Reflections in Blue Water
Richard Bist
My wife, Maggie, never could tell a joke.
I was once again reminded of this fact while listening to her attempt to tell one at the Johnson’s dinner party. We had already finished our four course exercise in overindulgence, during which numerous bottles vintage wine were consumed. The guests were then ushered in to the fabled game room, complete with a cherry-wood pool table as the centerpiece and a Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner. Now the silk neckties were loosened and alabaster skin was flushing red under the light of Italian wall sconces.
Charles Campbell and I were throwing darts and sipping our well-aged Scotch when I overheard Maggie’s voice rising above the din.
“Hush, hush,” she slurred to the group standing around her, waving her hand as if it could mute sound. Her black satin dress was almost lost among the sea of designer evening wear, but I was able to pick her out of the crowd by the sparkling tiara that sat perched on top of her yellow curls. She paused long enough to take another sip of her Tom Collins, then snapped her fingers for attention. The conversation slowly died down, and when Maggie felt she had center stage, she began her long introduction to the joke.
I was just about to throw another dart when Charles elbowed me in the ribs. My shot went wide and the dart imbedded itself into the mahogany paneling.
“Hey Jon, don’t you want to hear this?” he asked.
I sighed and shook my head. “Not really. She practiced on me all afternoon. Besides that, I lost my sense of humor about ten years ago.”
“Ten years ago?” Charles mused, then it hit him. “Oh, you mean when you got married!” That one sent him into peals of laughter, and he turned and stumbled over to join Maggie’s audience.
I watched as the bodies pressed together around my wife, each clinging tightly to their drink of choice and leaning against one another for support. It seemed like this crowd drank in relation to their wealth. Only the finest imported wine and liquor would do. There would never be a six-pack of domestic beer in any of their refrigerators. That’s why I was always a few drinks behind the rest of them. I felt out of place drinking from a bottle that cost more than I earned in a month, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to use Maggie’s family money to support my bad habits.
No one was paying attention to me as I slipped out the sliding glass door and into the backyard. The last thing I heard before I slid the door closed behind me was Maggie finishing her tale of where she heard the joke and how side-splittingly funny it was. I noticed that she glossed over the fact that she’d heard it from our maid. That wouldn’t have been proper.
The night air was cool and refreshing, and I was glad to get away from all the cigar smoke and French perfumes. I walked along a garden path that wound its way through rows of rare flowers and manicured shrubs, a myriad of colors and shapes that even the dark couldn’t suppress. I assumed a team of landscapers must have toiled for weeks to lay it all out, guys who earned their minimum wage baking under the south Florida sun and returned to their mobile homes at night to cool off with an oscillating fan and a six-pack of Old Milwaukee.
Eventually, the path brought me to the Johnson’s swimming pool. It was a monstrosity of concrete and blue water. Olympic swim meets could have been held in this thing. It had to be close to fifty yards long, and about thirty wide. A diving board hung over the deep end, and in a tribute to bad taste, Bettie Johnson had a fountain placed right in the middle of the shallow end. The stone Cupid gave me a pleasant smile as I walked by. He didn’t seem to mind me watching as he peed in the pool.
I’ve never actually seen the Johnson’s swim, although I’m sure they paid some guy to come out and clean their pool every week. I don’t know about Bettie’s habits, but the only time I ever saw Fred Johnson get near water was when he splashed it into his Scotch.
As I walked along the hand-painted ceramic tile on the edge of the pool, I set my drink down on one of the patio tables and loosened my tie. Despite the night air, I was sweating. Probably the alcohol, although I usually don’t get the sweats until the day after. I paused to remove my sport coat, then threw it and my tie over the back of a rod iron chair.
Looking at the dark, blue water of the pool, I remembered back to when Maggie and I were dating in college. We had cut out of her sorority party sometime around midnight and headed out to a pond that was just off campus. Not many people knew it was there, and that night Maggie had gotten it into her head that she wanted to go skinny dipping. Nothing I could say would dissuade her, and besides that, we were both young and drunk. I parked her car behind some brush so it couldn’t be seen from the road, then we hurried through the woods to the water’s edge.
It was a night not unlike this one. The sky was clear with a million stars twinkling above us, the moon a mere sliver. We were giggling and whispering as if someone might hear us as we stripped off our clothes amid the cover of the pine trees, then hand in hand we raced into the water. It was cold, and we both yelled out as we took the plunge. Shivering and covered in goose-bumps, we clung to one another for warmth. That night was the first time we made love, in the inky water, surrounded by the reflection of the universe.
I now stood on the diving board above the swimming pool, gazing at the stars reflected on the water’s surface. That night at the pond seemed like only yesterday, but in my heart I knew it was so very long ago. Too much has happened since then. When we went back for our ten year reunion last month, the pond was gone, filled in and paved over for a parking lot. I think a part of me was buried there, as well.
~ ~ ~
The last time I saw the pond was on our wedding day. I stopped by there on my way to the church, although it was twenty miles out of my way. I needed to see it one last time before taking my vows. I wasn’t nervous. I had no reason to be. Maggie’s parents had refused to attend the wedding, so I didn’t have to worry about them making a scene like they did on the night we announced our engagement. They didn’t want to condone their daughter’s marriage to someone outside their social standing. I couldn’t care less. Despite what her parents said to anyone who would listen, I wasn’t interested in her money, I was in love.
It was late morning when I finally made it to the end of the path and stood at the edge of the pond. I was trying to be careful and not get any mud on the patent leather dress shoes Maggie had bought me. It was the first pair I had ever owned. The pond looked different in the daylight. The water was still and smooth, like a polished gem. The surrounding pine trees were reflected on the surface, as was the cloudless sky, giving the water a blue sheen. This was the place where I had fallen in love, with fifteen dollars to my name and a pair of tennis shoes held together with duct tape. In another two hours I wouldn’t have to want for anything ever again. Maggie would see to that.
And what would I be giving her in return? That was the question bothering me. Was it sex? Companionship? Or would it be something else, something less appealing? The men who ran in her parents circle were corporate types, CEO’s and the like, and the women were submissive and supportive. Trophies. Maggie couldn’t conform to that life, and with me on her arm she would never have to.
I picked up a stone and held it tightly in my hand as I gazed out on our pond, wishing I could go back in time. It was too late for that now. I threw the stone as hard as I could and watched as it hit the water with a splash. I had expected the surface to shatter like a mirror, but that didn’t happen. The few ripples that formed were quick to disappear, and within a minute or two the surface of the pond was again smooth and unblemished.
~ ~ ~
With one last glance up at the night sky, I stepped off the diving board and felt the blue water envelop me, cold and sobering. I drifted downward until my shoes scraped the bottom of the pool. The only sounds were the soft hum of the filtration system and Cupid relieving himself in the shallow end. I stayed below the surface for as long as I could, my eyes closed tightly as I waited for something to happen. In my mind I could see Marcia smiling at me on our wedding day, her face alight with joy as she leaned in to kiss me.
Through the years that smile hadn’t changed much. Maybe there were a few more wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, but that light was still there, and I had to wonder why I hadn’t realized that before.
Finally, with my lungs burning, I pushed myself upwards until I surfaced and once again felt the night air on my face. I gasped for breath and looked around. From this angle the pool didn’t appear quite as imposing as it did when I first saw it. Somehow it seemed smaller. I rolled onto my back and gently kicked my legs, propelling myself towards the steps in the shallow end as I admired the stars above me. They looked different, as well. Brighter, closer, more real. Or maybe it was the fact that I was looking at them from a different perspective.
I stepped out of the water and retrieved my coat and tie, then made my way back to the house. I entered the game room just in time to hear Maggie deliver the punch line. As usual, her timing was off, and instead of a roar of laughter, all she received for her trouble was a few courtesy laughs and a number of groans. I waited by the door until the crowd broke up and slipped off into their usual groups before I crossed the room, my shoes sloshing as I left a trail of chlorinated water in my wake. I passed Charles on the way and he asked if I wanted to finish our game. I told him I didn’t think so. He started to turn away, but then paused and looked back at me.
“You look different,” he commented, squinting his eyes. “Did you take off your glasses?”
“Yeah, that must be it,” I replied. I didn’t care to tell remind him that I never wore glasses. Charles laughed as he stumbled off. I shook my head and walked over to Maggie as she held reign over the far end of the bar.
“Honey! Where were you?” she asked as I approached her. “I needed you here for moral support.”
“Oh, sorry. I needed some fresh air, so I stepped outside for a few minutes. Did I miss anything?”
She thought about this for a moment, then shook her head. “No, nothing really. Could you fix me another drink?”
“Sure,” I said, taking her glass. As I turned she grabbed my arm.
“Do you realize you’re soaking wet?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Did you know there’s a pool out back?”
Maggie nodded, then a big smile appeared on her face.
“Maybe we can go swimming later, like old times,” she said.
“Yeah,” I smiled in return. “Like old times.”
Richard Bist
My wife, Maggie, never could tell a joke.
I was once again reminded of this fact while listening to her attempt to tell one at the Johnson’s dinner party. We had already finished our four course exercise in overindulgence, during which numerous bottles vintage wine were consumed. The guests were then ushered in to the fabled game room, complete with a cherry-wood pool table as the centerpiece and a Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner. Now the silk neckties were loosened and alabaster skin was flushing red under the light of Italian wall sconces.
Charles Campbell and I were throwing darts and sipping our well-aged Scotch when I overheard Maggie’s voice rising above the din.
“Hush, hush,” she slurred to the group standing around her, waving her hand as if it could mute sound. Her black satin dress was almost lost among the sea of designer evening wear, but I was able to pick her out of the crowd by the sparkling tiara that sat perched on top of her yellow curls. She paused long enough to take another sip of her Tom Collins, then snapped her fingers for attention. The conversation slowly died down, and when Maggie felt she had center stage, she began her long introduction to the joke.
I was just about to throw another dart when Charles elbowed me in the ribs. My shot went wide and the dart imbedded itself into the mahogany paneling.
“Hey Jon, don’t you want to hear this?” he asked.
I sighed and shook my head. “Not really. She practiced on me all afternoon. Besides that, I lost my sense of humor about ten years ago.”
“Ten years ago?” Charles mused, then it hit him. “Oh, you mean when you got married!” That one sent him into peals of laughter, and he turned and stumbled over to join Maggie’s audience.
I watched as the bodies pressed together around my wife, each clinging tightly to their drink of choice and leaning against one another for support. It seemed like this crowd drank in relation to their wealth. Only the finest imported wine and liquor would do. There would never be a six-pack of domestic beer in any of their refrigerators. That’s why I was always a few drinks behind the rest of them. I felt out of place drinking from a bottle that cost more than I earned in a month, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to use Maggie’s family money to support my bad habits.
No one was paying attention to me as I slipped out the sliding glass door and into the backyard. The last thing I heard before I slid the door closed behind me was Maggie finishing her tale of where she heard the joke and how side-splittingly funny it was. I noticed that she glossed over the fact that she’d heard it from our maid. That wouldn’t have been proper.
The night air was cool and refreshing, and I was glad to get away from all the cigar smoke and French perfumes. I walked along a garden path that wound its way through rows of rare flowers and manicured shrubs, a myriad of colors and shapes that even the dark couldn’t suppress. I assumed a team of landscapers must have toiled for weeks to lay it all out, guys who earned their minimum wage baking under the south Florida sun and returned to their mobile homes at night to cool off with an oscillating fan and a six-pack of Old Milwaukee.
Eventually, the path brought me to the Johnson’s swimming pool. It was a monstrosity of concrete and blue water. Olympic swim meets could have been held in this thing. It had to be close to fifty yards long, and about thirty wide. A diving board hung over the deep end, and in a tribute to bad taste, Bettie Johnson had a fountain placed right in the middle of the shallow end. The stone Cupid gave me a pleasant smile as I walked by. He didn’t seem to mind me watching as he peed in the pool.
I’ve never actually seen the Johnson’s swim, although I’m sure they paid some guy to come out and clean their pool every week. I don’t know about Bettie’s habits, but the only time I ever saw Fred Johnson get near water was when he splashed it into his Scotch.
As I walked along the hand-painted ceramic tile on the edge of the pool, I set my drink down on one of the patio tables and loosened my tie. Despite the night air, I was sweating. Probably the alcohol, although I usually don’t get the sweats until the day after. I paused to remove my sport coat, then threw it and my tie over the back of a rod iron chair.
Looking at the dark, blue water of the pool, I remembered back to when Maggie and I were dating in college. We had cut out of her sorority party sometime around midnight and headed out to a pond that was just off campus. Not many people knew it was there, and that night Maggie had gotten it into her head that she wanted to go skinny dipping. Nothing I could say would dissuade her, and besides that, we were both young and drunk. I parked her car behind some brush so it couldn’t be seen from the road, then we hurried through the woods to the water’s edge.
It was a night not unlike this one. The sky was clear with a million stars twinkling above us, the moon a mere sliver. We were giggling and whispering as if someone might hear us as we stripped off our clothes amid the cover of the pine trees, then hand in hand we raced into the water. It was cold, and we both yelled out as we took the plunge. Shivering and covered in goose-bumps, we clung to one another for warmth. That night was the first time we made love, in the inky water, surrounded by the reflection of the universe.
I now stood on the diving board above the swimming pool, gazing at the stars reflected on the water’s surface. That night at the pond seemed like only yesterday, but in my heart I knew it was so very long ago. Too much has happened since then. When we went back for our ten year reunion last month, the pond was gone, filled in and paved over for a parking lot. I think a part of me was buried there, as well.
~ ~ ~
The last time I saw the pond was on our wedding day. I stopped by there on my way to the church, although it was twenty miles out of my way. I needed to see it one last time before taking my vows. I wasn’t nervous. I had no reason to be. Maggie’s parents had refused to attend the wedding, so I didn’t have to worry about them making a scene like they did on the night we announced our engagement. They didn’t want to condone their daughter’s marriage to someone outside their social standing. I couldn’t care less. Despite what her parents said to anyone who would listen, I wasn’t interested in her money, I was in love.
It was late morning when I finally made it to the end of the path and stood at the edge of the pond. I was trying to be careful and not get any mud on the patent leather dress shoes Maggie had bought me. It was the first pair I had ever owned. The pond looked different in the daylight. The water was still and smooth, like a polished gem. The surrounding pine trees were reflected on the surface, as was the cloudless sky, giving the water a blue sheen. This was the place where I had fallen in love, with fifteen dollars to my name and a pair of tennis shoes held together with duct tape. In another two hours I wouldn’t have to want for anything ever again. Maggie would see to that.
And what would I be giving her in return? That was the question bothering me. Was it sex? Companionship? Or would it be something else, something less appealing? The men who ran in her parents circle were corporate types, CEO’s and the like, and the women were submissive and supportive. Trophies. Maggie couldn’t conform to that life, and with me on her arm she would never have to.
I picked up a stone and held it tightly in my hand as I gazed out on our pond, wishing I could go back in time. It was too late for that now. I threw the stone as hard as I could and watched as it hit the water with a splash. I had expected the surface to shatter like a mirror, but that didn’t happen. The few ripples that formed were quick to disappear, and within a minute or two the surface of the pond was again smooth and unblemished.
~ ~ ~
With one last glance up at the night sky, I stepped off the diving board and felt the blue water envelop me, cold and sobering. I drifted downward until my shoes scraped the bottom of the pool. The only sounds were the soft hum of the filtration system and Cupid relieving himself in the shallow end. I stayed below the surface for as long as I could, my eyes closed tightly as I waited for something to happen. In my mind I could see Marcia smiling at me on our wedding day, her face alight with joy as she leaned in to kiss me.
Through the years that smile hadn’t changed much. Maybe there were a few more wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, but that light was still there, and I had to wonder why I hadn’t realized that before.
Finally, with my lungs burning, I pushed myself upwards until I surfaced and once again felt the night air on my face. I gasped for breath and looked around. From this angle the pool didn’t appear quite as imposing as it did when I first saw it. Somehow it seemed smaller. I rolled onto my back and gently kicked my legs, propelling myself towards the steps in the shallow end as I admired the stars above me. They looked different, as well. Brighter, closer, more real. Or maybe it was the fact that I was looking at them from a different perspective.
I stepped out of the water and retrieved my coat and tie, then made my way back to the house. I entered the game room just in time to hear Maggie deliver the punch line. As usual, her timing was off, and instead of a roar of laughter, all she received for her trouble was a few courtesy laughs and a number of groans. I waited by the door until the crowd broke up and slipped off into their usual groups before I crossed the room, my shoes sloshing as I left a trail of chlorinated water in my wake. I passed Charles on the way and he asked if I wanted to finish our game. I told him I didn’t think so. He started to turn away, but then paused and looked back at me.
“You look different,” he commented, squinting his eyes. “Did you take off your glasses?”
“Yeah, that must be it,” I replied. I didn’t care to tell remind him that I never wore glasses. Charles laughed as he stumbled off. I shook my head and walked over to Maggie as she held reign over the far end of the bar.
“Honey! Where were you?” she asked as I approached her. “I needed you here for moral support.”
“Oh, sorry. I needed some fresh air, so I stepped outside for a few minutes. Did I miss anything?”
She thought about this for a moment, then shook her head. “No, nothing really. Could you fix me another drink?”
“Sure,” I said, taking her glass. As I turned she grabbed my arm.
“Do you realize you’re soaking wet?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Did you know there’s a pool out back?”
Maggie nodded, then a big smile appeared on her face.
“Maybe we can go swimming later, like old times,” she said.
“Yeah,” I smiled in return. “Like old times.”
