Swimming Lessons

by Mary Alice Monroe

  It was a perfect night for fireworks. The weather was neither too hot nor humid and just a breath of breeze blew in from the ocean. A friendly family crowd sat on towels and blankets on the beach. They oohed, aahed and clapped after each aerial display of red, white and blue that thundered in the sky. When a series of great chrysanthemum patterns exploded directly overhead, lighting up the sky in gold, the neighbor’s dog barked and Cooper brought his fingers to his lips and let loose a piercing whistle of approval, eliciting guffaws from his father and a “shhh” from his mother.

  Turning her head, Cara caught sight of Ethan dipping his head to kiss Toy’s upturned lips. They seemed to glitter in the golden light. Leaning against her husband, Cara smiled as the sky exploded once more with brilliant colors that bloomed across the sky.

  13

  Big Girl’s rear was causing problems.

  Toy, Ethan and Jason huddled around the tank discussing how to keep the turtle from floating.

  “We’re going to have to move her from the big tank,” Ethan decided.

  “No, Ethan, she loves the big tank,” Toy argued. “She’s been doing so well with the swimming and exercise. I hate to move her out.”

  “We’ve been going round and round with this problem and still no success,” Jason argued. “I don’t like the way her swimming is so labored. How many eggs did she release?”

  “Fifteen total, but not any for a couple of weeks. Her shell is clean and she’s eating well, catching food under water. Plus she’s gaining weight. That’s all good.”

  “But something’s not right if she can’t fully submerge.”

  They stood for a few minutes watching the turtle swim. Big Girl spent most of her time in an awkward head down, tail up position. Toy knew that Jason was right to make a new plan, but she thought the decision to move the turtle from the big tank and putting her back in a small one was the wrong one to make.

  “Before we decide to take her out of the tank, I have a few ideas I’d like to try,” Toy said. She glanced at Ethan. They’d discussed her idea and he nodded his head briefly, encouraging her to go on.

  “Now, just think about this and don’t laugh. What if we put a diver’s weight belt on her?” she asked. “It would give her the boost she needs to stay under water.”

  “A diver’s belt?” Jason asked, incredulously. “On the turtle?”

  “Why not? It might just do the trick of keeping her submerged.”

  Ethan spoke up. “It’s thinking outside the box, Jason.”

  Jason had a bemused expression on his face as he considered it.

  “We could just give it a try,” Toy said. “She’s had the endoscopy, medications, and though she’s improved, her rear still floats. We’d have to secure together two belts to get around an adult loggerhead, but hey! This idea would give her the tincture of time she needs to heal. What have we got to lose?”

  Jason watched the turtle as it swam in a circle around the tank, rear up. He shrugged. “Okay, we can try it. I don’t know how your turtle is going to like the new fashion statement, but if it keeps her from floating…”

  “We’ll watch her closely and adjust the weight. If it doesn’t work, we can do a second endoscopy,” she countered. “I’ve read that if we limit the belt procedure to fifteen minutes, it shouldn’t be stressful for her.”

  Toy noticed a sharper attention in Jason’s eyes that spoke of respect for her opinion. When she first began working at the hospital, she went to Ethan and Jason with countless questions and for approval of her decisions. As the summer peaked and everyone became overworked, however, necessity forced her to trust her own decisions and not go to Jason or Ethan for approval. It occurred to her that Jason had come to this realization as well.

  “Let’s do it,” Jason said enthusiastically. He liked innovative solutions.

  Ethan immediately went to get a couple dive belts from his supply, eager to test out the theory. When he returned a short while later he was wearing his dive suit and was accompanied by Favel and a strange woman dressed in an Aquarium volunteer T-shirt. With her head of striking white hair Toy guessed her to be in her late sixties.

  “Look who I found wandering the halls looking for a turtle hospital,” Ethan said.

  Favel greeted them with a brief wave but the woman walked straight for them with a smile that lit up her beautiful blue eyes.

  “I’m Elizabeth,” she said in a forthright manner and extending her hand. “Elizabeth Scrimgeur. I’ve been assigned to the sea turtle hospital as a volunteer.”

  Toy almost gasped aloud. She quickly took the hand and pumped it, afraid if she let go she’d lose her first full time volunteer.

  “You’re assigned to the turtle hospital?” she asked. “Nowhere else?”

  “I’m all yours,” Elizabeth replied with enthusiasm. “I’m a turtle team volunteer on Folly Beach and a self professed turtle fanatic. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

  “I like the attitude,” Jason said, then stepped forward to introduce himself. “We all chip in where we’re needed, but this program is growing fast. Welcome aboard.”

  “And just in time,” Ethan said, stepping up with the dive belts in his hands. “You’re about to get an introduction to our first—and biggest—patient. Come on over and meet Big Girl, up close and personal.”

  As they walked past the tanks, Toy gave brief histories of the patients: Cherry Point, Hamlin, Sharkbite and Kiawah. The turtles swam close to the edges of the tanks, their almond eyes watchful as Toy passed.

  “They seem to know you,” Elizabeth said.

  “Oh, these moochers. They’re just hungry,” she said, looking at the turtles with affection. “They each have their own personality. After we take care of Big Girl, I’ll show you how to feed them. They do know who I am and are wary of strangers, but they’ll warm up to you in no time. There’s a lot to learn so we’ll just take it one day at a time.”

  “I’m eager to learn,” Elizabeth replied her eyes lingering on each turtle as she passed.

  Toy smiled, understanding that fascination completely. Once smitten with sea turtles, it was a love affair for life.

  By the time Toy and Elizabeth got to Big Girl’s tank, Ethan had already climbed in. This large, 11,000 gallon tank had been Big Girl’s home for the past few weeks and she swam quickly away with powerful strokes of her flippers, giving Ethan a hard time rounding her up. Toy climbed the platform of the large tank while Ethan tried to chase and maneuver Big Girl closer to her. Jason, Favel and Elizabeth stood at the ready, waiting for the chance to grab hold of the turtle and haul her out.

  “Ethan, get a move on!” Toy called to him as she leaned over the edge of the tank. “She’s getting past you.”

  “Hey, you come in here and see if you can do it better,” he called back. He was chest deep in the water with his long arms outstretched, trying to herd the enormous turtle closer.

  “Do you want me to get in there with her?” the new volunteer asked. “I’m not afraid of getting wet.”

  Toy turned from the tank to look at her. She had the agility of a woman half her age and was reaching for the turtle, not the least inhibited. “I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Well, Elizabeth, watch your hand. Those jaws are powerful and I’d hate to see you bitten on your first day. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to get in that tank in the future, but since this is your first day, we’ll let you stay dry. We need all the help we can get on this side just to haul her out. She’s one big turtle.”

  “But be careful,” Jason chimed in. “Big Girl is wise to this maneuver and every time she comes near she gets her revenge by heaving water at us. If she looks you in the eye, duck.”

  Ethan herded the big turtle towards them. As Big Girl swam closer, she lifted her head out of the water with a noisy gasp for air. As her head skimmed just above the water, her dark, almond eyes looked at Elizabeth as if taking her measure.

  �
�Duck!” Jason called.

  In a swoosh, the turtle pushed the water with her flipper and a wave of water gushed from the tank, splashing Elizabeth from head to toe.

  Dripping wet, Elizabeth sputtered with shock as Toy prayed Big Girl hadn’t cost them her first volunteer. Elizabeth caught her breath then threw back her head and laughed. It was a hearty sound, contagious. Relieved, they all joined in.

  “Hey, welcome to the team,” Ethan called out from the tank. “You’ve just been baptized.”

  “Big Girl’s gotten all of us at one time or another,” Toy said. “If a turtle could smile, she’d be grinning from ear to ear right now, the stinker.”

  “Come on, Ethan,” Jason called out. “You’re swimming like a girl in there. Be a cowboy and round up that turtle.”

  “Hee haw,” Ethan called back and once again, tried to maneuver the wily, two-hundred-fifty-pound turtle closer to them. This time when Big Girl swam by Toy determinedly flung herself forward to grab hold of the carapace.

  “Got her!” she called out.

  In synchronized motion, Jason and Ethan lunged forward to grab the carapace and as a group they brought the huge, flipper-flailing hulk out from the tank. Elizabeth grabbed a side of the shell, and in a seal-like motion, Ethan pulled himself from the tank and again took hold of the shell. They maneuvered Big Girl to the scale where they weighed her, then moved her to a long stainless steel table where they completed the procedure that secured a four-pound weight with a wrap.

  As she worked on the belt, Toy tried not to laugh at the jokes flying fast and furious between Ethan and Jason, all having to do with fashion, the dive belt and unlikely scenarios. Even laughing they got the job done and had the turtle back in her tank in no time.

  Big Girl was highly indignant nonetheless. Once she hit water she swam furiously to the opposite side of the tank, all flippers flailing. She took a few spins around the tank before she finally settled down. Toy leaned against the big tank, holding her breath as she watched and waited.

  With relative ease, Big Girl dove to the bottom of the tank. Once there, she glided along the bottom in a slow sulk

  “It works!” Toy exclaimed and she clutched Ethan’s arm. “Look, she’s on the bottom!”

  “Well, whaddya know,” Jason said with a clap of his hands. His smile reflected both his approval and surprise that the belt had actually done the job. “Good job, team.”

  Ethan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She smiled up into his face. Then she looked over to see Elizabeth standing, soaked to the skin, with a puzzled expression.

  “You have to understand that this turtle’s rear has been floating for weeks and we’ve been pulling our hair out trying to figure a way to help her dive,” Toy told her. “She’s had a litany of treatments. Now look at her! She’s resting on the bottom. You came on a good day. To celebrate, how about I get you a dry T-shirt?”

  “That’d be great, thanks,” Elizabeth replied, relief etched on her face. “But before everyone leaves can I ask, who is in charge here? Who do I report to?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation. First, everyone naturally looked to Jason. But Jason’s gaze was firmly, meaningfully, on Toy.

  She felt his gaze on her but her own gaze turned inward. This was a defining moment. Her chest rose and fell as a calm certainty settled within herself. She’d worked hard for this position. She had earned it. The turtle hospital’s creation and success was shared, and yet, at this moment, in the eyes of an outsider, she saw herself as its director. And that, she knew, made all the difference.

  Toy turned to Elizabeth, her conviction welling up. “I’m head of the turtle hospital,” she said in an unwavering voice. “You report to me.”

  Truth be told, Emmi had been a worry these past weeks. Cara felt she hardly knew her. Since she’d come to the island, Emmi’s determined, single-minded focus had shifted from her family exclusively to single men. She was man hungry, there was no other way to describe her fervor in dating. And it was like she was trying to be young again, not only in the way she dressed but in the way she acted, too. It was plain embarrassing to witness.

  And then there was the drinking. On the surface Emmi might look like she was living a good time but Cara had known her since she was eight and she’d never known Emmi to hit the bottle like she’d been doing lately. She’d tried to give Emmi her space, but friends didn’t let friends wallow. It was time for a serious heart-to-heart.

  Cara rode her bicycle from Seventh Avenue to Ocean Boulevard, thankful for the salty ocean breeze that stirred the soaring heat of midsummer. Theirs was a neighborhood of small, original beach houses, like her own and Emmi’s, interspersed with the newer, bigger houses that seemed to be replacing them. It always annoyed her when builders referred to the original, small houses on the islands as “tear downs,” as though the wrecking ball was only a matter of time. She pedaled past a charming, pink stucco house that had been at the corner for as long as she could remember. She worried that with the tearing down of the quaint original beach houses to build the mansions, the island would also be destroying its residential charm.

  Hers and Emmi’s houses were only blocks apart, too close to excuse the few times she’d stopped at Emmi’s for a cup of coffee or dinner over the past few months. She rode up the cracked driveway, squeezing her hand brakes till they squeaked. The rusty bicycle finally stopped before a modest beach house. She swung her leg over the bar and rested the bike against the trellis. The house looked much the same as it had since they were children. She used to ride her bike from her beach house down the boulevard to the Baker’s house to hang out, and if they got bored or were hungry for different snacks, they got on their bikes and rode back to the Rutledge house.

  To Cara, the white wooden cottage on low wood pilings would always be the Baker House. Even after Emmi married Tom, no one referred to it as the Peterson house. She was relieved to see that the trim was freshly painted and that a pot of cheery red geraniums with trailing vines sat in a large terracotta pot on the porch. No one answered her knocks so she poked her head in, like she’d been doing this since she was eight.

  “Emmi? Cover up, girl, I’m coming in!”

  Stepping in, she almost stumbled over a pile of books. She caught herself, then looked around the front room, aghast.

  Her first thought was that a hurricane had hit the inside of Emmi’s house. Cardboard boxes littered the floors, each half filled with the contents of the open cabinets and drawers. The counters were cluttered with more boxes, rolls of tape, papers and dishes ready to be packed.

  Emmi came walking into the room carrying a pile of blankets in her arms. Her face was chalky with fatigue and her red hair was held precariously in place with a single plastic clasp. She wore a bright yellow apron dotted with red chili peppers over an orange spandex top and chocolate brown yoga pants. She stopped short when she spotted Cara in the foyer.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed in surprise, her mouth stretching to a delighted grin. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you here?”

  “I haven’t heard from you for a while so I thought I’d stop by. What’s going on?”

  “Packing up. I swear, it’s harder than I thought to pack up two generations worth of junk. Every closet was crammed full. I don’t know what to do with it all.”

  “Call Goodwill?” Cara replied wryly. She’d been teasing Emmi for years that she ought to toss out all the old furniture and freshen up the place.

  “I wish. But everything has some sentimental attachment. It’s taking forever.”

  “You and Flo, both. You hang on to stuff forever.” She looked around the place and thought how given one truck and lots of empty boxes, she could get the job done in a day. “Looks like you could use some help with the packing. Why didn’t you call? And why the big hurry?”

  It was an innocent enough question, she thought, but for some reason it had the power to unnerve Emmi. She dumped the blankets unceremoniously into an empty box, then, hands on her hips, sta
red out the window to regain her composure.

  “I’ve found a buyer for the house.”

  Cara hadn’t expected this. “So fast? Wow, that’s great.” When she saw Emmi’s lip tremble she did a double take. “Isn’t it great? Emmi, why are you crying? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Not like this,” she said, dropping her face in her hands.

  Cara came closer, putting her hand gingerly on Emmi’s shoulder. A box of tissue was on the table beside foam cups filled with cigarette butts. She yanked out a tissue and handed it to her. Emmi took it and blew her nose lustily then tossed the tissue in a box filled with trash.

  “Are you having second thoughts? It’s only natural you would. You’ve always loved it here. Emmi, you don’t have to sell it if you’ve changed your mind. Do you want to keep the house?”

  Emmi shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. Cara, it’s Tom who wants to buy the house.”

  Cara’s mouth opened with astonishment. “Your Tom? I don’t understand.”

  “It was a shock to me, too. He called the other day. James and John were with him, of course. Apparently, after I told the boys that I was putting the beach house on the market, they joined forces and went straight off to tell their father. Tom was livid. First he railed at me for putting the house on the market without consulting him. Can you believe his arrogance? Consulting him…We’re divorced! I told him I wouldn’t consult him on what color I should paint my toe nails much less anything to do with my life or my house, thank you very much. And this is my house. My parents gave it to me, not him. It’s almost as if they expected this to happen.”

  “No, of course they didn’t. You two were in love.”