Second First Impressions

Jordan approaches. “Sandy’s running ten minutes late. If you can get them to just start warming up, that’d be great. I’ve got to stay on the front desk. Just get them to tread water or something.”

“Sure, I can do that. Okay, ladies. Sandy’s running a bit behind, so we’ll start.” I could lead an entire half-hour class. Maybe I’ve been waiting for this moment. After the warm-up, will I transition them into flutter kicks or leg lifts? Before I can decide, I’m interrupted.

“Teddy can teach aqua aerobics,” Renata says from behind us. “What do you think, girls?” A big cheer goes up. She cackles. “This oughta be good for a laugh.”

“Stand aside,” Teddy says to me as he twists his hair into a bun worthy of a cool magazine photo shoot. His torso moves and flexes with the movement and I need to lower myself onto a tranquilizer dart. “It’s time for me to get these women warmed up.”

“Already am,” someone calls out and the screams of laughter almost deafen me.

“Okay, let’s get started. Walk on the spot.” They’re all smiling, faces tipped up to him like sunflowers, water roiling. “Swish your arms like this.” He demonstrates.

Of course he’s good at this. I make a long echoing noise like urgggggggg.

Anything I can do with complete competence, a young man can do with less technical ability but more fanfare. I’ve never gotten a cheer, not once. I don’t think anyone even

notices a single thing I do for them. I’ve still got marks on my arms from all the purses they hung on me.

“Don’t look so grouchy, Ruthie Maree,” Aggie says to me when I go to sit with them on the bleachers. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s so annoying.” I glare at his beautiful back and blot my face with my T-shirt. “I’ve arranged this entire thing and come to every session for two years, and he thinks he can just . . .” I lose my words when he begins to do that walk-like-an-Egyptian dance along the edge of the pool.

To stop myself from cracking a smile, I say with temper, “He’s. So. Damn. Funny.” I bury my face in my folded arms.

I peek up because Renata has been silent throughout this; she’s captivated by the poolside shenanigans, bouncing on her tiny butt, imagining herself doing the moves. She walks like a seated Egyptian. It’s heartbreakingly sweet and I think she loves Teddy to pieces.

Then she ruins it. “Why’s everything a big deal with you?” Renata ponders at her usual volume. “Just do it. You’re a supermodel next to all those saggy old hens.”

(Some of those hens look as if they would drown her if they could.)

“Fine, fine.” I pull my T-shirt off over my head, step out of my shorts, and plunge myself in before I have another thought about it. How long has it been since I stepped into icy water? Years.

When I surface, I try very hard to not objectify Teddy, but the fluorescent lights are giving the flat planes of his muscles a heavenly glow, and cutting darker shadows between them. It’s inexplicable that such an unhurried, cheese-eating person has a body like this. But he does, and what a treat. I lose strength in my legs and I sink down to my eyeballs.

“Please welcome to the class Miss Ruthie Midona,” he tells the group, and now I’m getting the smiles and cheers.

I get it now. Life requires full, up-to-the-neck participation. And for the next few minutes, we obey Teddy as our instructor. Every dance move he can think of, we’re doing it. We’re moonwalking. We’re doing the twist. We’re singing lyrics. The Parlonis are clapping along. We’re all shrieking with laughter and half drowning, and I’m not as fit as I thought. But I’m having the most fun I’ve had in years.

“You must be Sandy,” Teddy says when our regular instructor arrives all sweating and flustered. “I kept them all nice and warm for you.” And with that, he performs an illegal cannonball that almost wets the ceiling and swims up to me. “Can you believe we’re being paid to do this?” he says, scraping his hands up his face.

I really can’t believe it. On a weekday midmorning, earning actual money, we do aqua aerobics.

I didn’t know that guys could be so open to try new things. But Teddy is. He’s either laughing, or earnestly concentrating with a crease on his brow. His arm curls are magnificent. We line up against the side to perform push-ups and he doesn’t notice how the oldies angle for a space either side of him. No one needs to get jealous; he mingles and shares himself around. For anyone getting tired, he provides a shoulder to hang on to. I am almost needing it myself.

I know he’s being paid for this, but really the bare minimum required of him was to drive the Parlonis here. The way he spreads around his energy and kindness is so generous. He’s completely, deep-down lovely, standing there with elderly ladies hanging on his shoulders, just so they can feel that kind of youth and beauty firsthand.

It’s sad that he doesn’t realize how generous he really is.

We’re allowed ten minutes of free time after the class and we hand around pool noodles for floating. I think I should get out, so I can get dressed and position myself to help, but Teddy might watch the extraction process. I wait for a minute, hoping he might haul himself out and wander off, but he’s enjoying himself too much. He’s got a floatation ring around his neck and is carrying Mrs. Washington piggyback through the water. She looks like she could die happy tonight.

I didn’t think this through. I’d be climbing that ladder into the heaven-bright light, water streaming down my butt and thighs. I haven’t worn this swimsuit in years and it’s shrunk up my crack. The backs of my knees are really weird. I’m completely stuck in this moment I should never have stolen to begin with.

“What’s up?” Teddy swims over to me, his passenger now dismounted. “You look like you need to pee. Hold it in, girl. Think dry thoughts.”

“Come on, you know I’m not a rule breaker.”

“I’d say I’m relieved, but . . .” He laughs until I worry for his own bladder. Now he swims around me in a circle. “But seriously, what’s up? You’re stressin’.”

“When I get out of this pool, I want you to close your eyes.”