"This is no longer about getting money. This is bigger than me, it’s the principle. If I felt motivated by the initial game, I am now driven. This is my new life purpose, to take revenge on the lifeguards and the bullies for being so mean and greedy. Not only do I want to gain the money, more importantly I want to take it away from them." |
Henri Matisse, The Swimming Pool (detail), 1952
I’m too scared to open my eyes. So I resolve to use my hands as a guide. Surprisingly I’m doing well despite my self-imposed handicap. I feel for the big coins just like I had been advised. I put as many as I can in my little hands, trying not to drop any in the process. It’s a difficult task that requires patience and agility. My body is moving slowly and awkwardly, my arms flapping up and down in slow motion. The water is creating resistance on my movements, but I am persisting. Once both my hands are full, I clasp them tightly and make my way to the top.
Finally, I gasp for air, my freshly cut bob dripping over my still closed eyes. I don’t bother pushing my hair out of the way, I don’t have time to waste. I try to synchronize my swimming to the thumping of my beating heart, but I am distracted by the other children’s giggles. I remind myself that it’s only a game, but really for me it’s not. The coins are weighing me down and making my strokes slower than usual. I am tiny but mighty. Don’t ever underestimate a little girl’s desire to win.
Today is Canada Day. Per tradition the yearly celebration takes place at my local pool, the beating heart of the village. This is the one day a year when swimmers can get their money back, and potentially even more. As an act of generosity the town allows for whatever amount of money was made, from the pool entry fees of the day, to be thrown back into the pool and for the children to collect and keep. Once all the children have paid and are ready to swim they wait by the fence whilst the lifeguards walk around with the coins, throwing them in the pool. The coins all sink to the bottom like a treasure. But the rumor is that whatever money is not collected goes straight into the lifeguards’ pockets. Which I have a problem with. The lifeguards are never nice to us children.
I reach for the ladder but with full hands it’s hard to hold on to the rails. A few coins drop from one of my hands. I see copper and silver coins slowly making their way to the bottom of the pool again. My heart sinks. For a second I consider going back for them but then I remember their worth. My time and effort should be spent on the big coins, the loonies and toonies. There are plenty but they won’t be shared equally. Which is why I need to hurry. Still, I’m disappointed, and I can’t let that happen again.
I change my strategy. The ladder is too risky. I swim to the edge of the pool and with all my strength and still clamped hands I give myself a big push up. The breeze hits my wet skin but my goosebumps almost immediately fade thanks to the warming summer sun. My eyes are squinted, the combination of the chlorine water and bright sun makes it almost impossible to keep them open. With limited vision, I hear him before I see him. He is calling me over from the other side of the fence, just like he said he would.
It's tempting to run but I can’t, I must stay focused and simply walk fast in a way that is obvious to the lifeguards that I am walking and not running. The pool has strict rules. On the first blow of the whistle you get put in a corner, on your second whistle you have to go home for the day and on the third, you are banned from the pool for the summer. The pool is run by a group of power-tripping teenager lifeguards. Last week I had my first whistle as I sped-walked to the bathroom on my tippy toes, it was an emergency after all, and I wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom before being put in the corner of shame. I am resolved to never hear that whistle again; I won’t give them the satisfaction.
As I walk past the lifeguard he winks at me, I make an exaggerated barfing sound and continue with my mission, I refuse to let him divert me. Once I reach my father, we realize his hands don’t fit through the fence, but mine do. I learn an important lesson. Little girls, even scared ones, matter and contribute. I drop the dripping wet coins in his hands, and he laughs as he counts them. He tells me that he saw the lifeguards drop the bigger coins at the deeper end of the pool and that I should go there for my next round.
Despite my father’s advice I’m hesitant to go to that part of the pool, my comfort has always been in the shallow end. I know I can swim in the deep end. I do this daily at my swimming lesson, but I’ve never done it in my own time, I haven’t had the courage yet. My swimming teacher, who is part of the lifeguard crew, tells me that I’m not a good swimmer but then again, she tells everyone that. But I believe it enough to question myself. Furthermore I don’t want to brave the bullies. The older boys have claimed that part of the pool as their own. They purposefully do cannon bombs with their large bottoms, intentionally splashing the younger ones in the process.
In the end I decide to stick with my system, stay in the shallow end, close my eyes and feel for the big coins. It’s working even though I’m slowed down by all my fears. As I prepare to jump in (not dive, I’m too scared) I hear the harsh blow of a whistle. A classmate who got caught up in the moment forgot the rules and ran. She’s sent to the naughty corner. The older boys are pointing and laughing at her. I can see she’s fighting back tears. I feel a pinch in my heart. This fuels a newfound bravery.
I don’t have a choice; I must face the deep end with all its bullies. This is no longer about getting money. This is bigger than me, it’s the principle. If I felt motivated by the initial game, I am now driven. This is my new life purpose, to take revenge on the lifeguards and the bullies for being so mean and greedy. Not only do I want to gain the money, more importantly I want to take it away from them.
My father gives me an encouraging thumbs up as I walk towards the deep end of the pool. He points on the side that the most gold coins have been dropped, the ones with more worth. I notice one of the older boys has twisted his wet towel to use it as a whip on a younger boy, whilst another is giving his younger brother a wedgie. It’s a war zone. One that the lifeguards always ignore, they prefer to pick on the younger ones. But the bullies are currently distracted with their shenanigans, it’s my moment to sneak in without being noticed.
To avoid drawing attention to myself, I delicately sit by the edge of the pool and slowly go in, without causing a splash. The cold of the water feels harsh on my now warmed up skin. I push the water with my arms as fast as I can and aim for the bottom of the pool, where most of the coins are. Once my hands feel the concrete I search for the larger coins with my hands. But after facing so many fears I find enough courage to open my eyes under water for the first time. After all, with greater risk comes greater reward. This will allow me to collect more coins and more quickly. But that’s when I see him.
I’ve unintentionally entered a blurry staring contest with one of the bullies. I hear some muffled threat coming his way leaving a trail of bubbles. I act quickly before he summons backup. I can handle one but not all of them. My swimming skills outdo his confidence and my lack of it. My swimming classes have clearly paid off. I grab an abundance of gold dollar coins, hardly leaving any behind. I feel as rich as I ever have in my life. I smile as I swim my way up. I return to my father, depositing the money to free my hands to collect more.
When I return to the deep end, the gang of older boys are waiting for me. Sitting on pool noodles guarding their territory, daring me to go in. Now that I have been spotted it will be far more difficult, but I am determined. Before fear can take over, I dive in and aim straight for the bottom. Some of the older boys have beaten me there. But they are clumsy and drop most of the coins they pick up. These are the ones I go for. Little crumbs of gold. One by one my hands are getting fuller. When they figure out my strategy, one of them tries to pull the money out of my hands. But I dodge him and hold on even tighter. A bunch of future millennials, unknowingly experiencing their first economic crises. But I quickly swim away and return to the safety of my father.
Once more I hand him the money that I never needed in the first place, collected for the pure enjoyment of my own gain and depriving others I felt were unworthy. He has now counted my money and tells me that I did very well as he gives me an approving smile.
The lifeguards collectively blow their whistles five times in a row. The signal that the game is over. The pool is closing for the day. I see happy children all around me, excitedly talking with their parents as they hand them warm towels and give them congratulations. The bullies are alone in a corner with no parents watching over them, dripping wet with no dry towels to use as theirs are still drenched from their cruel pranks. They all look defeated.
My father shows me all the money I accumulated over the game. It’s more money than I’ve ever made before. I’m proud of having braved my fears and collected so much money all from the bottom of a pool, of all places.
But as I look around and get ready to continue the celebrations, I wonder why I don’t feel good about it.
Finally, I gasp for air, my freshly cut bob dripping over my still closed eyes. I don’t bother pushing my hair out of the way, I don’t have time to waste. I try to synchronize my swimming to the thumping of my beating heart, but I am distracted by the other children’s giggles. I remind myself that it’s only a game, but really for me it’s not. The coins are weighing me down and making my strokes slower than usual. I am tiny but mighty. Don’t ever underestimate a little girl’s desire to win.
Today is Canada Day. Per tradition the yearly celebration takes place at my local pool, the beating heart of the village. This is the one day a year when swimmers can get their money back, and potentially even more. As an act of generosity the town allows for whatever amount of money was made, from the pool entry fees of the day, to be thrown back into the pool and for the children to collect and keep. Once all the children have paid and are ready to swim they wait by the fence whilst the lifeguards walk around with the coins, throwing them in the pool. The coins all sink to the bottom like a treasure. But the rumor is that whatever money is not collected goes straight into the lifeguards’ pockets. Which I have a problem with. The lifeguards are never nice to us children.
I reach for the ladder but with full hands it’s hard to hold on to the rails. A few coins drop from one of my hands. I see copper and silver coins slowly making their way to the bottom of the pool again. My heart sinks. For a second I consider going back for them but then I remember their worth. My time and effort should be spent on the big coins, the loonies and toonies. There are plenty but they won’t be shared equally. Which is why I need to hurry. Still, I’m disappointed, and I can’t let that happen again.
I change my strategy. The ladder is too risky. I swim to the edge of the pool and with all my strength and still clamped hands I give myself a big push up. The breeze hits my wet skin but my goosebumps almost immediately fade thanks to the warming summer sun. My eyes are squinted, the combination of the chlorine water and bright sun makes it almost impossible to keep them open. With limited vision, I hear him before I see him. He is calling me over from the other side of the fence, just like he said he would.
It's tempting to run but I can’t, I must stay focused and simply walk fast in a way that is obvious to the lifeguards that I am walking and not running. The pool has strict rules. On the first blow of the whistle you get put in a corner, on your second whistle you have to go home for the day and on the third, you are banned from the pool for the summer. The pool is run by a group of power-tripping teenager lifeguards. Last week I had my first whistle as I sped-walked to the bathroom on my tippy toes, it was an emergency after all, and I wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom before being put in the corner of shame. I am resolved to never hear that whistle again; I won’t give them the satisfaction.
As I walk past the lifeguard he winks at me, I make an exaggerated barfing sound and continue with my mission, I refuse to let him divert me. Once I reach my father, we realize his hands don’t fit through the fence, but mine do. I learn an important lesson. Little girls, even scared ones, matter and contribute. I drop the dripping wet coins in his hands, and he laughs as he counts them. He tells me that he saw the lifeguards drop the bigger coins at the deeper end of the pool and that I should go there for my next round.
Despite my father’s advice I’m hesitant to go to that part of the pool, my comfort has always been in the shallow end. I know I can swim in the deep end. I do this daily at my swimming lesson, but I’ve never done it in my own time, I haven’t had the courage yet. My swimming teacher, who is part of the lifeguard crew, tells me that I’m not a good swimmer but then again, she tells everyone that. But I believe it enough to question myself. Furthermore I don’t want to brave the bullies. The older boys have claimed that part of the pool as their own. They purposefully do cannon bombs with their large bottoms, intentionally splashing the younger ones in the process.
In the end I decide to stick with my system, stay in the shallow end, close my eyes and feel for the big coins. It’s working even though I’m slowed down by all my fears. As I prepare to jump in (not dive, I’m too scared) I hear the harsh blow of a whistle. A classmate who got caught up in the moment forgot the rules and ran. She’s sent to the naughty corner. The older boys are pointing and laughing at her. I can see she’s fighting back tears. I feel a pinch in my heart. This fuels a newfound bravery.
I don’t have a choice; I must face the deep end with all its bullies. This is no longer about getting money. This is bigger than me, it’s the principle. If I felt motivated by the initial game, I am now driven. This is my new life purpose, to take revenge on the lifeguards and the bullies for being so mean and greedy. Not only do I want to gain the money, more importantly I want to take it away from them.
My father gives me an encouraging thumbs up as I walk towards the deep end of the pool. He points on the side that the most gold coins have been dropped, the ones with more worth. I notice one of the older boys has twisted his wet towel to use it as a whip on a younger boy, whilst another is giving his younger brother a wedgie. It’s a war zone. One that the lifeguards always ignore, they prefer to pick on the younger ones. But the bullies are currently distracted with their shenanigans, it’s my moment to sneak in without being noticed.
To avoid drawing attention to myself, I delicately sit by the edge of the pool and slowly go in, without causing a splash. The cold of the water feels harsh on my now warmed up skin. I push the water with my arms as fast as I can and aim for the bottom of the pool, where most of the coins are. Once my hands feel the concrete I search for the larger coins with my hands. But after facing so many fears I find enough courage to open my eyes under water for the first time. After all, with greater risk comes greater reward. This will allow me to collect more coins and more quickly. But that’s when I see him.
I’ve unintentionally entered a blurry staring contest with one of the bullies. I hear some muffled threat coming his way leaving a trail of bubbles. I act quickly before he summons backup. I can handle one but not all of them. My swimming skills outdo his confidence and my lack of it. My swimming classes have clearly paid off. I grab an abundance of gold dollar coins, hardly leaving any behind. I feel as rich as I ever have in my life. I smile as I swim my way up. I return to my father, depositing the money to free my hands to collect more.
When I return to the deep end, the gang of older boys are waiting for me. Sitting on pool noodles guarding their territory, daring me to go in. Now that I have been spotted it will be far more difficult, but I am determined. Before fear can take over, I dive in and aim straight for the bottom. Some of the older boys have beaten me there. But they are clumsy and drop most of the coins they pick up. These are the ones I go for. Little crumbs of gold. One by one my hands are getting fuller. When they figure out my strategy, one of them tries to pull the money out of my hands. But I dodge him and hold on even tighter. A bunch of future millennials, unknowingly experiencing their first economic crises. But I quickly swim away and return to the safety of my father.
Once more I hand him the money that I never needed in the first place, collected for the pure enjoyment of my own gain and depriving others I felt were unworthy. He has now counted my money and tells me that I did very well as he gives me an approving smile.
The lifeguards collectively blow their whistles five times in a row. The signal that the game is over. The pool is closing for the day. I see happy children all around me, excitedly talking with their parents as they hand them warm towels and give them congratulations. The bullies are alone in a corner with no parents watching over them, dripping wet with no dry towels to use as theirs are still drenched from their cruel pranks. They all look defeated.
My father shows me all the money I accumulated over the game. It’s more money than I’ve ever made before. I’m proud of having braved my fears and collected so much money all from the bottom of a pool, of all places.
But as I look around and get ready to continue the celebrations, I wonder why I don’t feel good about it.
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Marie-Eve Bernier has published internationally online and in print. She lives in Wellington, New Zealand, with her husband but she often returns to her native Québec. Read more of her work here: marieevewrites.wixsite.com/publications.
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