The Roessler Pool advertised its swimming lessons in local news rags or in the back pages of amateur theater programs.\u00a0 These advertisements, no bigger than two postage stamps, were always the same: a black cartoon cat hung midair over a cartoon lake, fur electric with terror, eyes popped out of his skull.\u00a0 \u201cWe specialize in scaredy cats of all ages,\u201d read the copy.\u00a0 In miniscule print underneath, \u201cWWII Veterans Swim Free.\u201d\u00a0 No address, just a phone number to call.\u00a0 I\u2019d found this same advertisement in the playbills handed out at the seasonal concerts staged at my sister\u2019s church.<\/p>\n
One morning I said some very cruel things to my sister.\u00a0 While she lay weeping and quivering on her kitchen floor, I went into her husband\u2019s study, phoned the Roessler Pool and signed up for my pro-bono lessons.<\/p>\n
The woman on the other end was Helen.\u00a0 She asked my age\u2014twenty-eight\u2014and put me down for Can\u2019t-Swim-At-All Group B, Wednesday mornings at 7:00am.\u00a0 She said I\u2019d already missed a session, but would catch up, as the second class was mostly review.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t tell me,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cYour name is Dave.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cDave,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cHa!\u00a0 That\u2019s funny.\u201d<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
As it turned out, the Roessler Pool was way the hell down in Palos Verdes\u2014foggy town without streetlights\u2014a thirty-four-mile trek from where I lived at my sister\u2019s place on Coldwater Canyon.\u00a0 The Pool was quite a place, though, the whole facility built literally into a cliff, its foundational pilings sunk into the bedrock of the mighty Pacific itself.\u00a0 From the dark parking lot that served its patrons, the Roessler Pool was invisible.\u00a0 No sign marked the place; no lamp heralded the point of entry.\u00a0 I found it by the sheer serendipity of following another swimmer\u2019s taillights.\u00a0 He parked and I parked in front of a high, ivy-ridden fence, and as the sun rose behind us, I watched this other man get out of his car and trot across the asphalt to a place in the fence where there was a hidden gate.\u00a0 He felt around for the latch, then opened the leafy aperture and disappeared behind it.<\/p>\n
I sat trembling in my car for a minute more, finishing a cigarette, suppressing a nauseating impetus to flee.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
I was a person who, by his nature, sank.<\/p>\n
My father had tried to teach me to swim, and not in the cruel survivalist manner of the men of his generation, either.\u00a0 He waded into pools with me, held me up with his large hands, encouraged me to move my limbs, reminded me that even dogs could swim.\u00a0 I gagged, coughed, vomited, cried.\u00a0 The water entered my head and swirled in a cold ribbon down my spine.\u00a0 Again and again my father yanked me up and pounded on my back, his own face wet and panicked.\u00a0 Finally, when I was about ten, my mother\u2014watching this exercise for the umpteenth time\u2014charged into the pool fully clothed and rescued me.\u00a0 She asked God to forgive my father\u2019s stupidity.\u00a0 That was the end of that.<\/p>\n
Whatever impulse drove me to sign up for swimming lessons, then, was closer to irony than to hope, and when I emerged from the pool house and saw, for the first time, the Roessler Pool and felt the powerful threat of the ocean roaring just below its deck and heard the screeching of the gulls overhead, I knew for certain that I would not<\/em> do it, that I would not<\/em> enter that cold blue shimmer for any reason or on anybody\u2019s account.<\/p>\n Four other men were assembled on a bench beside the pool.\u00a0 One of them, a tall fellow with a toothy smile, came over and extended a hand:\u00a0 \u201cHow goes it?\u00a0 Cold enough for you?\u201d\u00a0 I shook his hand and my fate was sealed.\u00a0 Coward to the marrow, I would<\/em> get into the pool, wouldn\u2019t I?\u00a0 He led me forward to meet the others\u2014an arthritic who seemed unable to move his neck; a young pimply kid; and a swarthy, curly-haired man who looked about my age.\u00a0 All of them eyed me, nodding, acknowledging the frigid air.\u00a0 \u201cHoly crap it\u2019s really freezing,\u201d said the toothy guy.<\/p>\n A woman emerged from the pool house and took command of us.\u00a0 \u201cMight as well get wet, gentlemen.\u201d\u00a0 She was a blunt, almost totally cylindrical person in her early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a rapid, surefooted gait.\u00a0 Her skin was tanned, but not so darkly that you couldn\u2019t see knotted purple veins at the backs of her knees.\u00a0 She wore a white terry bathing suit cover\u2014a sleeveless shift that zippered up the front\u2014and a whistle around her neck, like a coach.\u00a0 It was seven o\u2019clock sharp.<\/p>\n I folded my towel into a tight square and left it on the bench.\u00a0 Moving toward the water, I felt the considerable weight of my skeleton.<\/p>\n \u201cJump in quick,\u201d said the woman.\u00a0 She had an armload of wooden kickboards.\u00a0 \u201cWhere\u2019s the new fellow?\u201d<\/p>\n I raised my hand, then sat myself on the edge of the pool with the others.\u00a0 In the water my feet took on the light green tint of corpse flesh.<\/p>\n \u201cDave, Dave, Dave, and Dave\u2014meet Dave,\u201d she said, pointing to me.\u00a0 She put down her kickboards and crouched beside me.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m Helen,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cAnother Dave?\u00a0 You gotta be kidding me,\u201d said the swarthy man, Dave, wincing, lowering his frozen ass into the drink.<\/p>\n \u201cMy name is Eugene,\u201d said the arthritic man, climbing down the metal ladder.\u00a0 His lips were purple. \u201cBut I\u2019ve always gone by Dave.\u201d<\/p>\n The pimply kid looked down into the pool for some suspenseful seconds before letting himself drop into it.\u00a0 He turned to the wall and hung on.<\/p>\n Helen strung a rope across the pool.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019re going to keep to the shallow end again today, gentlemen.\u00a0 Pay attention, and don\u2019t be afraid to stop me and ask questions.\u201d<\/p>\n Toothy Dave, the glad-hander, leaped feet-first into the water with a rude splash.\u00a0 \u201cAw fuck,\u201d he said, laughing.<\/p>\n I was the last.\u00a0 I slid myself in, gonads gripped in an icy fist.<\/p>\n Arthritic Dave elbowed me:\u00a0 \u201cWho brought the schnapps, huh?\u201d\u00a0 His bathing trunks, billowing around him, hung onto a square margin of hips under his belly.\u00a0 His chest was shot with red age spots.<\/p>\n \u201cReview!\u201d yelled Helen.\u00a0 She distributed the kickboards.\u00a0 \u201cWhat\u2019s the number one rule about breathing underwater?\u201d<\/p>\n Toothy Dave raised his hand.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t do it!\u201d he shouted.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s right, gentlemen.\u00a0 Very important.\u00a0 You do not have gills.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n The lesson was forty-five minutes of kicking and paddling, chins eked above the water.\u00a0 Afterward I felt warm and thirsty.\u00a0 The other Daves hurried to the pool house where they had lockers full of soap and clean clothes, but it had not occurred to me that life would continue post-swimming-lesson, and so I clambered back up to my sister\u2019s car wrapped in my towel, trunks dripping.<\/p>\n Sissy\u2019s car was a 1951 Nash Airflyte Rambler Convertible Landau with Ultradrive, a Sky-Lounge Safety interior, Weather-Eye, radio and heat.\u00a0 Custard yellow, it was brand new last year.\u00a0 Her husband drove a Cadillac, a car he kept all to himself.\u00a0 Sissy permitted me to drive the Rambler before noon, because she rarely left the house until lunchtime, and because she believed it was difficult for a man to get dangerously drunk in the AM.\u00a0 I appreciated the Rambler\u2014a splendid thrumming creature.\u00a0 Driving home, I did what I could to keep the seats dry.<\/p>\n My sister\u2019s place, located near Coldwater\u2019s apogee in the Santa Monica Mountains, was a big palooza, fake French revival behind a wrought iron gate.\u00a0 Its long brick driveway plunged downhill along the slope of the property to the garage.\u00a0 Behind this:\u00a0 a broad lawn and an elaborate terraced garden complete with lanai, sun patio, brick barbecue, and gardener\u2019s cottage.<\/p>\n When I got home Sho, the gardener, was scouring the lawn.\u00a0 He crouched on his knees and elbows so he could really examine the leaves of grass\u2014mind-numbing work, but the lawn was a wonder, a Persian carpet of emerald silk.\u00a0 When you walked across it, it buoyed your feet, propelled you on your way.\u00a0 An amazing, vivid, flawless lawn.\u00a0 Nothing irked me more than watching my fat sister, her fat husband and her fat friends walking across Sho\u2019s lawn in their fat goddamn shoes.<\/p>\n Sho lived somewhere near Bundy and Sawtelle, so my sister housed me, as she had for the past four years, in the gardener\u2019s cottage.\u00a0 I figured that, like the shovels and rakes hooked to the side of my abode, I was at Sho\u2019s disposal.<\/p>\n On the way to my quarters, I waved at the master.\u00a0 \u201cHello old man,\u201d I said.\u00a0 Sho didn\u2019t acknowledge me, such was his concentration.\u00a0 I went into the cottage, showered, dressed, drank a Coca-Cola, and then, in my bare feet, I headed out to help scour the lawn.<\/p>\n \u201cFind these,\u201d said Sho, holding up a tiny weed that looked just like grass.\u00a0 He came over and put the thing in my hand.\u00a0 \u201cYou can\u2019t find it by seeing,\u201d he said.\u00a0 He closed his eyes, meaning I should close mine, and then he passed his palms over a patch of lawn, grabbed my hand and showed me where.\u00a0 I felt a light scratch on the tip of my middle finger.\u00a0 \u201cThere,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 He pointed to the weed and let me pull it out.\u00a0 \u201cToday we work like Helen Keller,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cAffirmative,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cGood,\u201d said Sho.<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t smile.\u00a0 He almost never did.\u00a0 In the garden he was all business and nothing but.\u00a0 Once upon a time, Sho was an accountant.\u00a0 He and his wife had had a nice place out in Pasadena, but like all professional Japanese in California, he had been transformed, by the black magic of war, into a man who tended gardens.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n I determined I would not go to any more swimming lessons.\u00a0 To celebrate this decision, I hiked down Coldwater and caught a bus to The Observatory, a bar I liked on Sunset.\u00a0 Hollywood at happy hour was always a jolt, even on a Wednesday night:\u00a0 the gleaming cars packed nose-to-tailpipe against the curb, the pop tops and sharky fins, the Diamond Deluxe headlights for unsurpassed night vision.\u00a0 And out of the bellies of these, the men from the office, the big tippers in gabardine and Hathaway, Silverwoods and Orbachs, their Oxfords polished this morning by the whistling negro kid\u2014Chattenoogie Shoe Shine Boy!<\/em>\u2014their hair held down against the velocity of business dealings by a dab of the Wild Root.\u00a0 On the sidewalk, they saluted one another as Buster or Mack, Buddy or Pal:\u00a0 Whaddya know?\u00a0 Another goddamn beautiful day!<\/em> Guys on the make had stopped off for shaves, their faces steamed to a ruddy vigor.\u00a0 Their girls had fluttered in from Buffums and Mays, Bullocks, and Haggarty\u2019s, fanning themselves with gloved hands and clutch purses, gushing about how they were ready, how they had never been more ready<\/em> for a cigarette and a cocktail.<\/p>\n The Observatory was an astronomical joint:\u00a0 the walls and the ceiling rigged to resemble a starry night, small points of light beaming from behind a front of black velvet.\u00a0 The napkins read, \u201cWhat\u2019s your sign?\u201d and there was a round astrological chart on the wall to help you answer the question.\u00a0 On Friday and Saturday nights, a couple of waitresses dressed up in green hats topped by radio antennae.\u00a0 That was a lark.\u00a0 Oscar, the barkeep and sole proprietor, was by-and-large a serious fellow, serious about his bar, serious about his coin collection\u2014we shared an interest in numismatics\u2014and serious about astronomy.\u00a0 Up on the bar\u2019s roof he kept an actual telescope, a huge thing wrapped in tarps and tied with ropes.\u00a0 On a clear night, at closing, if lingering customers were not too drunk, he\u2019d take them up there and show them some heavenly bodies.<\/p>\n Myself, I\u2019d never seen any.<\/p>\n I sat down and ordered a Gimlet.\u00a0 \u201cOscar,\u201d I said, \u201cI\u2019m taking swimming lessons.\u201d I had another drink, another and then a beer, because I was taking it easy.\u00a0 A girl I knew, Rosemary, came in and we had a couple and maybe a couple more.\u00a0 Rosemary said she was a Pisces, loved to swim, always had, should have been born a fish or an otter or something, could hold her breath for a shockingly long time, which she did, sitting beside me, her cheeks distended, her eyes watering.\u00a0 I thought I could hear wind whistling in and out of her ears.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t do<\/em> that,\u201d I said.\u00a0 I was holding onto the back of my barstool like it was one of Helen\u2019s kickboards.\u00a0 Oscar poured.\u00a0 The tiny lights in the Observatory\u2019s ceiling began to dissolve in the corners of my eyes, and the ice at the bottom of my highball looked a long way down through the swirling murk.\u00a0 By then, Rosemary was gone, and somehow I\u2019d cut my finger.\u00a0 Oscar gave me a wad of napkins and told me to squeeze.<\/p>\n Body and blood, I thought. \u00a0Dear Jesus!\u00a0 My sister saw me as her mission.\u00a0 She was a Christian, god bless her.\u00a0 Our parents were dead.\u00a0 Sissy claimed that the last thing each one of them did on this earth was to ask her to look after me, though I was an able-bodied, grown man of twenty-five years by the time I was orphaned.\u00a0 Sissy took me in.\u00a0 Her husband argued against me.\u00a0 I was a pain.\u00a0 Plus, he wanted to raze the gardener\u2019s cottage and build a bomb shelter.\u00a0 My sister\u2019s husband was a film producer who could bring in a war picture, on time and under budget.\u00a0 Against all these odds, on my behalf, Sissy stood firm.<\/p>\n Oscar pointed out I was making a mess with my bloody napkins.\u00a0 \u201cJackass,\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cShow me some heavenly bodies.\u201d<\/p>\n He said, \u201cNot tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n How would I get home?\u00a0 By cab, sure, but whose cab, and by what route?\u00a0 I liked to think it was the same guy every time who took me home, the one who reminded me to take off my shoes before I walked across Sho\u2019s lawn.\u00a0 Somebody reminded me, because when I went on a binge I was too drunk to remind myself.\u00a0 I always found my shoes laid neatly beside the garage, after I woke flat-fuck-face-down on the floor of the cottage with my head full of chains, my feet stuffed in nothing but my socks.\u00a0 Maybe I\u2019d lost my wallet, or my jacket, or my glasses.\u00a0 It was better if I\u2019d puked on Sunset.\u00a0 It was better if I couldn\u2019t remember whether or not the night had been starry and clear.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n Why should a man who has lived all his life without swimming, who has survived his part in a World War without swimming, who sees no future need for swimming, who\u2014indeed\u2014has decided against swimming, continue to take on the challenge?<\/p>\n Let me go back:\u00a0 Sho and I were in the garden pulling weeds like Helen Keller, blind and deaf\u2014sure\u2014our other senses canine sharp.<\/p>\n \u201cYou smell clean,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 \u201cYou smell like bleach.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was swimming,\u201d I said.\u00a0 It had turned into the most beautiful kind of day, cool, the sky clear as washed glass.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m taking lessons.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t swim?\u201d asked Sho.<\/p>\n \u201cIs there something wrong with your ears?\u00a0 I said I was learning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s good,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 \u201cA man should know how to swim.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yes?\u201d I said.\u00a0 I opened my eyes and quit weeding by Braille.\u00a0 \u201cWhy\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n Sho stopped, too, and sat up, a touch annoyed.\u00a0 \u201cFor pleasure,\u201d he said, as though that should have been as obvious to me as himself, right there next to me, sweating in his ridiculous straw hat.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n Helen said we were going to learn to put our heads in the water.\u00a0 We were all assembled, shivering in the pool.\u00a0 Helen assured us that swimming was as easy as smoking.\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhen we inhale the air,\u201d said Helen, \u201cwe inhale it deeply, the way a person does, getting his money out of his cigarette.\u00a0 And then we blow the smoke out underwater in big puffs.\u201d\u00a0 She unzipped her bathing suit cover and tossed it aside, seeming not to know that it might mean something to the five men in the pool, watching her strip like that.\u00a0 She revealed a red bathing suit, round as an oil drum, thick straps over the arms, hardware built into the bust.\u00a0 Without pause, she jumped into the pool and bounced over to where we stood.<\/p>\n I thought I saw tears welling in the eyes of Dave, the frightened pimply kid, but I had my own problems, standing there trying to find the fortitude to pull myself out of the pool, to wave good-bye, to say, To hell with all you goddamn lunatics.<\/em><\/p>\n Helen positioned herself at the wall with her arms extended, her solid body suspended impossibly across the surface of the water.\u00a0 She kicked her legs lightly and, blowing air out through her mouth and nose, she laid her face in the pool.\u00a0 Bubbles boiled around her chops.\u00a0 After a few seconds, she raised her head for a big breath.<\/p>\n \u201cNow you try it,\u201d she said.\u00a0 We all held onto the wall and kicked our legs, following Helen\u2019s lead.\u00a0 She put her face in the water again\u2014but, to a man, the Daves kept their noses dry.<\/p>\n Helen popped up out of the water and wiped her eyes.\u00a0 \u201cCome on now, gentlemen.\u00a0 I <\/em>already know how to swim.\u201d<\/p>\n She watched us put our faces in the water, one at a time and then as a group.\u00a0 It was unpleasant.<\/p>\n \u201cNow let\u2019s go for a swim,\u201d said Helen.\u00a0 She took young Dave\u2019s hands.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cNo, no.\u201d<\/p>\n But Helen had him in her clutches.\u00a0 She towed him out into the center of the shallow end, telling him to kick, kick, kick.\u00a0 \u201cInhale!\u201d shouted Helen, and she pulled him out long across the water.\u00a0 \u201cBlow!\u201d she yelled, and then she tugged his arms down.\u00a0 His head dipped under.\u00a0 After a brief struggle, he came up gasping and stunned.<\/p>\n \u201cSomebody give this kid a cigarette,\u201d shouted Helen, clapping her hands.<\/p>\n Weakly, we applauded young Dave.\u00a0 He waded back to our ranks, looking pale.<\/p>\n Next, toothy Dave:\u00a0 \u201cWhat you don\u2019t do for your kids,\u201d he said.\u00a0 Helen yanked him away from his place at the wall.<\/p>\n \u201cInhale!\u201d<\/p>\n He went down and came up in a fit of splashing.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re getting the hang of it,\u201d said Helen.\u00a0 It was the first time we\u2019d heard her lie.<\/p>\n She took my hands.<\/p>\n I felt the weight of my long bones, granite beams inside my flesh compelling me to stay exactly where I was.\u00a0 But Helen was a regular John Henry.\u00a0 She heaved my impossibly dense body out into the middle of the pool.\u00a0 I sensed black wings flapping in my peripheral vision and then down I went\u2014down, down, into a confusion of churning bubbles.\u00a0 I heard some kind of aluminum clanging, like cheap spoons hung in a tree.\u00a0 All at once I was up in the air again, Helen pulling me forward.<\/p>\n \u201cInhale!\u201d\u00a0 She dunked me back down into the water.\u00a0 The cold ribbons of death snaked into my ears and nose.\u00a0 I tried to twist my wrists from Helen\u2019s grip, and I stretched my neck up high.<\/p>\n Inhale!\u201d shouted Helen, submerging me again.\u00a0 I sank fast, watched my own breath streaming out of my body.\u00a0 But then I calmed.\u00a0 Maybe I\u2019d given up.\u00a0 Maybe I was just too tired of struggling and figured Helen would save me.\u00a0 Either way, I just went limp, and I noticed it was quiet down there, an absolute enclosure of blue peace and quiet.\u00a0 I glided up.<\/p>\n Helen and I, we had crossed the pool.<\/p>\n I shook the water from my head and pinched my eyes dry.<\/p>\n Grinning, Helen punched me in the upper arm.\u00a0 \u201cNice work, Charlie,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n There were pomegranates on Sis\u2019s trees.\u00a0 She wanted a bowl of them for the centerpiece on her dining room table, but otherwise, she said Sho could have them.\u00a0 We worked hard, thinning the Clevia, mulching the Jasmine, packing brush into canvas sacks.\u00a0 At lunch we broke open a couple of the big fruits.\u00a0 I told Sho about my new name, and I gnawed at my pomegranate without grace.<\/p>\n \u201cYou should be practicing your swimming,\u201d said Sho.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know how long it takes to get to Palos Verdes?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have the ocean right there,\u201d said Sho, pointing west.\u00a0 He spit a clot of seeds into a handkerchief.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re nuts,\u201d I said.\u00a0 I had pomegranate juice dripping off the point of my elbow.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019d drown in forty seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n Sho lifted a yellow membrane with his nail and unveiled a ruby trove.\u00a0 He said, \u201cWe used to have a swimming pool.\u201d<\/p>\n I hated it when Sho talked about the past; I liked the dead to stay where they were.<\/p>\n \u201cThe first house,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cThe small house.\u00a0 It had a swimming pool, with little round tiles.\u201d\u00a0 Sho made a hole with his thumb and forefinger, size of a dime.\u00a0 \u201cBut you don\u2019t want a swimming pool,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cHow come?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFinancial liability,\u201d he said, lifting his pomegranate to his teeth.\u00a0 He took a juicy bite and wiped his chin with his wrist.\u00a0 \u201cBut,\u201d he said, chewing.\u00a0 He spit more seeds into his hanky.\u00a0 \u201cSometimes we used to go out there, my wife and I, on a warm night.\u00a0 She had one of those floating things.\u201d\u00a0 Sho took off his big straw hat and dabbed at his forehead with the hem of his shirt.\u00a0 His hair stood up in grey bunches on top.\u00a0 \u201cA life-preserver,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t want to hear any more.\u00a0 All stories about Sho\u2019s wife had, necessarily, a tragic ending; she was gone, one way or another\u2014left him, or passed away maybe; I didn\u2019t know\u2014and his two daughters were unmarried, working jobs that ruined their hands.<\/p>\n \u201cShe liked to throw ice cubes in the water, the ice cubes from her drink,\u201d Sho said.\u00a0 He took another bite of his ancient fruit, as though it didn\u2019t matter that I\u2019d entered his thoughts and that we were having the same moonlit vision of his young wife, naked, laughing, her breasts pressed up against the front of the life preserver, her small hand digging into her glass of scotch or vodka for ice cubes and tossing them out onto the shimmering surface of the water, while Sho, King of Comedy, grabbed at them, letting them shoot out of his hands like slick fish.<\/p>\n A memory like that could fill a man with cataclysmic longing, the kind that snuffed out the rest of whatever life might have to offer.\u00a0 Why did Sho embark on these Kamikaze missions?\u00a0 I felt a hot impulse to say something\u2014anything\u2014that might get us both out of the goddamn pool.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to that house?\u201d I asked, finally, my voice tight.<\/p>\n \u201cProbably it\u2019s still there,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 He shrugged, put on his straw hat and rubbed the tips of his fingers on his workpants.\u00a0 \u201cWhen the girls were small my wife was afraid of a drowning.\u00a0 So in Pasadena we bought a house with a tennis court.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n All week I felt it coming, my sister\u2019s concern, her deep sympathy.\u00a0 I saw her gazing out the kitchen window at the gardener\u2019s cottage.\u00a0 I knew that she had been considering her words carefully.\u00a0 I imagined her on her melon-sized knees, praying for guidance, then laboring back onto her feet.<\/p>\n She crossed the lawn, wearing destructive shoes of navy suede.<\/p>\n \u201cHello David.\u201d<\/p>\n Why knock on the door if you\u2019re just going to let yourself in?<\/p>\n \u201cHow are you?\u201d she said.\u00a0 Oh, the genuine concern, the peaked eyebrows.\u00a0 She was carrying a large basket\u2014full, no doubt, of nutritious food.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m well,\u201d I said.\u00a0 I sat in the kitchenette, at a card table set with a bowl of vinegar and a container of Morton\u2019s salt, cleaning coins.<\/p>\n She put her basket on top of the refrigerator and planted herself on one of the folding chairs across from mine.\u00a0 The vinyl upholstery hissed.\u00a0 \u201cThey miss you over at Bible Study,\u201d she said, smiling at me.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll probably go back,\u201d I lied.<\/p>\n Sis waited with her lips shut tight and smoothed her skirt over the tops of her bulky legs.\u00a0 \u201cThere\u2019s no obligation to study the Bible,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s a gift and a privilege.\u00a0 I brought you some chicken.\u201d \u201cAnd some olive loaf and cheese for your lunches.\u00a0 Obligated to me, the minister or obligated to the Lord?\u00a0 I\u2019m just curious.\u201d<\/p>\n I began scratching the side of my head.\u00a0 The itch spread down my neck into my shirt.\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI feel zero obligation to the Lord,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n Sis sighed.\u00a0 She reached over and stopped my hand from scratching.\u00a0 I swatted her away.<\/p>\n When we were kids, Sissy wanted to be a missionary.\u00a0 We were all very proud.\u00a0 At home every evening Mother and Sissy and I knelt and prayed for those who had not yet embraced their own salvation.\u00a0 In the mornings we prayed for ourselves, that we might walk the path of righteousness all day.\u00a0 We prayed at church, of course, and over our meals, and if an ambulance happened to streak by, wherever we were, we stopped and prayed hard.\u00a0 Mother said our family had a radio signal straight to God; if we were praying for you, He was bound to get the message.<\/p>\n \u201cDavid,\u201d said Sis.\u00a0 \u201cI do think the Lord feels a deep obligation to you<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n I kept quiet, figuring eventually she\u2019d leave.\u00a0 But my sister knew where to stick her pins.<\/p>\n \u201cMr. Ito says that you\u2019ve been taking swimming lessons.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you have to know everything I do?\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cSho volunteered this information?\u00a0 Or are you paying him to spy on me?\u201d\u00a0 I was up out of my chair, with nowhere to go.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u00a0 I asked him where he thought you might be taking the car in the middle of the night,\u201d says Sis.\u00a0 She stretched her chin out and looked into the bowl on the table, at the coin submerged in its acid-sodium solution.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s a pretty one,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou said I could use that car before noon.\u00a0 You gave me a goddamn key, and you set your goddamn rules.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was just wondering where you were off to, David.\u00a0 What kind of coin is that?\u00a0 It has a bird on it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a phoenix, you dumb sow,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n Sissy stood and blew an errant thread of blonde hair out of her face.\u00a0 \u201cWell, I think it\u2019s wonderful that you\u2019re learning to swim.\u00a0 I think it\u2019s wonderful for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShut up,\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cYou don\u2019t know anything about it, so shut up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI love you too, honey,\u201d she said, and then, finally, she left.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n Helen persisted in calling me Charlie.<\/p>\n \u201cRough night, Charlie?\u201d<\/p>\n Truth is, I\u2019d done nothing more scandalous than drink a few beers and lie awake worrying about whether I should or should not come to another swimming lesson.\u00a0 In the end, unable to make a decision and unable to sleep, I couldn\u2019t stop myself from going.\u00a0 I was awake anyway, I figured, so I crossed Sho\u2019s dewy lawn with a grocery bag full of clothes and soap, and I fired up the Rambler.<\/p>\n \u201cToday we will swim the Australian Crawl,\u201d said Helen.\u00a0 \u201cIt won\u2019t be pretty right away, gentlemen, but three weeks from now you\u2019ll feel like you\u2019ve been doing it all your lives.\u201d\u00a0 Helen gave us an on-deck demonstration.\u00a0 She arranged herself, belly-down on the concrete, arched like a saucer, feet fluttering, bust suspended just above terra firma.\u00a0 Swinging her arms in big arcs over her head, she showed us how we should breathe by turning our heads to the side.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s a controlled, more relaxed movement than stretching your neck up like a turkey\u2019s.\u201d\u00a0 Helen stretched her neck up like a turkey\u2019s.<\/p>\n Arthritic Dave raised his hand and pointed to his petrified spine.<\/p>\n \u201cOh you,\u201d said Helen.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m going to teach you the Side Stroke.\u201d\u00a0 She jumped into the pool.<\/p>\n One by one she taught us, holding up our bodies like planks.\u00a0 She put a hand under my chest and another under my thigh.\u00a0 She said, \u201cIt\u2019s like someone\u2014someone great\u2014has tapped you on the shoulder, Charlie, and you\u2019re going to see who it is.\u00a0 Now, kick,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cBlow.\u201d\u00a0 I put my face in the water and blew; I kicked; I turned my head to see who was there.\u00a0 \u201cHallelujah!\u201d shouted Helen, her face full of real joy.\u00a0 \u201cLet\u2019s do it again.\u201d\u00a0 So I did it again.<\/p>\n After the lesson the Daves and I went about our business in the locker room.\u00a0 Toothy Dave gave young Dave some tips on fighting, touting the left hook and the element of surprise.\u00a0 Arthritic Dave swallowed a small swarm of pills.\u00a0 Over at the sinks, swarthy Dave lathered his face and tackled his unstoppable beard with a safety razor.<\/p>\n Young Dave practiced his moves, and seemed for the first time a little less dour.\u00a0 But toothy Dave turned around and snapped his towel at the boy\u2019s knees.\u00a0 \u201cTake that!\u201d he said.\u00a0 The kid did not laugh.<\/p>\n I buttoned my pants.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your line?\u201d Swarthy Dave asked, looking at me in the mirror, his face half shorn.<\/p>\n \u201cMe?\u201d I said.\u00a0 I was feeling good.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m an astronomer,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n It was a clear, windy night.<\/p>\n I brought Oscar a Salzburg 3 Kreutzer dated 1691.\u00a0 The man was so excited he mixed me a Manhattan, on the house.<\/p>\n \u201cYou just carrying that goddamn thing around with you in your pocket?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI had it in my boot for most of the War,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n Oscar laughed.\u00a0 The place was packed, but he got out his magnifying glass and stood staring at the coin under the bright, cash register light.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s Saint Rupert on the front,\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cI still have to find out about the coat of arms on the back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOldest piece of the world I\u2019ve ever held in my hand,\u201d said Oscar.\u00a0 \u201cNot counting rocks.<\/p>\n Motioning to one of his waitresses\u2014come here, dollface<\/em>\u2014he ducked into his office, then returned carrying a small cellophane sleeve for my coin.\u00a0 He put the coin inside and sealed it for me.<\/p>\n \u201cYou ought to have some respect for history for chrissake,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cYou selling that thing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure,\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cSometime.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou had it appraised?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, keep me posted.\u201d\u00a0 He pointed both his index fingers at me and walked away to tend his bar.<\/p>\n The bourbon felt warm in my throat and the glass tumbler it came in contained a thousand starry lights.\u00a0 I pushed the enveloped 3 Kreutzer around with my finger and thought about very little except that it might be nice to meet a woman.<\/p>\n And lo!\u00a0 A woman tapped me on the shoulder and spoke to me.\u00a0 I turned.\u00a0 This bodacious, busty brunette in red lipstick and polka dots, it seemed, had been standing behind me at the bar.<\/p>\n \u201cYou collect those?\u201d she said, leaning in, pointing at my rare coin.\u00a0 \u201cWhere\u2019d you get it?\u201d<\/p>\n She wasn\u2019t flirting.\u00a0 Her face\u2014a round face of Midwestern geography, rolling hills of cheek and nose\u2014showed serious interest.\u00a0 She squinted, trying maybe to identify the language printed on the coin, and revealed the top row of her very substantial looking teeth.\u00a0 Here was a carnivore if ever I saw one, a steak eater, a real survivor.\u00a0 I liked her at once.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t remember how I got this one,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n The truth was I\u2019d stolen it, and I could have said so.\u00a0 It\u2019s no great secret.\u00a0 I stole a lot of things in Europe\u2014coins mostly because I knew something about them, had been interested in them as a boy.\u00a0 Coins were portable and people\u2019s personal collections were easy to find in their dressers or jewelry boxes or under their beds or stashed among their books.\u00a0 I picked up some nice Tiddlywinks in that war: a hefty handful of loose change from ancient Greece and Rome, more than fifty hand-struck coins from the dark ages, up through the Age of Enlightenment, and some gold coins, too\u2014a very fine seventeenth century Seville 8 Escudos cob in near mint condition with pictures of lions and stars in the rosette.\u00a0 The 3 Kreutzer was the least of it.\u00a0 I used to tell this joke about myself, an old standard of mine, when I spoke of my participation in warfare:\u00a0 Killing and raping were not for me.\u00a0 But pillaging!<\/em><\/p>\n I didn\u2019t feel like telling my joke.\u00a0 This woman\u2014a girl really, with her still slightly pudgy hands\u2014reminded me of someone important.\u00a0 Only later, lying belly up on Sho\u2019s lawn, would I realize that with her Wisconsin face, her busty figure, her blunt fingers and her straightforward question she might have been Helen\u2019s daughter.\u00a0 I wish, now, that I had introduced myself to her as Charlie, that I had stayed around and heard her laugh or yell \u201cHallelujah!\u201d\u00a0 That would have been nice.\u00a0 Instead I stood, pocketed my coin, dropped a buck on the bar for Oscar and offered her my seat.<\/p>\n Oscar looked at me surprised, his best customer taking off on him so early.\u00a0 Well, I felt good and warm, a little bit sleepy.\u00a0 And I wanted to look at some stars.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n When I got back to my sister\u2019s place it wasn\u2019t yet half-past eight\u2014early enough, I guess, but I didn\u2019t expect to find Sho\u2019s truck in the driveway, himself busy tending the cactus up in the brick planter boxes behind the custom barbecue.\u00a0 He had a flashlight.<\/p>\n \u201cGo home old man,\u201d I called.<\/p>\n Sho motioned to me with his light.\u00a0 \u201cCome here,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cSee this.\u201d<\/p>\n I took off my shoes and jogged over.\u00a0 I climbed the patio steps, then jumped up over the barbecue.\u00a0 Sho had<\/em> been home, I saw, and had come back washed and spit-polished.\u00a0 He wore a pressed white shirt, a cardigan sweater and a pair of slacks.\u00a0 In the moonlight, his hair shone with pomade, and he smelled of Old Spice.<\/p>\n \u201cMoonflower,\u201d he said, shining his light on a sunset-colored bloom trumpeting from the side of a slim cactus.\u00a0 \u201cOnly blooms in the moonlight and only blooms once.\u00a0 I thought<\/em> tonight is the night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTonight\u2019s the night,\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cLook at that.\u201d\u00a0 Big as a soup bowl, this raucous flower, petals fanned out like feathers in a duster, like the skirts of a cancan girl thrown high.\u00a0 I felt a stab of its desperate joy.<\/p>\n Sho handed me the flashlight and climbed out of the planter box.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are you going?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted to see it and I saw it,\u201d said Sho, lowering himself down to the patio.\u00a0 \u201cI always wanted to see one of those flowers.\u00a0 That\u2019s why I planted that plant.\u00a0 Takes three years to bloom.\u00a0 Now I\u2019ve seen it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your hurry?\u201d I said, following him, leaping and jogging.\u00a0 \u201cSlow down.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have to go,\u201d said Sho, but he let me catch up.\u00a0 He almost smiled.\u00a0 \u201cI have a date,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou do?\u201d I said.\u00a0 I was surprised.\u00a0 I wouldn\u2019t have been more surprised if my dead parents had climbed out of a tree.<\/p>\n \u201cThird date,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 He was<\/em> smiling.\u00a0 \u201cA very good lady.\u00a0 I meet her at nine,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cSee you tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n He left me standing in the middle of his lawn, holding his flashlight.<\/p>\n I felt lonely all of a sudden, really very lonely and too aware of the facts of my life:\u00a0 a grown man, living in his sister\u2019s backyard, spending his inheritance and the ill-gotten profit of plundered coins.\u00a0 Whenever I thought of these truths, I felt as a man might, looking at an impersonator of himself, an impersonator in ragged dress, his hat on the pavement open for tips.<\/p>\n My problem was, I didn\u2019t want to do anything.\u00a0 In this city of doing, making, buying\u2014of selling-the-car and of running-the-bar and of bringing-the-war-picture-in-under-budget\u2014there was nothing, it seemed to me, worth doing, and even if there had been, the pursuit of it, the doing itself, would create a responsibility to keep<\/em> doing, to keep going and doing, and then who would I be in the face of my striving?\u00a0 I\u2019ll tell you:\u00a0 I\u2019d be the guy following orders, the guy getting out of the Jeep to search the building for survivors, to lay out the dead bodies, to poach the coins, to shoot, as a matter of course, some poor Italian kid who had nothing but his baby sister and a BB gun.<\/p>\n That<\/em> guy was not even someone I wanted to know.<\/p>\n I switched off Sho\u2019s flashlight and lay down on the grass.\u00a0 The stars spattered the sky.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t know the first thing about the stars, but I liked them, and I liked the feeling I got looking into the deep universe, thinking that there was no end to it, and nothing beside it, thinking it was all that existed, all there ever was.\u00a0 The human mind just plummeted off a cliff, thinking about the stars in the sky.\u00a0 I floated belly up beneath the stars, buoyed by Sho\u2019s lawn, taking deep breaths and blowing them out.\u00a0 I lay there like a man I wasn\u2019t, like a man at home on the water.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n One month into lessons the mood of Can\u2019t-Swim-At-All Group B had changed for the better.\u00a0 Though the mornings had only grown colder and darker, the journey down the steps, across the deck and into the pool was less grim.\u00a0 The ocean, grousing and sloshing as much as ever, seemed tamer or at least safely contained.\u00a0 Still, when Helen suggested we venture into the deep end of the pool, the Daves objected.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you trying to kill me?\u201d said Arthritic Dave.<\/p>\n \u201cI need more practice,\u201d said Swarthy, pulling on his hairy ear.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay, okay,\u201d said Helen.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019ll save it for next week.\u00a0 Today we\u2019ll work on your form.\u00a0 You gentlemen look like cats in a sink.\u201d\u00a0 She got out the kickboards again to bully our feet back into line, then she worked on our arms.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t smack at the water,\u201d she said to toothy Dave.\u00a0 \u201cYour hand is an airplane, landing on the surface of the pool before it sinks down.\u201d\u00a0 She demonstrated again.<\/p>\n Toothy smacked.\u00a0 He sent up a geyser of water that had us all wiping our eyes.\u00a0 I saw young Dave smiling triumphant.<\/p>\n Helen squinted at us, exasperated.\u00a0 \u201cHey Charlie,\u201d she said to me.\u00a0 \u201cCome out here and show us how it\u2019s done.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n At Sis\u2019s house, it was time to trim the rose bushes.\u00a0 Sho and I worked with saws and clippers.\u00a0 We wore thick gloves against the thorns.\u00a0 As we toiled, we talked about astronomy.<\/p>\n \u201cBut how does an astronomer make a living?\u201d asked Sho.<\/p>\n \u201cHe studies the stars.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho pays him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOther astronomers, or people who care about what astronomers say.\u201d<\/p>\n Sho paused a moment and looked at me.\u00a0 \u201cWho pays them<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not the point,\u201d I said, irritated.<\/p>\n He turned his back on me and gave all his attention to hacking away at a woody old variety called Mr. Lincoln.<\/p>\n \u201cThe point is that there are people called astronomers who study astronomy and who get paid for doing it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve never met one.\u00a0 Doesn\u2019t sound like a promising line of work.\u201d<\/p>\n The sun was hot.\u00a0 Already I had a five-inch scratch on my forearm.<\/p>\n \u201cWho cares who you\u2019ve met or haven\u2019t met.\u00a0 Jesus.\u00a0 What do you<\/em> have to do with it?\u201d<\/p>\n Sho didn\u2019t answer, but hacked harder at the plants.\u00a0 This was the silent treatment.\u00a0 I knew from experience that he\u2019d keep on with it for hours.<\/p>\n He plodded away from me, aiming his shears at the Double-Delight.\u00a0 He wouldn\u2019t even look my way.<\/p>\n \u201cOld man!\u201d I shouted.\u00a0 \u201cWhy don\u2019t you<\/em> find a more promising line of work?\u00a0 Do you like<\/em> being a gardener? Do you like<\/em> crouching over these vegetables each day in the sun, on this land that isn\u2019t even yours, getting your paltry checks from my self-righteous sister and her cheap B-movie husband.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour sister is a nice lady,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 \u201cI would not say anything against her.\u201d\u00a0 He shoved Mr. Lincoln\u2019s limbs farther into his canvas sack and stalked off.<\/p>\n I was instantly sorry.\u00a0 I dropped my shears to the ground and took off my gloves.\u00a0 Tears glazed my eyes, and, ashamed of myself, I squatted down and pressed my wrists to my face.\u00a0 From inside my sister\u2019s house, the sound of the radio\u2014some old big band number pulled down out of the sky, easy as flipping a switch, easy as slapping your hands together and saying Our Father<\/em>.\u00a0 Well, bully for Sissy, bully for her and her Sky-Lounge-Safety-Interior life.\u00a0 What did I want from her anyway?\u00a0 Did I want her to be out here in the thorn bushes with me and with Sho?<\/p>\n According to Sissy, Sho had never complained about me, never let on that he might be burdened by my bleak presence, my interruption of his solitude.\u00a0 I could not understand it\u2014how he put up with me, even if I never asked to be paid and even if on most days I did good work.\u00a0 This was his job, after all, not mine.\u00a0 I could only guess at Sho\u2019s empathy for me: a fellow traveler who, like him, remembered a time when he could never have imagined himself stuck in a fat lady\u2019s garden on Coldwater Canyon.<\/p>\n I wiped my nose on the hem of my shirt and put my gloves back on.\u00a0 Lunchtime, roughly.\u00a0 I cleaned up my branches and hauled up my bag of debris.<\/p>\n Sho was sitting under a pepper tree at the edge of the lawn.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m very sorry,\u201d I said to him, laying my sack of thorns next to his.<\/p>\n Sho waved his hand at me, dismissing my apology.\u00a0 \u201cSit,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cAsk me about my date.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow was your date?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was very good,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 He squinted critically at his beautiful lawn, as though that were the end of the conversation.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you going to elaborate?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u2018No,\u201d said Sho.<\/p>\n \u201cWas there at least some hanky panky?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMind your business,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 \u201cI have an answer to your question.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhich one?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout gardening for your sister and her B-Movie husband.\u00a0 It is better for me not to think about liking or not liking.\u00a0 I have had many different occupations.\u00a0 In every case it was better not to think about liking or not liking.\u00a0 It is better, now, to think about the plants.\u00a0 My father taught me this.\u00a0 He was Shinto.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell me about Shinto,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cShhh,\u201d said Sho.\u00a0 \u201cAnother time.\u00a0 It is better, now, to think about the plants.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat in silence with Sho and thought about thinking about the plants.\u00a0 A breeze riffled through the garden.\u00a0 The hibiscus flowers bobbed their red heads, yes<\/em>.\u00a0 We didn\u2019t say anything for a few minutes more.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course,\u201d said Sho, finally.\u00a0 He gave me a sly look.\u00a0 \u201cIf I were digging in this garden and my shovel hit a chest full of treasure, I wouldn\u2019t complain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWouldn\u2019t hurt your chances with the lady,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n Sho let out a laugh.\u00a0 \u201cHa!\u00a0 Ha-ha!\u201d he said.<\/p>\n A couple of starlings flew down out of the tree and hopped across the lawn, looking around like tourists.\u00a0 The old man was still chuckling.\u00a0 He took off his hat, wiped his eye with his knuckle and started laughing again, hearty laughter from his big-hearted chest.\u00a0 It bubbled around me.\u00a0 I wanted to tell him how well I was swimming; how light I felt in the water, now; how just in the past week the old fear had vanished.<\/p>\n Instead, I made a quick, good decision.\u00a0 \u201cWait here,\u201d I said, getting up and starting for the cottage.\u00a0 \u201cI have something I want to give you, old man.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n That very night I awoke around midnight to the wind blowing excitement into the trees.\u00a0 I got out of bed and put on my robe; I wanted to see what was happening out there.\u00a0 Sure enough, the sky was moonless, clear, every cloud pushed to Kingdom Come, and the stars were living large.<\/p>\n I shaved, brushed my teeth and hair, pressed a shirt and dressed\u2014looking sharp\u2014nabbed my shoes, my brown paper swimming bag, and Sis\u2019s car keys.\u00a0 I was stepping out.\u00a0 The lawn felt like a trampoline under my feet, encouraging me forward.\u00a0 In the garage, the Rambler\u2019s chrome bumper winked my way.<\/p>\n I\u2019d given all the coins\u2014the whole shoebox of my filthy lucre\u2014to Sho.\u00a0 My sacrifice:\u00a0 I\u2019d explained to him that I just couldn\u2019t keep them anymore, that they were heavy, an anchor tossed to the wrong harbor.\u00a0 I\u2019d held back only the 3 Kreutzer.\u00a0 That one belonged to Oscar.\u00a0 I tossed it onto the passenger seat and drove myself into the city.<\/p>\n When I got there, The Observatory looked dark: door locked, lights out, barstools up on the bar.\u00a0 I pounded on the glass door.\u00a0 \u201cOscar!\u201d I yelled.\u00a0 Then, I got smart and walked around to the back.\u00a0 I rapped on the office window.\u00a0 \u201cHey Oscar!\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar opened the shade and the window just enough to reveal his eyes and curly brows.\u00a0 Cigarette smoke rose from the sill.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m closed,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re open until 2:00.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a Tuesday night.\u00a0 I close at 1:00.\u00a0 What do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShow me some heavenly bodies,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cNot tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sober,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t care who you are,\u201d said Oscar.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s Charlie.\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cYour old pal Charlie.\u201d\u00a0 I held the 3 Kreutzer up to the window.\u00a0 \u201cShow me some heavenly bodies and this coin is yours.\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar raised the window shade high to see me better.\u00a0 \u201cYour name is David,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cNot anymore.\u00a0 Come on, Oscar.\u00a0 Please.\u00a0 It\u2019s a clear night.\u201d<\/p>\n Oscar stuck his cigarette in his mouth.\u00a0 \u201cAwwright.\u00a0 Jesus.\u00a0 Okay.\u00a0 I\u2019ll be right out.\u201d<\/p>\n I followed him up the fire escape to the roof where the telescope stood wrapped and tied, like a victim of foul play.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s windy,\u201d he said, \u201cso watch yourself.\u201d\u00a0 We worked on the knots and unbundled the instrument, a big machine, probably six feet long.\u00a0 A man could have stuck his head inside its central barrel.\u00a0 With care, Oscar removed the lens covers.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to show you a planet,\u201d said Oscar.<\/p>\n \u201cGreat,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n Oscar squatted down, peered into the eyepiece and moved the telescope on its big swivel, searching the sky.\u00a0 He tightened a wheel at the base to hold his position, then he made some small adjustments with a couple of silver knobs up near the top.\u00a0 \u201cOkay,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cCome here, Charlie.\u201d\u00a0 He took one more look into the telescope.\u00a0 \u201cYep,\u201d he said, standing aside.\u00a0 \u201cHere, meet Jupiter.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled and handed the coin to Oscar.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re crazy,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m not taking that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes you are,\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cA deal is a deal.\u201d\u00a0 I pressed it into his palm, then ducked down to see what I could see.\u00a0 In the overblown world of Oscar\u2019s telescope, my reflected eyelashes looked like the talons of enormous birds.\u00a0 I inched closer to lift the claws away, and there he was:\u00a0 mighty Jupiter.<\/p>\n \u201cYou really want to see some things,\u201d said Oscar, \u201cyou should go up to the Planetarium two miles away from here, instead of keeping me up all night.\u201d *<\/p>\n I was shaken up.\u00a0 Oscar took me in, poured me a coffee and lit me a cigarette.\u00a0 He tried to give my coin back to me again, so I had to tell him, \u201cThat coin.\u00a0 I like to look at it and hold it, but I can\u2019t think about it anymore.\u201d\u00a0 I didn\u2019t want to say anything else, didn\u2019t want to get Oscar\u2019s imagination revved because the truth was, I came by that Austrian coin without drama, found it in the old inkwell of somebody\u2019s desk, lifted it without really looking at it and pushed it down into my boot.<\/p>\n This was in Italy, right after I\u2019d started collecting coins\u2014right after I\u2019d decided Caesar could take what was Caesar\u2019s.\u00a0 I\u2019d been in the business of warfare for six months and hadn\u2019t suffered so much as a foot blister, a kind of miracle, it seemed, given the scene around me.\u00a0 A few days earlier, when that Italian kid had shot at me with his BB gun, I\u2019d actually believed that God, favoring me above others, had made me bulletproof.\u00a0 Hard to absorb such colossal foolishness, I know, but I\u2019d been told all my life God would protect me.\u00a0 Me, above others.\u00a0 And the kid\u2019s pellets hit hard, stung, but bounced away.<\/p>\n I probably would have been taking pot-shots at the Americans, too, if I\u2019d been that Italian kid, up in my family\u2019s apartment, parents nowhere, nothing but scraps of bread and radishes in the kitchen, my little sister pulling at the leg of my pants.\u00a0 I went up into his building, forced the door and saw him pointing his gun out the window.\u00a0 Then, I shot him without seeing his face.\u00a0 When his body recoiled I knew he could not have been more than twelve.\u00a0 He looked hard at me, though, before he died.\u00a0 He cried out to me, his hands clenched beneath his chin.\u00a0 He begged for his mother.<\/p>\n Afterward, I carried the screaming sister\u2014a child who could not yet walk\u2014to the sergeant.\u00a0 I never learned what happened to her, but I didn\u2019t pray for her, not even out of habit.<\/p>\n I finished my coffee and said goodnight to Oscar.\u00a0 It was nearly 3:30, too late to fall asleep with any hope of waking in time for my swimming lesson.\u00a0 No point in backtracking.\u00a0 The Rambler\u2019s tank was full, so I piloted her south, down Santa Monica to the coast.\u00a0 I took the scenic route, cutting west to drive seaside through the beach towns, but I had to stop and crank up my windows, because it was cold and because, driving alone on a moonless night, the edge of the continent could seem like the edge of the world.<\/p>\n I hoped Sho would be happy.\u00a0 I hoped he\u2019d get hitched and buy himself a house with a pool, maybe give up gardening and get back into business.\u00a0 At the same time, I regretted the loss of my coins, felt almost as though they\u2019d been taken from me, could not imagine how to get along without them\u2014how to begin patching things up with my sister, how to make my own way home.\u00a0 I was not, I understood, a good man.<\/p>\n Alone on the road, I was thinking of all this, and also about the deep end of the Roessler Pool.\u00a0 I\u2019d been thinking of that all week, since Helen had suggested it, considering the threat of deep water\u2014yes\u2014but also wondering what a man might find in deep water:\u00a0 a lost land, an ancient coin, a lover\u2019s melted ice?\u00a0 I imagined the pleasure of diving far, far down into the peaceful blue and swimming, weightless and free, until I rose, my upturned face breaking the surface with splashless grace.<\/p>\n Ahead, the lights of Torrance ended, and beyond that loomed the primeval darkness of the Palos Verdes Peninsula.\u00a0 There, in private, the stars descended, tatted their lights together, and made a lace of the night sky.\u00a0 Some of them, I knew, were glittering on the black, slick surface of the Roessler Pool.\u00a0 Some of them bobbed and dove.\u00a0 Jupiter, Venus, Mars, Saturn.\u00a0 All I wanted was to fly through the water among them, feel their orbital force tugging at my ankles, touch their enormous cold grey heads.<\/p>\n I parked the Rambler at the ivy gate and turned off the lights.\u00a0 Then I closed my eyes, and I waited for my lesson.<\/p>\n The Roessler Pool advertised its swimming lessons in local news rags or in the back pages of amateur theater programs.\u00a0 These advertisements, no bigger than two postage stamps, were always the same: a black cartoon cat hung midair over a cartoon lake, fur electric with terror, eyes popped out of his skull.\u00a0 \u201cWe specialize in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[10],"tags":[20],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/s6Jypy-5088","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5088"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5088"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5088\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10466,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5088\/revisions\/10466"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5088"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5088"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5088"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nOscar was surprised I hadn\u2019t learned to swim in the Army.\u00a0 That was a laugh.\u00a0 Ha!\u00a0 I told him half the kids who died at Normandy had drowned.\u00a0 I\u2019d have been dead, too, if I\u2019d been there.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI went a couple of times to make you happy,\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cI felt obligated<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cShhhh,\u201d I said, because Jupiter, the size of a pea, was not white like starlight\u2014more beige, more drab\u2014no diamond in the sky, as in song.\u00a0 It was clayey, like a real thing, real as a clod of dirt\u2014well, it was<\/em> a real thing, but I hadn\u2019t ever thought about it that way, and so I needed Oscar to shut up for a minute.\u00a0 I took it in:\u00a0 the solidness of Jupiter, but also the smallness of it, floating out there in the profound blackness of outer space.\u00a0 My god, it seemed lonely, a land in exile. \u00a0Thinking of that, I felt something like the unfurling of a tight bud in my throat, and I had to turn away and cough to keep my bearings on this earth.<\/p>\nAllyson Goldin Loomis<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"