Authors: Sean McGinty
The End of FUN (36 page)
“I gotta tell you, I'm not much of a swimmer.”
“Nonsense! Follow me!” Mr. E. raised his arms, bent his knees, and knifed into the water with barely a splash, a perfect 10-point dive, resurfacing in the middle of the pool. “Come! Join us!”
I jumped in and we paddled around in the water for a while, and Mr. E. asked me a bunch of questions. Apparently Katie
had
told him about me. He asked me about my grandfather, and the treasure, and what I wanted to do after college. And I was like,
College?
But then I caught Katie's eye. She'd been acting strange ever since I'd got there, which made senseâthe whole swimming pool situation was nothing if not strange. But now she looked alarmed.
“Papa, you don't have to
interrogate
him!”
“What? This is not an interrogation! I am simply asking some questions!”
She began to speak to him in a foreign language, and he answered her in it, and I couldn't understand what they were saying, but then FUN
®
's Universal Language Decoder (YAY!) detected their speech as Basque and began translating it for me:
mr.e: daughter i am most pleasant! not an embarrass of you! can this allow me chat with special fellow/suitor?
katie: papa can it not be we simply to enjoy nice day?
mr.e: yes i am of course! furthermore yet i must hold special desire for a competition of swimming.
katie: papa no one will be special desire for a competition of swimming. please rather to enjoy the sky of yellow sun.
mr.e: already it does daughter but the belief holds true a competition of a swimming is outrank idle pastimes as evidence of for example here. i am restless agitation for swim!
katie: dear papa we communicate in outrageous length. is time arrival for english? he may apprehend our discourse.
mr.e: special fellow/suitor may apprehend our discourse? this can be possible?
katie: yes! have you not observed he is at present having computer simulation eye of amusement/joy?
The two of them snapped their heads in my direction. I very casually examined my fingernail.
“So,” said Mr. E., “you are probably wondering why I have asked to meet you here, at a swimming pool? All my life I have loved to swim, but that is not why. Did you know, I helped to build this swimming pool!”
“You built it?”
“Incredible, no?”
“Umâ¦yeah.” You don't really ever think about anyone ever
building
a swimming pool. I don't. I looked around the pool at the sparkling water. “I really like the tile stripe around the edge there.”
“That we did not do. That was added later.”
“Well, and the slide.”
“Also later.” He ducked under the water and rose back up, dripping like a fish. “Aaron, I come to America age of eighteen with ten dollars in my shoe. After working with sheep for almost no pay, I ask my friend Kepa, I say to him, âWhere can I find a good job?' He replies, âI am going to build a swimming pool. Do you know how to build a swimming pool, Aitor?' And I say, âNo, Kepa. But I will
learn
.'”
Katie rolled her eyes.
“Together, we built swimming pools all across this land and Idaho. We sold that business and started other businesses. The restaurant. The shoe store. Later, we sold these, too. You see, this is how business works. Always one thing leading to another. Now Kepa, he lives in Las Vegas in a house with three swimming pools.”
“One's a hot tub, Papa. And one's a fish pond.”
“THREE pools! I told him, what do you need all these for? One is enough. But that is what I have discovered about life: if you tell a man that he cannot have something, that is exactly what he will want, no?”
“Um, sure.”
“It is so good to meet you, Aaron. You are a gentleman of honor, I can tell.”
“Papa,”
said Katie.
Mr. E. clapped his hands together. “OK, then. If not talking, time to race!”
“Papa, no one wants to race!”
“A friendly swim, then. We go down, we touch the other end, we come back. What does Aaron have to say about this proposition?”
They turned to me, the deciding vote.
“I gotta tell youâI'm
really
not much of a swimmer.”
“You have said this already, Aaron! But if this is true, you are honest, and if it is false, you are humble, and either way it is very admirable.” He winked at his daughter. “Now get out and stand on the edge with me and show me that you are brave. We dive on the count of three.”
So there I was, trying to remember the last time I'd swum an entire lap across a pool. Ever. The wind had picked up, and it was cold against my skin, but the pool looked even colder. A woman was moving swiftly along the far end. I watched her smooth, even strokes as if I might memorize and repeat them.
“One!” said Mr. E.
“Papa, do we really have toâ”
“Two!”
I took a breath.
“Three!”
The water was colder than the airâlike 10x colderâand the first thing I did was inhale a noseful of it and blow it out in two shoulder-length draglines of snotâonly that wasn't what was holding me back. Terrible form, lack of buoyancy, fear of drowning: that's what my problem was. I splashed along with Katie and her papa for maybe four strokes, and then I was looking at their feetâand that was the last I saw of them until they were coming back the other way.
The whole thing was pretty weird. Afterwards, in the men's locker room with Mr. E., it got even weirder. I'm talking about when he whipped off his trunks like it was no big deal and tossed them on a bench. Suddenly I was trying to not look at a lot more than his nipples.
“My daughter, Katie,” he said. “She is a special person.”
“She, uh, she really is.”
He nodded. “She told me about the ring of promise. It was a very special gift to herâyou should know this.”
What?
There he was, all his parts hanging wrinkly and low, and I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just nodded like,
You bet!
and when he hopped in the showers, I scrammed out of there.
Katie was standing in the lobby. It was our first moment alone together all day.
“What's up with your dad?”
“Yeah, he's pretty crazy all right.”
“He asked me about the ring of promise.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh God! Sorry. He gets so confused about things.”
“I don't get it.”
“The mood ring. I lost it when we were swimming at Tahoe. And I was looking for it, and he asked about it, and I told him it was a
mood
ring. But things can get lost in translation with him.”
“Like how he thought I was in college?”
“Yeah. And, um, he may also think you're twenty-oneâ¦and⦔ Katie shifted the bag in her hand. “He may also have gotten the idea thatâ”
“Hello, you two!” Mr. E. came bursting through the doors. “Ah, I do feel refreshed after a swim! So now what is next on our agenda?”
“I've got rehearsal, remember?”
“Yes, of course! And you, Aaron? Would you like to join me for a late breakfastâmy treat?”
“He can't, Papa. He was just telling me about the work he has at home.”
“Right,” I said. “All the work.”
“Good for you, Aaron. Work is good.”
Back home in my grandpa's recliner, I sat with my heart all fluttery and confused. What was going on? Katie appeared to have told her fatherâor at least led him to believeâthat I was kind of like her boyfriend. But
why
? That meant there was some truth to it,
right?
Maybe she'd thought about things. Maybe she'd searched her heart. You don't go looking for a lost ring unless it's special, right? And if
it
was special,
we
were special.
Right?
> hey original boy_2!
u r a
FAIL
!
u have a call from user shiloh_lilly
“Send to voice mail!”
For once, Homie
â¢
did what I asked.
I let out a breath.
Right. Shiloh. What about Shiloh?
Up to that point in my life I'd always thought of the sacrament of confession to be just one more weapon in the Catholic Church's arsenal of guilt-making and shame. But now I understood. I really needed someone to talk it out with. Someone who wouldn't judge me too harshly. Who would listen and empathize. Who could offer a way forward.
Instead, I told Homie
â¢
.
It hovered patiently while I gave it the story, then it dipped in the air and displayed a single exclamation mark.
> !
Then:
> yow!
u should please totally doink her!
“Who, Shiloh? You didn't hear me right. We already
did
doink. Remember? You were there. And now I'm feeling like crap about it.”
> u r feeling the crap!
“No. I'm feeling
like
crap.”
> be cool!
“I AM cool.”
> that's right!
u r cool!
so very awesome cool happy!
yay! for happytimesâ¢!
a coolest new game!
“You aren't exactly helping.”
Homie
â¢
spun in a circle.
> i can help!
tell me what u want!
what it is that u want?
Good question. What
did
I want? “I don't know, someone to tell me it's all gonna work out OK.”
> it's gonna work out all ok!
“And to, like, tell me I didn't screw it all up.”
> u didn't screw it all up!
“And, I don't know, to like hold me or something.”
Homie
â¢
hovered there.
> :(
i don't have any arms!
Days went by and I kept to myself. With Katie it was easy: she was either hanging out with her dad or she had play practice. But as for Shiloh, it wasn't so easy. She messaged me, asking how I was feeling and if I wanted to go to the motorcycle jamboree with her. But no, I couldn't go to the jamboree with her because I was going with Katie. Only that isn't what I told her. I told her I had to help my friend Oso.