awful hot. After he got down some ham and ginger ale, he said: “You know what I’d like to do?”
“What’s that, Mr. Coolidge?”
“Go swimming.”
“And ruin all those clothes?”
“Oh, we got suits.”
“You have?”
“In the car. Right in the dashboard.”
“But we girls, we’re to swim in our birthday clothes?”
“Well, we could take turns on the suits—”
“How you know we haven’t got suits?”
So they dug in a closet and came up with Lina’s brother’s suit, which was blue flannel shorts and a white woolen shirt, and her sister-in-law’s suit, which was a one-piece job with the little short skirt they wore at that time. Then Denny and I got our suits from the car. Then an argument started as to where we’d put them on. Denny said one locker room for the four of us, and Fats acted like she had no objection. But Lina took her in the bedroom, and he and I put on our suits by the counter. Pretty soon both girls ran by outside, on the catwalk that ran around the place, and skipped on down to the water, giggling.
Lina had a hard, trashy face, but in the brother’s outfit, with the blue pants flapping and the white shirt hugging her, she had something. In the water she didn’t squeal and splash like Fats did, but really liked to swim, and could. When I got out there she was in deep water, headed for a float, so I went out there too. Pretty soon we had it to ourselves, letting the swells rock us, with Denny and Fats and their whoopdedo where we could hardly hear them. She watched me, then: “You do a nice crawl, Jack, all except your arms. You’re forcing them out, and it’s all right for a pool, maybe. But on long stretches it sure will wear you down.
“How do you get them out?”
“Roll ’em out.”
She swam for me, and showed me. “Roll out your elbow first and leave it lift your hand out. And relax your hand, so it goes limp. And sling it forward, don’t push it. Sling it easy. Let your middle finger riffle the water as it goes along. And don’t reach. Don’t stretch for distance and grab. And don’t dig your hand in. Roll it in. Roll it in, blade your hand, and let your weight push you ahead. It’s all in rolling your hips to get foot action and your shoulders for arm drive. Do it right you can keep it up all day. Do it wrong you poop out in fifty feet.”
It was play the way I liked to play, quiet, friendly, close.
But there was no getting around it, the air might be hot but the water was cold, and pretty soon we had to come in. So of course Denny and Fats came too. She was all out of breath from laughing and he from making her laugh. In the shack it was so hot you could smell oilcloth, suits, ham, mustard, pop, and girls. Lina opened Cokes and we drank them. I took mine to a table by the window, where there was air coming in. Lina turned on a fan and let it blow her hair around. Denny moved to get some of it, but just shifted from one counter stool to the other. Fats was at the end of the counter, and all of a sudden there was a spitting sound and something popped Denny in the eye and she began chasing a cat. Denny wiped off his face, and went back in the kitchen to look, and Fats kept on talking about how that darned cat kept spitting at people. Lina looked at me and winked. Denny came back and took another swig at his pop. Then here came the spitting sound again and Fats chased the cat again and Denny went out to look again and Lina winked at me again. Then I saw what had happened. Lina had opened two or three spares, and Fats had one, out of sight from Denny under the counter, and she’d shake it up, keep her thumb over it, and then when the pressure was good, she’d ease her thumb and a little pip of foam would spit out and hit Denny in the eye. Then right away she’d kick at the cat, chase it, and hide the bottle. If you ask me Denny was fooled, but maybe he wanted to be. Then he caught her at it, and that was all it needed. In just about ten seconds the whole
“What’s that, Mr. Coolidge?”
“Go swimming.”
“And ruin all those clothes?”
“Oh, we got suits.”
“You have?”
“In the car. Right in the dashboard.”
“But we girls, we’re to swim in our birthday clothes?”
“Well, we could take turns on the suits—”
“How you know we haven’t got suits?”
So they dug in a closet and came up with Lina’s brother’s suit, which was blue flannel shorts and a white woolen shirt, and her sister-in-law’s suit, which was a one-piece job with the little short skirt they wore at that time. Then Denny and I got our suits from the car. Then an argument started as to where we’d put them on. Denny said one locker room for the four of us, and Fats acted like she had no objection. But Lina took her in the bedroom, and he and I put on our suits by the counter. Pretty soon both girls ran by outside, on the catwalk that ran around the place, and skipped on down to the water, giggling.
Lina had a hard, trashy face, but in the brother’s outfit, with the blue pants flapping and the white shirt hugging her, she had something. In the water she didn’t squeal and splash like Fats did, but really liked to swim, and could. When I got out there she was in deep water, headed for a float, so I went out there too. Pretty soon we had it to ourselves, letting the swells rock us, with Denny and Fats and their whoopdedo where we could hardly hear them. She watched me, then: “You do a nice crawl, Jack, all except your arms. You’re forcing them out, and it’s all right for a pool, maybe. But on long stretches it sure will wear you down.
“How do you get them out?”
“Roll ’em out.”
She swam for me, and showed me. “Roll out your elbow first and leave it lift your hand out. And relax your hand, so it goes limp. And sling it forward, don’t push it. Sling it easy. Let your middle finger riffle the water as it goes along. And don’t reach. Don’t stretch for distance and grab. And don’t dig your hand in. Roll it in. Roll it in, blade your hand, and let your weight push you ahead. It’s all in rolling your hips to get foot action and your shoulders for arm drive. Do it right you can keep it up all day. Do it wrong you poop out in fifty feet.”
It was play the way I liked to play, quiet, friendly, close.
But there was no getting around it, the air might be hot but the water was cold, and pretty soon we had to come in. So of course Denny and Fats came too. She was all out of breath from laughing and he from making her laugh. In the shack it was so hot you could smell oilcloth, suits, ham, mustard, pop, and girls. Lina opened Cokes and we drank them. I took mine to a table by the window, where there was air coming in. Lina turned on a fan and let it blow her hair around. Denny moved to get some of it, but just shifted from one counter stool to the other. Fats was at the end of the counter, and all of a sudden there was a spitting sound and something popped Denny in the eye and she began chasing a cat. Denny wiped off his face, and went back in the kitchen to look, and Fats kept on talking about how that darned cat kept spitting at people. Lina looked at me and winked. Denny came back and took another swig at his pop. Then here came the spitting sound again and Fats chased the cat again and Denny went out to look again and Lina winked at me again. Then I saw what had happened. Lina had opened two or three spares, and Fats had one, out of sight from Denny under the counter, and she’d shake it up, keep her thumb over it, and then when the pressure was good, she’d ease her thumb and a little pip of foam would spit out and hit Denny in the eye. Then right away she’d kick at the cat, chase it, and hide the bottle. If you ask me Denny was fooled, but maybe he wanted to be. Then he caught her at it, and that was all it needed. In just about ten seconds the whole
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