Blame It On My Youth

Vincenzo The Victorious

"Mommy's coming!"

By the time Mommy struggled to her feet, a lifeguard had plunged into the water. He scooped Debi out and brought her to the shore. She coughed and spat out a mouthful of saltwater. As he checked her over, Mommy and I caught up to them.

"Mommy. I, I..." Debra started to cry.

"She's more scared than anything," the lifeguard said.

I put my arms around Debi and tried to console her.

"Is she all right, Kimmie?" Mommy asked me.

"I think so."

"Then take her to the towels. I'll meet you there in a minute."

Mommy arranged her bikini top as she spoke to the lifeguard. His bulging eyes were at the exact level of her chest and he blinked nervously while listening to her.

A moment later, she dragged him by the hand back to us. "Girls, this is Vincenzo. Now, I want you to thank him. He just saved Debra's life. Isn't he just wonderful?" Mommy looked down at him and beamed.

Vincenzo smiled and kicked a bit of sand. "That's my job...no need to go on about it." He had a slight Spanish accent, and his silver whistle bounced on his belly, which hung over the top of his red Speedo bathing suit.

"He agreed to come over for dinner tonight. Isn't that simply perfect?"

"Not another one," I muttered under my breath.

"What did you say, Kimmie?" Her eyes flashed emerald.

"Oh, nothing. Great. Can't wait, Mommy."

"Now, that's my good girl."

Debra stopped crying and remained silent.

Vincenzo cleared his throat. "Well. Since Debi is okay, I should get back to my station. See you later, Kay. Girls." He winked at us and left.

Mommy watched him return to the lifeguard's chair and then she rounded on me. "Kimmie. I expect you to be very nice to Vincenzo when he comes tonight. He just saved your sister, and we owe him at least a nice dinner to thank him."

"Yes, Mommy," I said and turned away from her intense stare.

Dinner with Vincenzo was not any different than having dinner with Aashiq, the rug dealer, except Mommy seemed to cater to him a bit more. Perhaps it was because he saved my sister's life or that she genuinely liked him. I decided to wait and see how long this "friendship" would last.

We rarely ever saw Dad anymore. Between his courses at Brooklyn College and his work at Macy's, there was little time for us. We would see him briefly in the mornings right before Mommy took us out for the day.

One Saturday it was raining and instead of going to the beach, we went for a swim at the Brooklyn city pool. After the fiasco with the bikini, I convinced Mommy to wear a black one-piece bathing suit. She still had ample "boobage," but at least she was not falling out of her bathing suit this time.

Once I finished the first few laps, I stopped and heard Mommy say, "Excellent, Kimmie."

"She certainly is," said a tall stranger wearing a ball cap and team jersey.

My mother and I both stared at him with quizzical looks. For once, this man was not looking at her chest; he actually looked her in the eyes. Shocking.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm John Franklin. I'm a swimming coach at the University." He extended his hand.

Mommy shook it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kay Baumann and these are my daughters, Kimmie and Debi."

"A pleasure to meet you all." He knelt at the pool's edge and extended his hand to me. "And especially you, Kimmie."

We shook hands.

He returned to a standing position. "Mrs. Baumann, your daughter is an excellent swimmer. I rarely see a natural talent in one so young. Has she ever been trained?"

"No. She hasn't."

I pulled myself up onto the ledge of the pool. "I'd love to, though. Please Mommy, can I?"

"Kimmie. Don't interrupt. And do call me Kay."

Mr. Franklin beamed at us. "How old are you, Kimmie?"

"I'll be seven in December."

"Wow. You are young. I thought you were older." He stroked his chin for a brief moment. "Kay, I would like to handle your daughter's swimming career."

"Career?" Mommy raised her left brow.

"Yes. Career. If I trained your daughter, she could very well be the youngest swimmer in the '72 Olympics in Mexico City."

I could not believe what I was hearing. Me in the Olympics? The thought had never entered my mind. But as I dangled my legs in the water, my mind raced and visions of me standing on the podium with a gold medal around my neck set my heart racing. Imagine, I might even be on the cover of a box of Wheaties!

"You mean it? Me, swimming in the Olympics?"

Mr. Franklin smiled. "If you train hard and really want it. Yes. It is a strong possibility." He pulled out his wallet and handed Mommy a card. "If you're interested, give me a call and we can set something up. I would be willing to train her for free. That is how much I believe in her."

Mommy pocketed his card. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Franklin, but I'll need to discuss this with my husband first."

"Of course, Kay. Let me know once you have made your decision." He shook hands again with Mommy. "Bye, Kimmie. Debi. I hope we can work together, Kimmie."

"Me, too. Bye."

After a quick discussion with Dad that evening, it was agreed that I would be coached by Mr. Franklin twice a week: Wednesday after school and Saturday mornings.

We arrived at the University's pool the first Saturday in July. Mr. Franklin was waiting by the edge. He greeted us, shook Mommy's hand, and asked for me to dive into the pool as soon as I was ready.

Mommy turned on her heel without even saying good-bye to me or Mr. Franklin.

"Come back for her in a couple of hours, Kay," he called out.

Mommy streaked away even before Mr. Franklin had finished the sentence.

He instructed me on how to stretch and breathe properly. Then Mr. Franklin jumped into the pool and demonstrated the correct way to do each of the four different strokes: the freestyle, breast, back, and butterfly strokes. I needed to learn them all to compete. By the end of the first training session, I had learned so much. Mommy was late picking me up, she claimed to be having lunch with a friend and just lost all track of time.

This happened quite frequently over the next few months and on several occasions, Vincenzo walked in with her. I wasn't at all surprised, but Mr. Franklin was Vincenzo looked nothing like a Mr. Baumann, his Latino coloring and features were just too obvious.

Each month I kept improving. Mr. Franklin was incredibly pleased with my progress and would often try to converse with my mother about it, but she was too engrossed in her conversations with Vincenzo to be interested in anything Mr. Franklin had to say about me.

"Go change quickly," is all she would say.

About a year after I started training, Mom arrived at the pool alone, a first. Mr. Franklin greeted her in his usual friendly manner and once again tried to engage her in a conversation about my progress. She was rather rude to him and gave me "the look." Which meant trouble.

"Hurry up, Kimmie. We need to go. It's urgent I talk to your father."

We arrived back to our house and I ran up to my room.

Her voice carried to the second floor. "I just came from my grandfather's house. Why on earth did you turn down his offer to buy his house?"

"I don't want to move to Middle Village, Kay."

"Are you crazy? Thank God he didn't offer it to anyone else. I already paid him the twelve thousand in cash he wanted."

"But, it will take me too long to travel back and forth to work and college," Dad said in a calm voice.

"It was a real bargain. Thankfully I managed to squirrel away enough to buy it. It's all arranged. We move next week. Grandfather has even agreed to pay us rent for his room. It's perfect. I really never liked Brooklyn."

"Well, if that is how you want it Kay, I am not going to argue with you. It is a complete waste of time. God only knows you always do what you want."

"Oh... this will be perfect, Carlton. You'll see. We're all going to be so happy there."

She acted as if she never heard a word he said. Pots clanked around the kitchen. A half hour later, she called the family for dinner.

When I entered the dining room everyone was already seated at the table. Dad looked solemn and Debi fussed about not wanting to eat her spinach.

Mommy cleared her throat and made the announcement. "We're moving in a week."

Dad played around with his food, not eating a bite.

"But what about my school and my training?" I asked.

"You'll be going to the school I went to, Kimmie. You'll love it! And, as for your swimming, I am going to be way too busy to take you. Maybe your father will be able to?"

I looked at Dad hopeful. But he scowled. "I won't have time. It's your responsibility Kay, not mine," he said, never making eye contact with me.

"But..."

"Kimmie-that's enough," Mommy interrupted. "We will not have the time to take you back here to Brooklyn. Besides, you're a big girl now and you can be a real help to me with my business."

Tears streamed down my face. Just what I wanted, to spend more time with Mommy Kay and her stupid sideline "business."