bumper-sticker kind of guy. He was an observer, that’s what he had always told himself. He was just an interested observer. But the more you observed, the more you found yourself engaged, that was the problem. Especially these past few years, there seemed to be a lot of stuff to be engaged about.
There was the war in Iraq and there was the war in Afghanistan and there was nothing linking Iraq to Afghanistan or to September 11. There was a failure of logic there that upset Bruno. There had been a deception and it offended his sense of order. Nobody seemed to have noticed it except for him. When he talked about it in the office they all looked uncomfortable, they laughed it off. Well, what would you expect? Republicans to a man, all they talked about was the tax implications. Then there was Sarah Palin, and that was like a bad joke except that Bruno wasn’t laughing. Even the thought of it made him crazy. Obama had to win, he just had to win.
Bruno was distracted by the sound of a door slamming. He turned to see Addie coming back down the steps, a bunch of towels rolled up under her arm.
So she wasn’t joking about the swim.
THE SWIMMING IS a religion to her. It’s the thing at the very center of her. She’s a swimmer.
That’s why she keeps her hair cut short, that’s why she always smells of chlorine. She has swimsuits and towels perpetually draped over her radiators, multiple pairs of goggles in the glove compartment of her car. A huge framed David Hockney swimming pool on the wall over her bed. For Christmas one year Della gave her an Esther Williams box set. Addie has watched every one of those movies a hundred times.
In the wintertime she swims in the pool. But from June to October she swims in the sea too. She plans her life around the tides. She always knows what time is high water. She never has to check the paper.
She swims at Seapoint or the Forty Foot, she even swims at the Half Moon Swimming Club on the South Wall, and nobody swims there anymore. It’s right next to the sewage plant, just under the power station, maybe that’s what makes people squeamish about it. They prefer to swim on the other side of the bay. But the way Addie looks at it, it’s all the same sea. People swim in the bloody Mediterranean, people swim in the Ganges, for God’s sake.
From June to the end of August, there are lifeguards on duty, on the lookout for trespassing dogs. But they make an exception for Lola. Lola has earned their respect.
It’s the elegant way she swims, with her neck stretched up to keep her head out of the water. It’s the distance she covers, staying with Addie all the way. The only indication she gives that she’s tiring is her heavy breathing. She makes these wide circles in the water, like a paddleboat, just for the pleasure of it.
“What an extraordinary dog!”
That was the nicest compliment Lola ever got. They were coming out of the water together after their swim. There were two old ladies sitting on the stone bench in their swimsuits and one of them said to the other, what an extraordinary dog. And Addie was so proud to be the owner of this extraordinary dog. Lola the swimming dog.
FROM THE ROAD, the sea had looked bright and blue and beckoning. But now that they were right down beside it, it was a horrible stony gray. Choppy and cold-looking and distinctly uninviting. Bruno was having second thoughts.
Of course Addie went straight in. She drew her clothes off and tossed them on the ground and she walked right down the ramp and into the sea as if there were no difference between the air and the water, as if they were all the same element.
They were out there right now, herself and the dog. Bruno could see the wet little head struggling along beside her. She was talking to the dog but he couldn’t hear what she was saying, words of encouragement no doubt.
He registered a twinge of jealousy. I wish she’d encourage me, he was thinking.
He was finding it hard to believe he
There was the war in Iraq and there was the war in Afghanistan and there was nothing linking Iraq to Afghanistan or to September 11. There was a failure of logic there that upset Bruno. There had been a deception and it offended his sense of order. Nobody seemed to have noticed it except for him. When he talked about it in the office they all looked uncomfortable, they laughed it off. Well, what would you expect? Republicans to a man, all they talked about was the tax implications. Then there was Sarah Palin, and that was like a bad joke except that Bruno wasn’t laughing. Even the thought of it made him crazy. Obama had to win, he just had to win.
Bruno was distracted by the sound of a door slamming. He turned to see Addie coming back down the steps, a bunch of towels rolled up under her arm.
So she wasn’t joking about the swim.
THE SWIMMING IS a religion to her. It’s the thing at the very center of her. She’s a swimmer.
That’s why she keeps her hair cut short, that’s why she always smells of chlorine. She has swimsuits and towels perpetually draped over her radiators, multiple pairs of goggles in the glove compartment of her car. A huge framed David Hockney swimming pool on the wall over her bed. For Christmas one year Della gave her an Esther Williams box set. Addie has watched every one of those movies a hundred times.
In the wintertime she swims in the pool. But from June to October she swims in the sea too. She plans her life around the tides. She always knows what time is high water. She never has to check the paper.
She swims at Seapoint or the Forty Foot, she even swims at the Half Moon Swimming Club on the South Wall, and nobody swims there anymore. It’s right next to the sewage plant, just under the power station, maybe that’s what makes people squeamish about it. They prefer to swim on the other side of the bay. But the way Addie looks at it, it’s all the same sea. People swim in the bloody Mediterranean, people swim in the Ganges, for God’s sake.
From June to the end of August, there are lifeguards on duty, on the lookout for trespassing dogs. But they make an exception for Lola. Lola has earned their respect.
It’s the elegant way she swims, with her neck stretched up to keep her head out of the water. It’s the distance she covers, staying with Addie all the way. The only indication she gives that she’s tiring is her heavy breathing. She makes these wide circles in the water, like a paddleboat, just for the pleasure of it.
“What an extraordinary dog!”
That was the nicest compliment Lola ever got. They were coming out of the water together after their swim. There were two old ladies sitting on the stone bench in their swimsuits and one of them said to the other, what an extraordinary dog. And Addie was so proud to be the owner of this extraordinary dog. Lola the swimming dog.
FROM THE ROAD, the sea had looked bright and blue and beckoning. But now that they were right down beside it, it was a horrible stony gray. Choppy and cold-looking and distinctly uninviting. Bruno was having second thoughts.
Of course Addie went straight in. She drew her clothes off and tossed them on the ground and she walked right down the ramp and into the sea as if there were no difference between the air and the water, as if they were all the same element.
They were out there right now, herself and the dog. Bruno could see the wet little head struggling along beside her. She was talking to the dog but he couldn’t hear what she was saying, words of encouragement no doubt.
He registered a twinge of jealousy. I wish she’d encourage me, he was thinking.
He was finding it hard to believe he
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