I hadn’t worn a swimsuit in public since my 60s.
At seventy-six, I’d gotten good at avoiding the issue. On family trips, I sat near the water with a book or volunteered to watch everyone’s bags.
Then Sophie started asking.
Sophie was my son Caleb’s eight-year-old daughter and the kind of child who could turn one request into a summer campaign.
I hadn’t worn a swimsuit in public since my 60s.
“Grandma, please swim with me.”
Sophie was my entire world. So I bought a swimsuit: just a simple black one-piece.
***
That morning, I stood in my bedroom, pulling at the fabric and trying not to study myself too closely.
The door flew open.
“Grandma!”
Sophie rushed in and stopped beside me.
“Grandma, please swim with me.”
“You got one!”
I laughed and crossed my arms over my stomach.
“Apparently I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“No! Now you can race me.”
“Race you? I’m 76.”
“So?”
I looked at her.
“Apparently I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“So my knees have filed several complaints.”
She giggled.
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“And you said grandmas keep promises.”
“Using my own words against me is very rude.”
“Are you still racing me?”
“And you said grandmas keep promises.”
I looked back at the mirror.
Loose skin hung beneath my arms. Blue veins crossed my legs. My waist was softer than before.
But I didn’t look ridiculous. I looked like myself.
“You’re on,” I told her.
“Well, this should be interesting.”
Amanda stood in my doorway.
I looked back at the mirror.
***
Amanda had been married to Caleb for nine years. My daughter-in-law was polished, outgoing, and could make friends anywhere.
I’d always admired that about her.
That morning, she looked me up and down.
“Wow, Linda. You’re really going swimming like that?”
My arms crossed over my stomach again.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You’re really going swimming like that?”
“Nothing.”
She laughed.
“I just hope I’m that confident when everything starts heading south.”
Sophie frowned.
“Mom, that’s rude.”
“What? I’m kidding, hon.”
I forced out a small laugh.
“I just hope I’m that confident.”
“I thought it looked nice,” I said.
“I’m sure it did under store lighting.”
That one landed.
Amanda lifted her phone.
“You’re bringing your robe, right?”
“I always bring one.”
“Good,” Amanda said. “You might need it.”
“You’re bringing your robe, right?”
Amanda walked out.
Sophie lingered.
“Grandma, are you still racing me?”
I looked at the mirror. Thirty seconds earlier, I’d felt brave. Now I saw everything Amanda had noticed first.
“I’ll meet you downstairs, honey.”
I pulled on my bathrobe before leaving the bedroom.
“Grandma, are you still racing me?”
I told myself I’d take it off once we reached the pool.
I didn’t.
***
Twenty minutes after we arrived, I was still sitting in a plastic chair with the belt knotted around my waist.
“Grandma!” Sophie shouted from the shallow end. “Come in!”
“In a minute!”
Amanda glanced over from the chair beside me.
“You’ve said that three times,” she said.
Amanda glanced over from the chair beside me.
“I’m waiting for the water to warm up.”
“It’s 90 degrees.”
I tightened the robe.
“Somebody has to watch the towels.”
Amanda laughed.
“Don’t tell me you’re shy now. You were confident enough to wear that thing at home.”
Two women at the next table looked over.
