He's Sweet

 

It’s a sunny, hot day in Florida.  A woman is standing across from me on the pool deck, rustling through her beach bag for sunblock as her anxious child steps toward the pool steps.  She pulls him back by his shirt.  You need sunblock, she says.   Like most 4 year olds, he is pulling away, moving around, twisting and turning, making the sun block application particularly challenging.  The mom sighs, finishes, and then slides his arms through the colorful swimmy, securing it closed behind his small back.  She takes his hand to walk to the pool, but he quickly pulls his hand away and walks confidently beside her, onto the steps and into the water.  She sits down on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water, watching her boy as he chatters on and on to himself, kicking and splashing, oblivious to anyone else in the pool.  The are several adults sitting around the pool edged and in the pool.  They all smile at the happy boy, laughing as he splashes around.  After a while, he tires from the pool and his mom stands to help him out.  She unhooks the swimmy from around his waist and uses the small pool towel to dry him off.  He’s just a child, and the small towel easily wraps entirely around his little body.  Wrapped like a mummy, she lifts him onto the chaise and hands him a bag of apple slices.  She kisses his wet head.  He smiles at her and I hear her say I love you and he yells I love you too!  and everyone around them smiles.  The mom looks up and catches me staring.  He’s sweet, I say with a smile and she smiles back.

I look back at Coleman  - he is standing on the pool deck, staring at the birds.  He loves birds lately, and watches completely entranced as they take flight.  He stares at them, turning every which way to keep their magical path in his view.  It’s time to swim, I say.  But he doesn’t move and doesn’t take his eyes off the sky.  I reach for the sunblock and start to spray his neck.  He pulls away, but I pull him back by his shirt.  I spray some more, and he squirms just like the 4 year old, until he finally demands ‘All done!” and I sigh and drop the sunblock can back into my beach bag.  I feel eyes on us as I take his hand and pull him from his spot on the deck toward the pool steps.  He’s not a great swimmer, but he’s taller than the 4 foot depth of the pool so steps easily into the warm water.  He glides to the center of the pool, talking in scripts to himself, and looks up once again toward the sky, scanning the birds.  I sit on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, watching my boy.  The adults from earlier are still there, sitting around the deck, wading in the warm water.  I can feel their eyes again.  On him, on me.  I look up but they look away.  I resist the urge to explain Coleman and his scripting and his new fascination with the birds.  After a while, he is ready for a snack and I take his hand to help him out of the pool.  I take off his sun shirt and I can feel the eyes on us again.  He’s small but has the body of a man.  I look up but they turn away.  I drape the towel over Coleman’s shoulders and guide him to the nearby chaise where he sits under a big umbrella.  I open his favorite yogurt and hand it to him with a spoon.   I kiss the top of his wet head and whisper I love you but he doesn’t say anything back.  I take a deep breath and avoid looking toward the pool.  My gaze lands instead at the mom and boy we saw earlier, still sitting in the chaise across the pool from us.  She is looking at Coleman, and then me, but she doesn’t look away when our eyes meet.  He’s sweet, she says and smiles.  I smile back.  And that made everything better.