Argon again. I brought my parents dinner. My brother came over as well. We ate on the couch, he ate at the table. I griped at my mom for not eating enough. Too soon afterwards, for me, we all went for a night swim. I wore a bathing suit of my mom's. It was an eggplant one piece with high cut "they-make-your-legs-look-longer" thigh holes. Some velvet and mesh were also involved, but I was too busy trying to keep my fatty pubis contained to notice.
Mom led the way, always the gatekeeper. As we entered, a neighbor at the other end of the pool was straddling a neon green styrofoam noodle. He eyed us sideways. My brother said, "We're minorities." I responded, "Not in the grand scheme of things." We synchronously sunk into the pool. Noodledude bounced up and down on the tubular foam a few more times. Then, Dad swam 'cross the imaginary line to ND's half of the pool. He left shortly after this egregious violation of unspoken public swim etiquette.
Dad looked thin. The foot long scar on his stomach appeared more prominent than normal. His nipples, small like Kate Moss', only darker. It was the first time we swam together in forever, it felt. A decade, perhaps? We floated on our backs. We did the otter thing. We totally fucking did the otter thing. We reminisced about (at times reenacted) how he taught me how to swim at the Best Western pool on Boston Post Road. And how after our swim seshes, he'd take me to Dairy Queen to get a dipped cone, hair still wet, emanating chlorine.
I could really go for one right about now.