Page 44 of Breathing Under Water

Once we’re about a hundred feet from the house, I start talking.

“I’m really sorry the swim lessons got canceled,” I tell him as we make our way past a white Colonial with blue shutters that looks very similar to the Beckers’ house.

“I’m sorry too,” Leo says. “Was it my fault because of the whistle?” He doesn’t look at me as he waits for my answer.

“I think we all had a hand in it, if you want to know the truth. If I’d been better trained to teach children with autism, I could maybe have prevented Johnny and Lindy from getting so unruly. Those two should have behaved better though. And Rohan shouldn’t have screamed the way he did. Elias shouldn’t have tried to splash anyone. And yes, you should have known that blowing a whistle so loudly and so many times might have made the situation more upsetting for the students, and for the club members too. Each one of us has some responsibility for what happened.”

Leo glances over at me, but when our eyes meet, he quickly looks away, so I keep going. “People make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from our mistakes. We just have to pick up the pieces.” I pause, wondering if that phrase is too theoretical, and then say it another way. “We have to do the best we can to adjust to our new situation and move on.”

“I don’t want to move on,” he says, and for the first time since I arrived, his voice isn’t entirely dry. I can hear a piece of heartbreak in it, and it makes me profoundly sad.

We’re approaching a cross street, where a middle-aged man wearing a Mets t-shirt jogs across our path.

He waves, and I smile back. I watch him for a moment as he makes his way down the street to our right, and then I turn back to Leo.

“My grandmother always says that if you can’t change your circumstance, you should change your attitude.” I feel like a fraud advocating for this approach. My behavior since losing the lessons hasn’t exactly been exemplary.

“I liked teaching swimming,” Leo says. “I want to keep doingit. I want to teach other kids with ASD. My mom wants me to go to a college program where I can learn how to be a teacher, but I was learning with you. I was teaching swimming with you. I want to keep learning with you.”

“Leo, I think you would make an excellent teacher. I could see you working in a classroom with kids, not just as a swim instructor, but as an actual schoolteacher. What a beautiful idea.” And I mean it too. With the exception of the excessive whistling, Leo had been so great with the kids. There must be some training he could get to prepare him to help in a classroom, even if he isn’t the main teacher for the kids. I wince the second I have that thought. Why should I dismiss his aspirations? Who says Leo couldn’t be a lead classroom teacher once he’s gotten the proper training? If his allies are assuming he isn’t capable, how will he ever convince his adversaries?

“I don’t think I could teach in a school. I can’t even make friends.”

“Sure you can make friends,” I tell him. “We’re friends.”

“But you were my teacher. I don’t have any friends who are my age. Sebastian was my friend, but he moved far away.”

“I know a little bit about what that’s like,” I tell him, and he glances toward me with surprise. “Ever since I was little, I was always so busy swimming that I didn’t have time to make real friends at my school. I only got to know the people on my team, really.”

“The only people who like me are younger kids or grown-ups. The kids my age laugh at me, so I don’t talk to them. Except Sebastian, but Sebastian moved away.”

“Well, maybe you’ve only met the wrong kids then.”

“I’ve met a lot of kids. It happens with too many of them.I’m bad at it. Talking to people my age. Even though my age keeps changing. I don’t get better at it.”

I’m not sure how to answer, so I just say the first thing that comes to my mind. “I bet that makes you feel sad.”

He nods.

An SUV is approaching us from the distance, and I notice we’ve drifted toward the middle of the street. I reach out for Leo’s arm but then lower my hand before making contact. “Here, move this way with me,” I say, motioning toward the grassy lawn beside us. “Let’s get out of the path of cars. Do you remember what I told you a couple weeks ago—what my friends and I say to each other when we’re feeling nervous or upset?”

“Yes.”

I wait for him to say more and then smile when I sense that, as usual, he’s only going to answer precisely what has been asked.

“So tell me then. What do we tell each other?”

“No bad days,” he answers.

“You know what I think?” I ask.

“No. I don’t know because you haven’t told me.”

“I think you should be allowed to have bad days and to feel whatever you’re feeling. You don’t have to try so hard to be anything other than who you are. And besides, the bad days help you appreciate the good days. You’re growing and learning every day, and so are the other kids your age. One day soon, you’ll find people out there who’ve been looking for a friend just like you.”

“I don’t know where to look. Maybe you’re the only new friend I’m going to have. Can I stay friends with you?”

“Of course. We can always be friends, but my life is very busy with swimming and school and everything. Now that the lessons are canceled, we might not find much time to hang outtogether. That doesn’t mean we’re not friends. Like you and Sebastian—you can still think of him as a friend even though he’s far away. But I don’t think these friendships are going to be enough for you. You should try to find some other friends who have more time, who are closer to your age, and who can do activities with you. But wherever I am, and no matter how busy, I’ll always be cheering you on.”