“Let’s go,” Britta said, spinning the stroller away from me. As I watched them head down the sidewalk, Dylan looked back, only once, a faint smile on his lips.
EARLY THE NEXT week, a heat wave settled over the city. Temperatures soared into the high nineties, and the humidity was off the charts. The kids moved sluggishly through our barely cool classroom, and even Royce hardly stirred during nap time. No one showed any signs of energy all day until it was time to go up to the pool.
The aboveground pool sat on the rooftop and was filled with just enough water to reach most kids’ chins. There was an area on the far side of the roof for those who didn’t like to swim, with a sprinkler and a sandbox. Rebecca and I switched off which of us went in the pool, and that day was my turn.
She sat on a wooden picnic bench beside a mound of towels, wiping sweat from her face. I couldn’t help but smile. Although the water only came up to my belly button, it was deliciously cool.
“Look at me,” squealed Amber, whose soggy Band-Aids hung from her elbows. “I’m going underwater.”
She ducked her face at the surface, went just deep enough to splash her nose and some of her round cheeks.
“That’s great,” I said. “Do you want to maybe try putting your whole head under?”
“No.” Amber giggled. “That’s too scary.”
“You want to see scary?” I asked, ducking underwater and sticking my elbow up like a shark fin. Amber splashed away, giggling. When I rose, Dylan tugged at my leg.
“You want to see me swim?” he asked.
Dylan was like a little duck, one of the few kids who could swim. Dutifully, I watched him churn across the pool as I tossed a beach ball back and forth with Amber and a couple of the other kids.
After a few minutes I got tired of Dylan’s swimming and turned away. “You’re not watching,” Dylan whined, and Amber threw the ball at me again but missed.
The ball drifted toward Dylan. He grabbed it and hurled it over the side of the pool, onto the roof.
Amber leaned out. “Hey, someone get the ball!” But everyone else was on the far side of the roof, out of earshot, including Rebecca.
“I’ll get it,” I said, going right for the ladder since I was closest. I didn’t even think about it, really. It wasn’t a big deal. I’d have my hands on the ball in five seconds and be right back in the pool. What could possibly happen?
My feet had barely touched the hot rubber that covered the roof when I heard a shriek from behind me. At the sandbox, Rebecca had whirled and spotted me outside the pool. Anger crossed her face.
“Who’s watching the kids?” she shrieked.
I was halfway up the ladder when I saw Dylan holding Amber’s head underwater, her hair floating like kelp. I broke the surface with a crash, landing inches from the two kids. Dylan let go of Amber instantly and swam away.
I picked her up, wiped tendrils of hair out of her face, and made sure she was breathing okay. I felt Dylan brush by my legs, circling like a piranha.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I told Amber, leaning her against my shoulder. But she just cried, rubbing her eyes with her hands. The wet Band-Aids had fallen off her elbows.
“You are in very serious trouble,” Rebecca said, and Dylan and I both looked up at once. I didn’t know if she meant me or him.
APPARENTLY SHE’D MEANT me. “That’s goddamn unacceptable, leaving those kids in the pool alone.” I’d never heard Rebecca curse before. Of course at the moment, our kids had gone off with another group, so we were alone by the pool. “Somebody could’ve drowned in there.”
“Yeah, like Amber,” I said. “But only because Dylan was holding her underwater.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The kids were horsing around, that’s all. Which would’ve been fine if someone were supervising.” She shook her head at me. “This is it, your last free pass. Don’t screw up again.”
I nodded and went to the bench where I’d stashed my clothes. As I started to slip on my sneakers, I noticed that one of the laces was gone. I looked around inside the sneaker and under it, but I couldn’t find the lace. Was this some trick the kids were playing on me? But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I had only fifteen minutes until afternoon snack.
I STAYED IN the city after work that day and saw a movie, a comedy. I was glad to get some laughs, but my good mood didn’t last. Soon I was standing on the sweltering subway platform, my anger starting to resurface. Then I noticed a familiar figure at the edge of the platform. Britta.
“How’s the nanny business?” I asked.