The Talking Corridor

 

“...her name is Fiona Hill and her last book….”

“…. Mrs. Dalloway’s had….”

“…. read the….”

“…. if she tells me again….”

I’m swimming between two walking ladies at the Kennedy Pool. They are talking. I am catching only snippets of their conversation each time I pass between them on my way up and down the lane. I am here to swim. They are here to talk.

            It’s a different kind of workout. The Talking Workout.

            And in the shallow lanes, there is definitely more talking than swimming going on. Part of it, of course, is the fact that they are walking in the water vs. swimming in the water. Water walking just lends itself to talking, and if the walkers are ‘regulars,’ well, they have a rapport going already. Ripe for talking.

            Today I knew I was taking my chances getting in the shallow ‘lap’ lane. I knew that a walker would probably get in with me and this is fine, but naturally, I’d rather have the lane to myself. I don’t like to share. So today, when one of the ‘Talkers,’ Alice, got in the lane next to me, we exchanged smiles and she started in on her walking and I continued my swimming. But then Granny Glasses Woman got in on the other side of me and started walking and talking over me to Alice as I swam in between them.

            They completely ignored me. I wasn’t even there even though I swam between them every minute or so. The conversation continued over me and I couldn’t help but catch fragments of it as I swam past.

            “…..and you just have to watch out for them. They all have a mean streak. Men! I love ‘em but I stay away from them….”

            Alice frowns and shakes her head as this pronouncement floats over me. It strikes me as wrong. In my experience, I find that most men aren’t the ‘mean’ type. Women are. Maybe I got this from when I was a teenager and the ‘mean’ girls ostracized me from their ‘in-crowd’ when I told them we were moving out of Hacienda Heights to Irvine. For some reason, they took this as an affront to their community and wouldn’t speak to me for the remainder of my time there.

            It was MEAN!

And, in Soap Operas, sure the men are scheming and manipulative, but not ‘mean'.  Watch out for Victoria on the Young and the Restless. She’ll eat you alive if you try to commit any corporate espionage on Newman Enterprises! “Tucker, you may think you have leverage over me, but my people have discovered several emails that will be quite detrimental to your continued business ventures. “Are you threatening me, Victoria.” Victoria smiles smugly. “Of course not. I just think you better be on your guard. I don’t just growl. I bite!”

            I turn at the wall and continue back down the lane, words floating over me:

            “….my Volvo needed an oil change and….”

            “….my car is smaller so….”

            “…. the mechanic told me…. if I want to be good to my car…”

The Talking Ladies continue their discussions over me, going from books, to men to cars. I wonder if I should stop my lap swimming and ask who their mechanic is. Sounds like someone that I’d like. Though the guys at J&E on 23^rd Street are very nice and I really don’t need a new mechanic. Plus, I hate car stuff.

            It's 11:00 a.m. and the pool is closing. The lifeguard gets off his throne and paces slowly up the cement center between the deep side of the pool and the shallow. He’s young and shy. Doesn’t blow the whistle or yell for us to get out, but his movement is effective. Everyone gets out.

            Even the Talking Ladies.

            I wait to get out at the ladder, but Granny Glasses is blocking my way out. 

            “I am going to try this Sushi place on….” Alice is yelling over me.

            “…. since Covid I ….”

            Instead of trying to manuever past Granny Glasses to get out at the ladder, I decide to just heave myself out onto the deck. 

           Sitting on the wet cement deck for a moment, I can't help but grin. "....if you wanna come to lunch with me, I...."

          Of course, she's not talking to me. But that's okay. I can listen.

          

            

           

 

Distraction and Delusion

 

“Hope you have a good lunch now!” I call out to the janitor who has just finished cleaning the locker rooms of the Kennedy High Pool.

            “I don’t eat lunch,” he asserts. “Don’t drink water. Just eat salad and drink watermelon juice.”

            I think how it’s crazy not to drink any water. Haven’t we always learned that drinking 8 glasses of water a day is the first step to good health?

            “I love those two things,” LS nods at him, calls out softly, "salads and watermelon."

            Ignoring her, he barrels on: “Most people, they think they have to eat 3 meals a day but you don’t. You have breakfast, right? That means break the fast! You’ve already gone 8 hours without eating, just add on another 4 hours and then another 4 hours. Then you fasting.”

            I think how I can’t go more than 2 hours without eating, but don’t divulge my weakness to him.

            “And, the other thing is people eat pork and they eat beef. We not supposed to be eating those things. Those things are poison.”

            “Yes,” LS and I both say. I can agree with this, remembering how my mother was telling me  how she had started a series of paintings about Kelp. How growing and farming and eating kelp is so much better for the planet than beef. If only people would stop eating cows the world would be so much better off.

            “And another thing you can do,” he continues, inching closer to us, his dark eyes wide and intense behind smudgy round wire rimmed glasses, “eat turmeric and magnesium.”

            “I’ve heard that magnesium is very good for you,” I offer.

            “And stay out of the chlorine pool. That water is poison. Go to the ocean. Stand in the water. You can feel the electricity. We are electric beings. You have a choice. We are all born millionaires. Just look at your social security card. Right below your signature, take a close look. There are numbers there. They give you your million dollars. Just look. And no offense ladies, but our world is full of distraction and delusion.”

            I wonder where the hell he is going with this? I mean how was he going to offend us with this next segment of the diatribe?

            “Men and women. Distraction and delusion. Republicans and Democrats. Distraction and delusion. Right lung left lung. Distraction and delusion.”

            We both nod. I glance over at LS, but she’s got her big dark glasses on so I can’t tell what she’s thinking. It’s probably a good thing I can’t make eye contact with her; I might lose it and start laughing. Which probably would be a distraction.

            Or a delusion.

           “And don’t eat any red dye no 5, 6 7 or 12,” he continues, heated now.  “It’s poison. And the Walmarts? They’re all being closed up. America is a corporation. The Corporation is closing all the Walmarts. They aren’t going to be there anymore.  And you know what’s going to happen in 2026?”

            “No,” I can’t wait to hear this. But as he inches closer to us, I start to feel a little uneasy. I don’t think he’s dangerous, but he obviously is crazy. This might be what happens when you spend your days having to work cleaning up other people’s messes in various Richmond City facilities.

            “I’ll tell you, in 2026 there is going to a thing called COVID and it’s going to kill over 2 million people most of them children.”

            He pauses for a moment. I think this is getting too weird and start to pick my swim stuff up off the cement, placing my mask in its case, tossing my cap into my bag. I’m getting out of here is what I’m trying to say with my actions. Yet will he pick up on this?

            He seems to, now backing up a little and reaching for his keys to open the door of his white Richmond City of Pride and Purpose work van.

            LS sings out sweetly, “Thanks again for your work.”

            He nods, getting into his van, then pulls out. Drives away.

            I exhale. Relieved he’s gone. Then, look at LS and grin.

            “That’s gonna take a while to process,” she says.

            “My blog is written for today!” I exclaim. “It’s the only way I can process it all.”

            “I wonder where he gets his information,” she muses.

            “Who knows. It’s not the Guardian!”

            We both laugh. She gets on her bike, and starts to cruise off. I wave goodbye as I climb into the Fiat, thinking about how hungry I am. The hunger is definitely a distraction. 

    But a delusion? 

    Nah, it's real,  I think,  as I close the car door, put the key in the ignition and back out of the parking lot, turn onto 41st and head back to The Mansion for some Cheetos, M&Ms, Hagen Daz Ice Cream and water. Lots and lots of water!