Durable Goods_ A Novel - Elizabeth Berg [17]
I like swimming at night. The water, black and deeper looking. The lights making crossover rings on the waves. The diving board, glowing a pearl color, the sound of its springboard action carrying far. Not many people swim at night, and the lifeguards don’t use whistles. They just say, “Hey, off the rope,” in their normal voice.
Diane is telling me to dive off the high board. “I can’t,” I say.
“Yeah, you can,” she says. “It’s the same thing you do off the low board. It’s just higher.”
“No,” I say. “I can’t do it.”
“I can,” Cherylanne says. “I can take a running dive off it.”
“I know you can,” I say.
“Watch,” she says, and ascends the ladder to the high dive. She is barely visible in the dark. I hear her voice like it is its own thing. “First, a big breath in, to show yourself your confidence.” I hear her take in a breath. “Now,” she says, “a slow breath out.” I watch her carefully even though I am a little mad at her. She walks to the end of the board, pivots gracefully, walks three steps back, pivots again, puts her arms out straight before her. Her face is impassive, serious, I know. I see her take her steps, bounce up once, then dive down and slice nearly noiselessly into the water below.
“Great dive!” Dickie says. Diane and I look at him. “What!” he says. “That was a great dive!”
I fill up my cheeks with air, let it go, head for the ladder. Even this is hard for me. I don’t like heights. My breaths get shorter and shorter the higher I get. I feel lightheaded by the time I reach the diving board. I hold on to the rails, look down at my sister in the lamplight. The lifeguard is watching, too. I wave.
“Do it!” Diane says.
I look up into the night sky, the peaceful stars. There, that is higher. I walk out to the end of the board. There is no sound. They are all watching. I feel a slight tremor along the board, turn, and walk hastily back to hold onto the rail.
“Awwww!” I hear Dickie say.
Diane cups her hands around her mouth. “Do it!”
Something occurs to me. “Why?” I ask.
She puts her hands down, turns away, then looks back up at me, her hands on her hips. “If you do it, I’ll take you to see Dickie’s puppies.”
“Do you have puppies, Dickie?” I call down.
“Sure do,” he says. “Six of ’em. All little girls.”
Well, there is no point in negotiating from this position. I start to come down. “No!” Diane says. “Dive off that board right now. You can do it, Katie.”
“I just … I think I’ll come down first.”
“Don’t,” Diane says. “Or you won’t do it. Just dive! Then we’ll go see the puppies. We’ll get them some ice cream at Dairy Queen.”
Dairy Queen. Me, dressed in dry clothes, in a car, on the ground, finished with this. I walk halfway down the diving board, stop.
“Okay. Take in your deeeeeep breath,” I hear Cherylanne say.
“Quiet,” I say. “I know.”
I walk to the end of the board, put my arms up over my head in the dive position, start to bend down.
“It’s easier to take a running start,” Cherylanne says. “The first time’s the hardest.”
“Quiet!” Diane tells her, and she is.
There are different kinds of time in the world. When you get called on and you don’t know the answer and the teacher waits, that is one kind of time and it is like this. I straighten up, bend down halfway again. The water sparkles from the lights, waits. The puppies will be so cute. I close my eyes.
I can’t do it. I come down the ladder. No one says anything. “Can I still see the puppies?” I ask.
“No,” Diane says. “I told you. You have to dive.”
“Let her see them,” Dickie says. “For Christ’s sake.”
Diane turns to him, her voice deadly soft. “No.”
Cherylanne takes my hand. “I’ll show you how,” she says.
I let go. “In the daytime,” I say.
“You won’t do it in the daytime, either, will you?” Diane asks. And then, almost forgiving, “Will you?”
It happens. It comes to me. When I get up on Friday morning, I go to the bathroom and see the evidence. At first, I don’t believe