Chapter 2 - The Neon Pink Swimsuit
Saturday morning arrived with bright, unfiltered sunlight that made the dust motes dance across the living room carpet. Emma was bouncing on the balls of her feet by 9:00 AM, holding her yellow inflatable goggle set and begging to go to the municipal community pool.
Lily sat at the kitchen table, picking meticulously at a piece of dry toast. Every time my phone buzzed on the counter—whether it was an automated calendar reminder or a weather alert—Lily’s entire body went rigid. Her eyes would dart to the black glass screen, holding her breath until she saw that it wasn't a call from her mother.
"Lily, do you want to go swimming with Emma?" I asked, pouring orange juice into two plastic cups. "Your mom said she packed your swimsuit."
Lily hesitated, her fingers hovering over her toast. "Is it... is it hot outside?"
"It's going to be eighty degrees today, sweetie," I smiled. "It's perfect pool weather."
She gave a slow, cautious nod. "Okay. But I want to wear the pink one."
When I unzipped the purple backpack in the guest room to help her gather her gear, I found the clothing packed with an unsettling precision. Everything was folded tightly, but at the very bottom, shoved beneath three pairs of socks, was a neon pink swimsuit. It was a one-piece with thick crossed straps across the back.
As Lily changed in the bathroom with the door cracked, I heard her struggling with the straps. "Do you need some help getting it over your shoulders, Lily?" I called out softly.
"No!" she shouted back, a sudden surge of sharp panic in her voice that felt completely out of proportion. "I got it! I can do it myself!"
A few moments later, she stepped out. The neon pink swimsuit fit her slim frame, but the left strap was pulled uncomfortably tight across her shoulder, lifted high toward her neck. She had wrapped a thin white cardigan over her upper body, buttoning it all the way to her throat despite the morning warmth.
The drive to the community center took fifteen minutes. In the backseat, Emma was singing along to pop songs on the radio, while Lily sat silently, looking out the side window. Every time I checked the rearview mirror, I saw Lily’s hand resting lightly over her left shoulder, her thumb gently tracing a line along her collarbone through the cardigan's soft fabric.
The community pool smelled sharply of chlorine, wet concrete, and sweet sunblock. It was crowded with local families. Children screamed with delight as they crashed into the shallow water, and lifeguards blew short, shrill blasts on their whistles.
Lily refused to take off her cardigan until we reached the very edge of the water. Even then, she waited until my back was partially turned toward the snack bar before slipping the sweater off and dropping it onto a plastic lounge chair. She immediately backed down the shallow-end ladder, keeping her back pressed firmly against the stainless steel rails as she submerged her upper body in the blue water.
For the next two hours, Lily stayed close to the ladder. While Emma splashed around, diving for plastic rings, Lily remained standing in the three-foot section, keeping her back turned away from the other swimmers and the lounge chairs where the parents sat. Whenever another child swam near her left side, she instinctively spun around, shielding her shoulder beneath the water's surface.
At 11:42 AM, Emma ran up to my lawn chair, dripping water onto my towel, tugging at my arm. "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom real bad!"
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"All right, let's go," I said, sitting up and gesturing for Lily. "Lily, pool break! Locker room time!"
Lily climbed out of the water quickly, wrapping herself in a oversized blue beach towel before her feet even hit the dry concrete deck. She pulled the towel up to her chin, clutching the cotton hem with both hands as we walked toward the heavy blue doors of the facility's locker room.
