Chapter Text
Memorial Park was probably my favorite place in El Paso, if I had to pick. Not that I had a long list to pick from. Other than my home and this park, there wasn’t anywhere else I liked. I didn’t like El Paso.
It was salubrious (great word). Did it’s job. Nothing special here.
I liked Memorial Park for two reasons. Reason number one: It was right across the street from my house. That meant more time for swimming and less time for traveling. Reason number two: It had a pool.
The pool should actually be the number one reason. I lived for that pool. I would live in that pool if my parents could come with me.
I tried to convince them once that they should buy Memorial Park so that we could own a pool. My dad laughed. Then he said, “Dante, don’t you think that having a pool across the street from your house is good enough?”
“Dad, you of all people know we shouldn’t settle for ‘good enough,’” I said. He laughed again and my mom told me I had the right idea but the wrong cause. I was going to argue again but it was already noon and I was losing daylight.
The pool was different today. Sitting at the edge of the pool was a boy whom I hadn’t seen before. It was hard not to notice him. He looked pensive. Focused. A little somber.
He stared at the water like it was a big mystery that he was trying to figure out.
It wasn’t until he moved from the edge of the pool and into the water that I realized I was watching him for a while now. I had almost forgotten I had come to the pool to swim today. How could I have forgotten something so important like swimming?
But I couldn’t look away. I’d never seen someone look so uncomfortable floating on their back before. He looked like he could maybe use some expertise.
“I can teach you how to swim,” I said. My voice wasn’t my own. My words came out like chirps being ripped from my throat. Frickin allergies.
The boy didn’t say anything back. I could tell he heard me, though, because he stopped floating and turned to stare at me as I sat down and put my feet in the water. He squinted from the sunlight, and I watched as the light sparkled in his deep brown eyes. Something about those eyes. I don’t know what. They were familiar.
He didn’t say anything back so I decided to repeat myself. “I can teach you how to swim, if you want.”
Then he smiled. “You talk funny.”
Damn. Did I sound that ridiculous? I didn’t know how I felt about this kid being so blunt. I wanted to find it rude, but mostly I found myself just wanting to keep him talking to me.
“Allergies,” I explained.
“What are you allergic to?”
“The air,” I said. It just came out. Then he started laughing. That sound. I felt it in my chest and down to my toes. “My name is Dante.”
Then he started laughing even harder. That stung a little. I hated that feeling.
“Sorry,” he apologized.
“It’s okay, people like to laugh at my name.”
“No, no — see, it’s just that my name is Aristotle.”
Aristotle. It was brilliant. I wanted to say his name out loud and feel it resonating in my bones. Aristotle. Aristotle and Dante. What a powerful pair.
“Aristotle,” he repeated. It was like he was listening to my thoughts. I couldn’t help myself. I started to laugh, and then he started to laugh too. Pretty soon we were both laughing our asses off and I don’t think either of us knew why.
But I had a hunch. I think we were both discovering something in one another that we didn’t know existed anywhere but within ourselves. And laughter felt like the only way to share that.
He told me people call him Ari, but his real name was Angel and then said his name with a Mexican accent. “Angel Aristotiles.”
It was beautiful. I wish I could say his name like that, but I was embarrassed of how it might come out. It was bad enough I didn’t even look Mexican. If he heard me fumble his name with my undistinguished Mexican accent then he’d really write me off.
Finally, he accepted my offer to teach him how to swim.
This was exciting. You see, I was an exceptional swimmer. And I just knew that if he let me teach him a few things about the water that he would be impressed by me too. Okay, it was a little conceited. I don’t know why I was so inclined to impress this boy. Maybe it was his sparkling brown eyes, or his great laugh. Or maybe it was the way he could speak with a Mexican accent.
Something about him. I just wanted him to think that I was as great as I already thought he was.
He watched me steadily as I explained each movement down to a science. If he had a notepad, I swear he would have been taking notes. Ari was a good student.
I don’t know how he never learned to swim before, maybe he just never had a teacher to guide him through it. I didn’t ask. By the end of our lesson, he was swimming like a fish.
“There you go! That was really great, Ari,” I said once he came up for air. He made it to one end of the pool and back with the breaststroke. I could tell he looked proud of himself, even if he was too shy to admit it.
He shook out his hair and the water droplets pelted me all around. My reaction must have been amusing to him because he started laughing. He wouldn’t have laughed if he knew that he messed with the wrong boy.
“Very funny. What a nice way to treat your teacher,” I said. As he was opening his mouth to respond I ducked down under the water and latched on his waist to pull him under with me. I was back up and laughing before he could even register what had happened.
When Ari surfaced he had this real surprised look on his face. It made me laugh harder. Then he started laughing too. That seemed to be all we knew how to do with each other. Laugh. I liked it.
Ari had a genuine quality to him that I liked too. He wasn’t a faker. He would tell you what he honestly thought or he wouldn’t say anything at all. I did most of the talking. But I had a hope that might change. It was okay though, I liked talking, and I had a feeling he liked listening. Or else he probably would be out of here by now.
We spent most of the day in that pool. By the time we decided to call it quits my fingers and toes were all shriveled up. “Pasas,” my mom would say. She said it with disdain. “Pasas,” I would reply. But I said it with pride.
I said goodbye to Ari and asked him if he would be back here tomorrow. He said yes.
On my way back to my house, I felt like skipping. I didn’t know if I was allowed to skip. Do boys skip? I didn’t want to care about that. My body wanted to skip. So I did.
I thought about going back to Memorial Park tomorrow and a big smile came onto my face.
I liked Memorial Park for three reasons. Reason number three: Ari would be at Memorial Park.