Chapter 7 - The Boy in the Pool
Mateo hated water after the accident.
Not baths.
Pools.
Before the bombing he had been a strong swimmer.
Afterward, he refused even to enter the rehabilitation pool.
Clara never pushed.
Until summer.
The estate’s indoor pool had an accessible lift installed months earlier.
Unused.
One afternoon Mateo watched Jamal swim during a school trip.
That night he asked, “Can people who can’t move their legs swim?”
Clara answered, “Yes.”
“How?”
“With their arms. Different techniques. Flotation support sometimes.”
Mateo looked at the pool through the glass doors.
“Can I drown?”
“Yes.”
Vincent, who had entered behind them, almost exploded.
Clara continued.
“Anybody can drown. That’s why we do it safely.”
Mateo looked at Vincent.
“Can I try?”
Vincent’s first answer arrived immediately.
No.
He swallowed it.
“What does your doctor say?”
Clara smiled slightly.
Progress.
Three days later, a specialized aquatic therapist arrived.
Vincent stood at poolside.
Mateo wore a flotation belt.
The therapist lowered him carefully.
The moment water reached his chest, panic flashed across his face.
“I can’t.”
“You’re floating,” Clara said.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“You couldn’t feel them before you got in.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is!”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Take him out.”
Mateo shouted, “No!”
Everyone stopped.
The boy breathed hard.
Then looked at Clara.
“Don’t let go.”
“I won’t.”
She supported his upper back.
The therapist guided him.
Mateo moved one arm.
Then the other.
His body drifted.
Three feet.
Then six.
Vincent watched.
Mateo laughed.
Not a small laugh.
A wild one.
“I’m moving!”
Clara laughed too.
“You’re swimming.”
“I’m swimming!”
Vincent’s throat closed.
Mateo crossed half the pool using his arms.
When he reached the wall, everyone applauded.
This time Clara did too.
Mateo looked at Vincent.
“Dad!”
Vincent crouched at the edge.
“You did it.”
“You come in.”
Vincent blinked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’m dressed.”
“So?”
“I’m wearing a watch.”
“Take it off.”
Clara turned away, smiling.
Vincent looked at his son.
Then at his suit.
Five minutes later, the most feared man in three states stood in a swimming pool wearing expensive trousers and a white dress shirt.
Dominic took a photograph.
Vincent pointed at him.
“Delete it.”
“Never.”
Mateo laughed so hard he swallowed water.
Clara helped him recover.
That evening the photo appeared framed on Mateo’s desk.
May you like
Nobody admitted responsibility.
Vincent suspected everyone.
