Light of the Fire: A Novel by Sarahlyn Bruck

Author:Sarahlyn Bruck [Bruck, Sarahlyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2024-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

BETH

Beth had always liked the smell of chlorine. It signified summer, but it also never failed to conjure her strongest memory of her mother—the time when she’d taken pint-size Beth to Mommy-and-Me swim classes at the local YMCA. What little Beth remembered about her mother lingered at the fuzzy edges—a flash of a smile, the scent of her flowery lotion, her pixie haircut, the feel of her warm arms wrapped around her. But at the Y’s outdoor pool, Beth remembered everything—probably because repetition had been built into the lessons.

For weeks, they performed the same activities. At the slightest whiff of pool chemicals, Beth was two and a half years old again, coated in sunscreen, her mom already in the water and gently lowering her in from the pool’s edge. Mom would hug her close while their bodies got accustomed to the water temperature, and then she’d grasp onto her hands and let Beth float on her tummy, and then on her back, and kick her legs. The group would circle up for songs and exercises. Beth could still hear her mother sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” while they giggled and splashed. She couldn’t possibly discern if her mom had been a good singer, but to her, there was no sweeter sound than her mother’s voice. When the lesson ended, Mom would wrap Beth in a large, fluffy towel and kiss the top of her wet head, and hand in hand they’d walk to the locker room to change.

Today, as she and Rachel, the Springtime Center’s resident director, rounded the corner to the facility’s indoor pool, Beth was almost surprised to see the swimming pool filled with senior citizens, dancing and splashing to “Twist and Shout,” rather than parents and toddlers paddling along to “Old MacDonald.” Beth blinked, reminding herself that she was here for her dad, not her mother.

“This, obviously, is our pool,” Rachel said. A thin cloud of steam hovered over the water. “It’s kept at seventy-eight degrees at all times. The seniors seem to like the warmer temperature, and it doesn’t slow them down one bit.”

Beth turned to watch as the instructor led the seniors through a simple exercise involving a pool noodle and light marching.

“The water-aerobics class is one of our most popular,” Rachel continued. “Residents can sign up ahead of time online, and each class usually fills with a waiting list.”

Beth nodded her approval, but she knew her dad was a long way from participating in water aerobics. Not that she’d ever seen him in a pool. When her mother died, Beth learned how to swim through group swim lessons taught by certified Red Cross instructors. They were fine. Her dad put her into lots of lessons after her mother died. When she told him she wished he would take her to Mommy-and-Me classes, he said, “It’s ‘Mommy and Me,’ not ‘Daddy and Me.’” But even at three and four, Beth had learned to hide her skepticism and disappointment.

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