The Soil of a Man, the 2nd part

[the first part, if you missed it...]



So yes, I wanted to beat this thing. I wanted to swim. I wanted to show my dad that I could do it. This way, if he ever wanted to get tossed out of a pool again, it would be for his own battles, not mine.



Uncle Calvin climbed out of the pond and stood beside me. "There's only one trick to swimming."



That sounded good. No one else made it so simple. "Okay," I said, nervous but determined. "I'm ready."



"Are you sure?"



"Sure as I'm gonna be. What's the trick?"



"The only trick to swimming is . . ." And he grabbed my left arm with one hand and the back of my underwear with the other, lifting me and swinging me back like he was about to toss a bale of hay out of the barn. "The only trick to swimming is you got to swim." Uncle Calvin flung me high in the air, like a catapult over the water. I crashed into the cold blackness, trapped by darkness and fear. My limbs thrashed, but I couldn't control them. I clawed at the water and took in great gulps. With each mouthful, I felt heavy needles stabbing my chest. Once or twice, I fought to the surface, but I couldn't catch my breath. They say my Uncle pulled me out, but I don't remember. I only remember going under and not being able to come back up.



Traumatic as nearly drowning was, I've actually never forgotten that day for another reason. As Uncle Calvin pulled onto our street, I saw our driveway full of cars. A police cruiser sat next to the curb. I walked up the front steps, and my mom, eyes puffy and red, met me at the door. She pulled me into her arms, and when I looked up, tears dripped off her chin.



"Dad had an accident today," she said. "Thad, dad is dead." Only nine, and my world had just been forever altered. There are more ways than one to hurl a boy alone into deep water.



[to be continued...]