Chapter 1 - The Comment by the Pool
At sixty-eight, I figured the hardest part of wearing a swimsuit would be finding the nerve to walk outside in one in front of my whole family. I was wrong. One cruel sentence turned a regular backyard cookout into a day none of us would forget.
"Wait — you're actually getting in the pool?"
Ashley's voice stopped me halfway across the patio.
I glanced down at my plain black one-piece, then back up at my daughter-in-law.
"That was the idea," I said.
She didn't smile.
Instead, she looked me over slowly, head to toe, while half a dozen relatives sat close enough to catch every word.
"I just think there's an age where you have to be honest with yourself about what people want to look at."
For a second my mouth wouldn't work.
I was sixty-eight years old, and until that afternoon, I honestly didn't know there was an expiration date on wearing a swimsuit.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked.
Ashley dropped her voice, though not nearly enough.
"Gloria, you're almost seventy. You've got wrinkles everywhere — your arms, your stomach, all of it. There are teenagers here. I'm just saying a cover-up might be more appropriate."
My face went hot.
The suit wasn't revealing. It wasn't strange. It was a simple black one-piece I'd bought earlier that summer, and I'd actually stood in the store thinking it looked good on me.
More to the point, my granddaughter Sophie had been begging me all afternoon to get in the water with her.
"Grandma!" she shouted from the shallow end. "Come in already!"
I turned toward her.
Then I saw two relatives look away fast.
They'd heard.
That made it worse.
I could have argued. I could have asked why a yard full of teenagers needed protection from the sight of an old woman's knees. Instead, embarrassment won. I wrapped the towel around myself.
"Maybe in a little while, sweetheart," I called.
Sophie's smile fell. "But you promised."
"I know, baby."
Ashley gave a small, satisfied nod, like the two of us had just reached a sensible agreement. That stung almost worse than the words had.
My son Greg had thrown the cookout because the kids were finally out of school for the summer. He'd spent all morning at the grill, dragging chairs across the patio at his place in Brookfield, packing coolers with soda and beer. I wasn't about to wreck his day.
So I headed for the house.
"Mom?" Greg called from the grill. "Where are you going?"
"Inside."
"Thought Sophie finally talked you into swimming."
"Changed my mind."
His eyes dropped to the towel knotted tight around me. "Why?"
"I'm cold."
It was a ridiculous thing to say. The patio stones were hot enough to burn the soles of your feet.
Greg frowned. Before he could push, Ashley slid in beside him.
"Your mom just decided she'd feel more comfortable with a cover-up."
I looked at her. That was not what had happened.
"Mom?" Greg said.
May you like
"It's fine."
I went inside before my face could give me away.
