Mercer tenses for a second, then smiles. “Ask before you poke, little fellow.”
“Sorry. They’re so cool. And your color is so pretty.”
“Zack!” I hiss.
“Well, I think your colors are pretty, too.” Mercer nods and wraps one tentacle around Zack’s hand. My son holds it easily. “We’re going to head into the lake so we can get as much lesson time in as possible. Madelyn, if you want to get in with us, just for your own peace of mind, come on in, but give us about ten feet of space.”
I can’t help but stare and do some calculations, even as I give a cheery noise of agreement and plop my beach bag down on the sand.
Ten feet?
Look at those tentacles fan out in the water.
Mercer is having fun with Zack, getting him used to the water without floaties. His tentacles are out, spinning in the water like a living carnival ride as Mercer turns slowly, and Zack goes up and down, passing from one to the other. Mercer shouts out that he needs to catch his breath and hold it each time he counts to three.
I hold my breath, too, as Zack plunges down, then up, laughing when he breaks the surface with his wet curls plastered to his forehead.
“That’s the super important thing for humans, Zack. You don’t have the ability to breathe underwater. You have to learn to hold your breath before you go in, or as soon after as you can.”
“I got it!”
And for the next five minutes, that’s all that Mercer and Zack do, practice getting wet, going under, and holding their breath. Mercer is firm, but patient, and the way he teaches makes Zack laugh.
“Now, we learn to kick while holding onto something. Legs first, then arms.” Mercer holds out a tentacle like a living blue branch. Zack grabs on, and the next ten minutes are all about kicking, putting his face in the water, lifting his head, and breathing out when Mercer’s other tentacle taps his shoulder.
I just watch, growing more relaxed by the second.
Well, duh, Madelyn. Who would be a better swimming teacher than a water-dwelling being? He’s a natural.
Zack’s having fun. It’s free. And it’ll tire him out. More importantly, it’ll keep him safe.
A bonus?
The scenery—and it’s not just the lake and the crystal blue summer sky with streaky white clouds.
Yeah, I know I’m a flabby toddler mom who hasn’t been to the gym in three years. I didn’t even start riding my bike again until a few months ago. The hot lifeguard will never notice me,and if he did, I’d run so far and fast that I’d need a forwarding address.
But I can daydream while I listen to Zack’s happy squeals interspersed with Mercer’s deep, calm voice. I can have a little harmless enjoyment, even while my practical side bitterly reminds me that, sure, hunky guys like Mercer are great with kids when they’re getting paid, or on the clock, when it’s all fun and games. But if by some strange miracle he might like me, I doubt he’d be dad material.
I shouldn’t even pretend for a second that we’re playing happy family. What a joke.
At least that’s what I tell myself until Zack, with his unfailing sweetness and that ever-bright curiosity, starts asking Mercer questions.
“Can you come out of the water? Off the beach? Can you ride a bike? Can you drive?”
Mercer answers everything with utmost seriousness. “I can spend about a day out of the water at a time, but I always need to return to water. Yes, I can leave the beach. I’ve never tried to ride a bicycle. There are no bike shops under the sea.” Mercer winks, and Zack grins. “I probably could drive, Zack, but I don’t know how.”
“My mommy could teach you.”
“I bet she could.”
“Zack, Mr. Mercer might not want driving lessons.”
“I don’t—not yet.”
“When are you coming to dinner? Do you want some of my juice boxes? What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
“Zack, honey. It’s more polite to have conversations that aren’t made entirely of questions,” I laugh nervously as the lesson ends, and I dry my motormouth little dude off.
