One Pink and Another with Red Polka Dots
Our guy’s little brother sleeps. A book, words down on his stomach, rises and falls as he snores away the day's energy. Having said a reluctant goodbye to his big brother, the boy sleeps, assuming that was their last encounter before our guy returns.
The boy’s dreaming when our guy opens the bedroom door and walks in. He sits on the bed, picks up the book, and smiles when he sees the book is something he bought for him. It’s a book about a fox in the army, but this is a children's book, and there's irony ─ the fox has mistakenly enlisted in an army of sheep.
Our guy puts the book on the nightstand and nudges his brother. Once our guy leaves, the only person he’ll miss is this one. He nudges him again, and the boy’s eyes open to look for the pesky intrusion. The boy looks at the man on his bed and, for a moment, thinks the person is the one from his dream. But as the shadows become less stiff, he sees it’s only his big brother and is glad that dreams are fake and that his brother isn’t.
The boy rubs his face, “I thought you were the person I was dreaming about,” he says.
“And who was that?” asks his older brother. He sits in uniform, his cap on his lap.
“The dream told me it was my teacher, Mr. Brooks, but it wasn't him. It was dad, but I knew it was supposed to be Mr. Brooks.”
”That happens,” he says. Our guy takes off his backpack and places it on the floor. “I’m definitely leaving now though, Randy.”
“So, we get a second goodbye? That means there’s gotta be two hellos next time,” the boy yawns and gives a variation of his previous farewell speech, “Well, just make sure you’re safe and make sure you write me just about every day, but I don’t want it to mess with your work. So if it does, just call me instead, that'll be quicker and, when you get lonely, think about that day when we went to the amusement park, and we rode the big wheel, and we were surrounded by everybody and that they were having just as much as fun as we were.”
The boy puts his hand on our guy’s neck; for such a small hand it is informed and strong and not at all like something that can barely loop the lower part of an f when practicing script. This hand is enough to make our guy tear, and when our guy puts his own hand on his brother, the boy nods as if he was expecting all this, like this scene was all in that dream he just had. “So, you’re definitely leaving now then?”
Our guy shrugs to the window, “My car will be out there in a few minutes.”
The boy considers this, “Alright then. Before you go though, I was thinking …you said where you’re going there’s a lotta sand, right?”
“That’s right. Sand covers just about everything where I’m going."
"Make sure it doesn't cover you," he says as he points over to his glass of water. "And you should go swimming every day, too. All that sand has to mean that there's water around, so you'll be working on a big beach. I think it’ll be the best beach there is, and when you come back you can tell me how much water there is. And then we’ll go to a beach around here, even though it’ll probably not be as good as the one you’re going to, but we’ll find a way to make it better. We always have fun, you and me.”
Our guy smiles, “We’ll do that then. We’ll both have something to look forward to. I'll teach you how to swim.”
“Good, I’m getting older; I’m tired of water wings.” He yawns for the second time.
Our guy laughs. “You’ll be swimming the length of entire oceans by the time I’m done teaching you. Remember t-ball? Now you have no trouble hitting a nasty curveball four hundred feet. You’re good at stuff like that. I bet you’ll be teaching me how to do tricks and backflips before I even finish with you.”
“I can dog paddle,” Randy says. “I’ll teach you how to do that! Unless …you already know how to.”
“Nope," Our guy shakes his head. "I never learned how to do that. Definitely always wanted to, though.” He nods. “You teach me how to dog paddle, and I’ll teach you how to swim in the ocean when I get back.”
The boy liked the sound of that. His older brother had taught him so much already: how to cook spaghetti, how to draw a snowman, how to flip a quarter so it almost always landed on tails. Randy decided it would be the decent thing to teach him something for once. One couldn't count the times he tried to teach Tim to bake sugar cookies so they were more edible than a turtle shell. But, and Randy didn’t like to lie to his brother, he had no clue how to dog paddle. Still it would only be a short-lived lie, he thought. A lie that would be a placeholder until he made it a truth and so that wasn't really a lie. He could look it up in a book; books seem to teach you just about everything.
Our guy picks up his backpack and puts the cap back onto his head. He stands, and his brother gets up to hug him, barely able to reach his belt buckle. The boy looks up from the belt, “You’re gonna be okay without me. We’ll be good without each other for a bit. When you come back, we’ll swim.”
“We’ll swim and dog paddle in every lake, pond, and ocean we come across. Don’t forget we got to go buy a couple of bathing suits now.”
“We will.”
Our guy, Tim J. Heifstaff, closes the bedroom door and enters the waiting car, which takes him to a plane with men in the same uniform as his. After two connecting flights, seven whiskeys, and seven hours of sleep, twenty hours have passed, and the group lands near a long beach where Nature has forgotten to add an ocean; in its place is more sand. Even in his camo, Tim doesn’t feel a part of this environment. Though, he supposes, the point is for enemies to miss you, not to actually have you blend in, but still, there’s not much comfort in either usage. He already hates it here. He is more like a sheep in an army of foxes. Quiet and pale and surrounded by potential threats. He'll count the months and not the days until he gets back home because it'll sound faster that way.
A week later, after long suns and long moons, Tim gets his first letter from his brother. The envelope shows his home address, and it’s nice to touch something that has come from there. Inside there is just a hand-drawn picture of two people in the water. They are wearing matching trunks, and the sun is out, and it may be pouring down to reflect on the water or those yellow lines could be boats or even surfboards. There’s a beach that seems to go on forever. Tim holds onto the image and wants nothing more than to act like a couple of sharks with his brother.
Tim’s bunkmate is behind him, and he glances at the image. He looks at the two people standing there. He’s not sure what they are supposed to be doing, but they look happy doing whatever it is. And so is Tim, just looking at this picture that will act as a placeholder until the paper becomes a day, and he and his brother become the crayon marks.
Tim puts the picture down and takes out paper. He draws an image, too, as if to continue his brother’s own. He draws two guys wearing bathing suits, sitting on the sand, smiling. Footprints from the water trail behind them. The two are tired and sweaty and think about things that have already happened to them, like that time they rode that big Ferris wheel in Allentown.
The next day Tim is under the foreign sun for eleven hours. During those hours he tells his bunkmate about his life as they walk on the sand. The bunkmate likes to listen to Tim talk, likes to hear about another life, one that would never be mistaken for his own. Tim tells him about the time his brother and he got lost in their backyard, which is really an extension of the Pennsylvania woods. He tells him about the day Randy fell into a zebra pen. The constant in all these stories, thinks the bunkmate, is Tim’s brother. The bunkmate does a lot of talking too, and tells Tim about his son and daughter, and they both agree it’s nice to have something to look forward to, otherwise this is all a bit like sitting in a kayak without any paddles.
Back home, twenty hours away, Randy has started out on an expedition. It’s the weekend, and he is with his father who is running on a trail off a highway not far from their home. Randy is left to himself as long as he stays in sight. He likes the freedom. He walks around the trail, tossing pebbles and kicking pine cones when his nose finds a smell. This smell is familiar. Seaweed and ocean and salt and sand. How could he have missed it! He stops picking up pebbles and sees the sand spilling from behind the guarding trees. He wants to run up the incline to see what is there; to see what he is certain is there.
“Dad,” he yells. “I’m going right up here. I have to check this out!”
He runs up the incline and ducks under the trees. And there it is! A beach, short but quiet and modest and charming. Sort of like himself, he thinks. And that’s a great sign. The beach here is private, maybe no one in the world knows about this beach. He thinks it is perfect and sits on the sand and looks out to the water. He must tell his brother about this discovery; Tim will be impressed and joyful and will want to push the clocks forward. But Randy is disappointed in time. He explains to himself the calendar month of when Tim will be back. Basically, he figures, every morsel of sand on this beach acts as one day until the month Tim comes back. And if you went and took away every bit of sand until Tim came back, the beach would be empty. He shakes the thought off and will wait however long he has to. He'll go and tell his brother all about this beach they can swim and dog paddle in!
After his dad and he drive home, Randy goes to his room, finds a sheet of paper, and lies on his stomach to write. He writes sloppily but the words will make sense to Tim.
Hey Tim,
You’re swimming every day right? You better be because I know you didn’t forget about me and you swimming when you get back here. Every pond, lake, and ocean. It’ll be great. I have found us the greatest beach that may have never even been swam in before! It’s tucked behind these big trees and you have to walk up a hill to find it! It's off a highway so drivers must always drive past it. I can’t wait till we go there. That has to be the first place we swim. And don’t worry, I’m still gonna teach you how to dog paddle. Sometimes I forgot I don’t even know how to swim yet! But like you said, I’m quick and I’ll learn in a hurry. Are you eating good over there? I guess you’re eating a lotta beach food, like lobster and clams. That’s good. Do you think we’ll find an island we can swim to?
Tim reads the letter a few times and writes back.
Of course I haven’t forgotten about our swimming expedition. Are you outta your mind? The beach you found sounds perfect, I can’t wait till we go there. It’s nice that it’s tucked away, like it’s just for us. Right now, I am swimming every day. It’s fantastic but I could use a buddy to brave the waters with, only gotta wait a little longer though. The waves are strong sometimes, but not as strong as me. There’s so much water out here, you’d love it. The beach is nice but I doubt it's as nice as the one you found. Plus, you have to watch for the lobsters over here because they don’t like when you swim. When I get back I’ll buy us two new bathing suits. A red polka dot one for me and a pink one for you. What do ya think?
After Tim writes his letter, he sends it off. His bunkmate sees him writing and asks if the ink is for his brother and if it’s about that swimming thing they’re gonna be doing. Tim nods and says, “Yea, it’s for him. We’ll be swimming in every ocean, lake, and pond.” The bunkmate smiles and pats Tim on the back. The bunkmate thinks it’s a good image to keep yourself motivated with.
Near the end of the week, Randy receives the letter. Randy has probably dreamed of swimming every night. And in those dreams he’s with his brother who is played by his brother and doesn’t look like anyone else. He really hopes he will be able to teach his brother to dog paddle when they go to the beach. At the end of the letter Randy can’t tell if his big brother is joking about those pink and red polka dot bathing suits. Either way Randy laughs hysterically at the image of his brother in a bathing suit covered with red polka dots. Really, Randy doesn't care if those are the colors Tim decides to buy or not; as long as they get to swim together. Even if the bathing suits were see-through for some reason, it wouldn't matter, he concludes. Randy doesn't know what to write back so he draws another picture. This time the image is more detailed. The sand is white near the top but becomes golden towards the water, the ocean goes further back and the two figures are deeper in the water. One is swimming, and the other is dog paddling. One wears a pink bathing suit, and the other wears one with red polka dots. In the distance there is an island. That’s where these two are headed. Randy laughs at the picture and goes to tell his father that he is ready to send another letter.
For the next few days Randy looks in all of his books for information on the art of dog paddling. He even asks his dad if …perhaps, they can…maybe…borrow a dog from someone and put him in their kiddie pool to see how it does such a trick. His dad says no, but that’s fine; Randy goes and searches in more books. How to dog paddle has to be in one of these books he has, and if it isn't, it should definitely be in one of his mom’s books.
Under the foreign sun and across an ocean that is too long to swim across, Tim does his days as he would any other job and looks forward to night when he talks with his bunkmate and falls asleep. The future seems like the only place they both like to go to.
Back home, Randy has not still come across any information on how to dog paddle. All the books he looks in are useless. He thinks back to the trail he and his dad had gone to, and how perfect the beach was. Maybe when they go back, there will be a dog paddling in the water. Just that small chance is enough for him to want to go back and see. But there’s a better chance no dog will be there. He shakes his head. He really has to teach his brother to dog paddle. He thinks for a few minutes, and then he decides he'll wait till he dad goes jogging again. His dad goes just about every other day, and he’ll ask to go back with him and do what is necessary.
The next day comes, and his dad agrees to take Randy to the beach with him. He parks the car and readies his laces for the jog. He tells Randy freedom is his as long as he can see him, and he stays on the trail. Randy agrees, and his dad begins his run. Randy kneels on the trail and goes over his plan. He’ll go into the water but he won’t go too deep but he’ll have to go far enough so that he can practice his dog paddling and that may take the courage of a soldier. He decides if he doesn't go deep enough, it would be pointless, and he wouldn’t learn anything to teach his brother.
Randy’s father is a dot, far onto the trail. Randy nods to the beach and throws his last pebble away. He doesn’t yell to his father that he is going into the water. He sneaks off. He needs to run up the hill as he did a week before and practice dog paddling before his father sees he's gone. If his father notices he’s wet, he'll just have to take the yelling and possible punishment. This is for Tim. They made a deal. And a punishment is worth the island he and his brother might find.
Randy runs up the hill. At the top, he takes off his shirt, rolls up his pants, and kicks off his sneakers. He has to hurry. He runs down the length of beach until the sand is wet with ocean. He's unsure how deep is deep enough but his toes and arms and legs will let him know. Around him, it is empty just like last time. Tim will really love it here. This will be their beach. Randy thinks about his brother in a bathing suit with red polka dots and smiles as he shakes his head.
Forgetting Tim, Randy loves the feeling of the water on his toes. He has to make sure his toes always reach the ocean floor; this is the most important thing to keep in mind while learning to dog paddle. He goes a little deeper into the water and swings his arms, but he is not deep enough, the water is still below his shoulders. He must be brave like Tim. Again, he goes deeper until only his toes can feel the ocean floor. And now, instinctively, he does dog paddle. His head sticks out above the water, and his arms and legs are like those of a retriever. It is all going well, he can actually dog paddle. It's easy really, you just have to shake your body and pretend you are a dog, he thinks.
Then his toes lose the floor, and they cannot reach it unless he ducks his head under the water. His arms are not fast enough to tread the water, and his head starts to go beneath the surface. He tries to dog paddle back to the sand but he is not moving any closer. His head continues to disappear under the water. The water and waves are strong, stronger than Randy. He forgets about the drawings and the letters he and his brother have sent each other. He’s dog paddling and really trying to get back to the sand and once there, he will wait until the day Tim teaches him to swim but it isn’t enough. He goes under the water and stays there. His dad is a quarter of a mile away, and his brother is twenty hours further. And neither can get there in time.
Except for a long weekend for the funeral, it’s eight months later when Tim returns. The foreign sun has followed him. He sits in his brother's room on his bed. Our guy has no guy now; he and the bed have this in common. It might be the only thing he’s ever had in common with a bed. Our guy thinks it might be a nice thing to go swimming one day, just for his brother but right now every ocean, lake, and pond is his enemy.
Our guy’s next few years are a tough few years and in those years all our guy ever really does is dog paddle and, in horrible irony, it’s his brother who has taught him how.