Finding A Place

Chapter 4

I got up the next morning, did some laundry, went to brunch. By the time I got back from brunch and retrieved my laundry, it was still only 11:30. I had an hour and a half to kill before Sheila came over to study. I ended up walking the campus-and somehow ended up at the aquatic center.

There were stands-swimming was an important sport at Stanford, our team was always nationally ranked, and the meets actually got respectable crowds. So, I parked myself a few rows up and watched. There were a number of people swimming, but I picked her out immediately.

I'd known she was a swimmer, and I knew what swimming entailed. And I'd seen her body-well, under a tee shirt and shorts, but I had an idea about her muscles. But I wasn't prepared for how she looked powering her way through the water. She was doing the backstroke, and she moved faster than I ever could've imagined. I'd seen swimming at the Olympics, of course, but seeing on TV didn't come close. Watching her backstroke through the water was like watching a motorboat-except this motorboat was powered by sheer muscle. It was riveting.

I shouldn't have come. That was my first thought. If I was intimidated by her before this-and I was-this was even more intimidating. I thought about leaving-but I was riveted. After I came to the decision that I was going to leave-Sheila came out of the pool for a break, and saw me.

"BRENDAN! Hi!" she yelled, and then came over to me. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know, I was wandering the campus, killing time, and I decided I wanted to see you swim."

"Cool!" she said. "I'm glad. What did you think?"

"I'm flabbergasted," I said. "It's so much faster in person."

"Everybody says that," she giggled. "Are you going to stick around? I just need to do a few more laps in a couple minutes, then we can go study."

"OK," I said, trying to convince myself.

I ended up staying. Every time I thought about leaving, she paused in her laps and grinned at me. And it really was impressive to watch. The problem was, I had somehow avoided being my usual hopeless tongue-tied self around this girl-and I was afraid, after watching what she was capable of, I was going to revert to type.

Anyhow, I stayed, and she went out to change and I waited for her. I think the image of her powering through the water was forever imbedded on my mind. Also, I admit it, the image of her standing in front of me, wet, wearing a bathing suit!

She came out and we walked to my dorm. She was dressed more-or-less as she usually was-shorts and a blouse-but I couldn't see her that way anymore. As I had feared, the old tongue-tied Brendan was in full presence.

"You OK?" she asked me after a while.

"Fine," I said.

"Look, if you don't want to do this today..." she began.

"Of course I do," I said. "I'm fine. Really."

"No, you're not, but I'm not going to press the issue."

How did this girl get me to talk? Before I could stop myself, I told her, "Look. I told you I get shy."

"Never around me," she said.

"I've never seen you swim before," I said softly. She looked at me, but didn't say anything.

Once we got back to my room, I was better-because we were back in my element. But the memory lingered long after she had left.

"That's cool, I'm going to a party tomorrow night. 1 in the afternoon OK? I have to swim before that."

"That's fine," I said.