The Three Carols

 

“Hello, Carol.”

I hear my name and answer to the other Carol that I know in the locker room. “Hello, Carol.”

But then, there’s another woman in our midst too---and, guess what? She answers too: “Hello.”

“Wait a minute,” Carol #2 says (I’m #1 of course), “is your name Carol, too?”

“Yes, it is,” Carol #3 says.

“WOW! I exclaim. “Three Carols all in the same place at the same time here in the locker room of Kennedy High Pool!”

“Is your name spelled with an e on the end?” Carol #3 inquires, “or are you a Real Carol, with no e.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the REAL Carol!” I grin, plopping my swim bag on the wide bench and rustling around for my shampoo and conditioner out of its depths.

“Yes, me too,” Carol #2 says.

“Me too,” Carol #3 says.

We all start grinning. “Are you Carol Ann?” Carol #2 asks me.

Our middle names will surely distinguish us. Not that we aren’t already quite different. Yes, we’re all women, we’re all white, we are probably of nearly the same generation. Though I think I’m a bit younger than the other two Carols—but I always think I’m younger than I am. I forget that I’m a senior citizen now until I look in the mirror. But these two women, while both women and white,  are physically very different. Carol #2 is a wide square load with a painful and slow gait caused by a fall. Carol #3 is delicate and slender, almost too slender. You can see her tail bone poking through at the bottom of her back when she bends over. And, me? I’m just a petite swimmer athlete, with a perky step and no bones showing. Well, maybe a few rib bones if I suck in my stomach.

But, I’m no Carol Ann, “Carol Leslie,” I answer, heading into the shower.

“Carol Lynn,” Carol #3 announces. “But two separate words!”  She laughs softly.

Oh, I know that one.

I often get called Carolyn, one word. Not sure why since it’s a longer name and doesn’t really sound like Carol by itself. In fact, there’s a fellow swimmer here who calls me Carolyn. I’ve thought about correcting her, but then, I shrug and think ‘Why bother’? I can be Carolyn for her.

        

Now as I turn on the hot water and dip my head under the tap, I think about names and Carols. How my mother told me I was named Carol because she was very pregnant at Christmas and there were Christmas Carols in the air. Plus, I think she thought it was a pretty name.

            And it is.

            Though I have taken on other names over the years. I was “Nora” at Avenue Books because there was another Carol. And I’m Cj to a few of my friends. My sisters call me Snart because we couldn’t say fart when we were kids so Fart and Snot became Snart.

            Now I’m part of the Pool Carol Club. And I like this. Though part of me is always a little surprised to meet another Carol.

            Aren’t I the only one?

            As I rinse the conditioner out of my hair, turn off the shower and head out into the locker room to contine the Carol talk, I find myself alone now.

            No more Carols in the locker room.

            Now I am the only one.

            And boy do I like that!