goofy smile on my face. I keep reminding myself there’s no room in my life for something serious. There’s really, really not. But maybe it doesn’t have to be that serious with Beck. All he asked was if I’d want to grab coffee. It’s totally possible he just wants to talk about Leo.

Except I saw the way he looked at me at the restaurant, and I’m fairly certain he wasn’t thinking about his brother. Before I can stop myself, I type out a quick response:

Sure. Time and place?

Then I grab my swim bag from the backseat and head toward the pool.

Now that the kids have gotten used to his picture schedules, Leo’s no longer lugging in the big poster boards. Instead he’s been creating digital versions of the daily schedule. Each afternoon, I send him an email with the next day’s lesson plan writtenout, and then he creates a digital presentation to show the kids on his iPad. Much like their neurotypical counterparts, the kids are happy to look at screens for as long as we let them. I’ve been tempted to add a note in one of my emails to Leo about what a great job he’s doing, how impressed I am by his dedication. I’d love to tell him how I never knew anyone with autism before and how much he’s opened my eyes about kids with special needs. But we’ve built a nice rapport, and I don’t want to get weird on him and ruin it.

I take the last sips from my coffee and toss the paper cup into the trash while Leo arranges his belongings with military precision in one of the cubbies outside the shed. When he rests his iPad on top of his backpack, I assume he’s finished with his usual routine. But then he reaches into the pocket of his trunks and extracts a silver whistle that looks just like mine. He loops the thin cord over his head.

“Hey, twinsies.” I smile, reaching to where my own whistle hangs against my chest and holding it out toward him. “I like it.”

“Leo!” Lindy yells as she and her mother walk through the gate. Mrs. Ortega puts a finger to her lips, shushing the girl. Normally I would shout back not to worry, but the twenty-ninth annual women’s club challenge tennis tournament is beginning in thirty minutes, and the club is already teeming with members. I’m not used to so many people milling about during this hour of the morning, cutting across the pool patio on their way to the courts.

Lindy hurries toward us at the shallow end, pulling off her terrycloth cover-up and dropping it carelessly onto the concrete before heading to the pool steps.

“Hold on, Lindy,” Leo says. “I know you know where you’resupposed to put your dry clothes. AndyouknowIknow you know, so now I know you’ll put it where you know it’s supposed to go.”

Lindy stops in her tracks, dutifully turning around to retrieve her little dress and take it to the peg wall above the cubbies. As I chat for a moment with Mrs. Ortega, more women walk past the pool deck toting large tennis bags across their tanned shoulders. Christine Thomaston, the mother of one of my mini-camp students, gives me a little wave.

As my other students arrive and make their way to the edge of the pool, Leo grabs his iPad and begins the day’s instructions.

As the kids listen, their eyes are fixed on his demonstration. If I’m not mistaken, Matthew, my nonverbal student, is even nodding along as Leo talks. The amount of progress we’ve made in just a few short weeks kind of blows my mind. I can’t believe now that I didn’t want to do this when Kathleen first suggested it. These lessons may just be a moment in time to the kids, but to me, they feel so much bigger. As I continue watching them, my heart really feels like it’s swelling. Maybe that’s why I act impulsively a few moments later.

As soon as the kids have ambled into the water, I call their attention back to me.

“Hey, Marlins, you’ve all been doing so well.” I look from Lindy in her iridescent goggles to Rohan and Matthew, then to Johnny with his wild curls, and finally to Elias, who’s tapping the surface of the water with his finger over and over. Rohan is the only one who meets my eyes, but I’m used to that now. “How about we mix things up today?” I glance at Leo, who’s still making his way down the steps. His eyes widen in surprise at my words, but I nod at him to let him know I’ve got this. “Afterthe four minutes of warm-up kicking on the wall, why don’t we do kickboard races across the width of the pool?”

It’s a complete departure from what Leo told them we were going to do. But the kids have been really well-behaved for the past few sessions, and I can see how hard they’ve been trying to learn. I think they’ve earned themselves some fun, and I want to give that to them.

“Hooray!” Johnny shouts with delight, and I’m gratified by his response even as I notice both Matthew and Leo flinch at Johnny’s loud volume. “I’m fastest!” he continues. “Yay, races!” Then he repeats himself, turning the words into a chant. “Yay, races! Yay, races! Yay, races!”

It only takes a moment for Lindy to chime in and start hollering the words along with Johnny.

“Okay, okay.” I raise my arms, trying to get their attention and quiet them, but they persist, ignoring me.

“Yay, races! Yay, races! Yay, races!” They’re bouncing up and down in the water as they chant, creating small splashes with each jump.

Matthew’s face twists in annoyance at the growing racket. He smacks his hand through the water toward Johnny, clearly intending to splash him, but the water hits Rohan in the face instead.

“Hey!” Rohan shouts at him. “You can’t splash me. He splashed me!” He turns and looks up toward me. “Miss McKenna, tell him!”

Before I respond, Matthew covers his ears and turns his back to all of us, just standing there in the shallow water, waiting for all the noises to stop.

Then Rohan whacks his hand into the water like Matthew did,sending a forceful splash wave back toward Matthew. It douses not only its intended target, but Elias as well.

The kids know intentional splashing isn’t allowed, and I need to say as much to them, but it’s hard to focus as Lindy and Johnny continue in chorus, “Yay, races! Yay, races! Yay, races!”

Elias has his hands over his eyes and is shouting now too. “He got water in my eyes. I need a towel! I need a towel! Towel! Towel! Towel!”

At the growing cacophony in the pool, Leo hurries back up the steps, and I assume he’s getting the towel for Elias. But when he reaches the top step, he grabs the whistle hanging around his neck and blows so forcefully that everyone is startled into silence. All eyes land on Leo. Unfortunately, as soon as Johnny understands where the shrill sound came from, he immediately resumes his chanting. Lindy follows suit, and Elias starts screaming for his towel all over again.

“Yay, races! Yay, races!”