Swim Coach! Swim or Drown

By Dusty Kohl

This is the first novel in the Swim Coach series. Book # 2 is Swim Coach Diving in Deep.
Shane comes of age before his senior year. He tells his story of self-discovery, self-disdain, and self-destruction. Fortunately, his childhood friend, Mikey, sees Shane going down. He reinstates the friendship Shane had cast aside. Together, they face many obstacles and uncover one of the main curses of their hometown.
This book begins after two devastating family tragedies leave Shane lost, searching for meaning, and pondering ways of escape from a cruel, lonely life. As friends and relatives step forward to help him, he realizes that not everybody has his best interests in mind. He must sort through advice and mandates to find his own way. A way that will work for him, lest he give up on life altogether.
Here is an entertaining tale of a practical character in foreboding circumstances with a touch of the ethereal. Shane's simple interest in local myths and legends begin beckoning him to become a key player as past and present collide.
Shane tells his story in the vernacular he knows, tainted by incomplete sentences, local terminology, occasional expletives, and a dislike for the pronoun, I.
This book does not contain verbatim depictions of explicit sexual acts. Dusty Kohl attempts to paint such scenes with metaphor, vagueness, emotion, and dialogue to allow each reader his/her own interpretation and choice of comprehension.
This book contains some adult same-sex situations, suggestive language, and references to violence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dusty Kohl
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310441899

Dusty Kohl

Dusty Kohl taught as a classroom teacher and reading specialist for nearly two decades. He began writing poems and short stories during his own elementary school days. Dusty is one in a long line of storytellers of oral traditions from family history. When he isn’t remodeling, landscaping or kicking back with his dogs, he’s out people watching and interacting. His goal is to keep his storyline characters realistic while his plots take twists, turns, and surprises.

Book preview

Swim Coach! Swim or Drown is the first in the series of novels, Swim Coach. Swim Coach Diviing in Deep follows and is now available. Swim Coach Going Against the Current will be published soon.

Shane is a shy 18 year-old struggling to endure a vicious home life. His sometimes tragic story reveals the value of friendship and love while surviving unfair cricumstances. His life seems to give him only two choices: swim or drown. While being coached to overcome his aqua phobia, Shane discovers that learning to swim isn’t about the water. Local legends, gossip, and revenge carry heavy prices for all in this small town, as he is forced along a road to choose self-destruction or self-acceptance.

Shane tells his story in the vernacular he knows, tainted by incomplete sentences, local terminology, occasional expletives, and a dislike for the pronoun, I.

If you’re looking for verbatim depictions of explicit sexual acts, this book will disappoint you. I can write that sort of material, but I simply choose not to publish it. I attempt to paint such scenes with metaphor, vagueness, emotion, and dialogue to allow each reader his/her own interpretation and choice of comprehension.

This book contains some adult same-sex situations, suggestive language, and references to violence. The characters, events, and firms herein are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons (living or dead), or to actual events or firms is purely coincidental.

+ + +

The Promise

Mrs. Radcliff read many stories to us in first grade. My favorite stories were about a knight in shining armor who constantly rescued people from terrible places or fought monsters to keep them safe. Seemed to me, I knew him....

Shh. Shh. Shh. Little Brother, I know it hurts. Face in the pillow. Don’t let her hear ya. It’s okay to cry, but don’t never let nobody see ya cry. Not her.

Dinner without a word and we went straight back to our room. Safety with the door closed on a silent house.

Brother, I’m scared. I’m always scared. I carefully crawled in next to him. Easy. He would be sore all over for several days.

Brother held me. Know when to be scared. Ya cain’t be scared all the time. Ain’t healthy and won’t change nothin’. Learn the pattern. Know when it’ll be over. That’s what keeps us strong.

I’m still scared.

Shh. Shh. Shh. You’re tired Shane. Sleep, now. I’ve got ya. Sleep, Shane. I’ll hold ya. Sleep.

Brother stood between me and Mom’s wrath almost every time she got mad at me. He was my best friend. My hero. My knight. The year before my freshman year, Brother got weaker. He told me after being in the hospital a few days, Some bout will come along that I won’t survive.

"You promise me you won’t die! You are my knight, always here to rescue me. You can’t die! Promise me! Promise me now! Promise!"

Nobody can promise that, Little Brother. But, even if I die, I will always watch over ya.

I saved my allowance and bought an action figure, a knight, to give to him for his final birthday. Just before Thanksgiving, my world collapsed.

Mrs. Radcliff laid a new jigsaw puzzle in his casket. I watched in horror as they closed the lid on my knight. I couldn’t believe my big brother was never coming back.

BROTHER!

Mom yelled at me all the time about that. He’s dead! He ain’t comin’ back! Get that through your thick head now!

I cried myself to sleep every night, asking God for just one more day with Brother. I was lost without him.

"Even if I die, I will always watch over ya."

+ +

Chapter 1 To Die For

Early childhood surgery put me behind in High School. I turned eighteen before my senior year. Amazing how much difference one year makes when you’re young. Wasn’t much out of the ordinary for most boys in my class. Birthdays fell wrong or something put them behind, too. Those of us not eighteen were nineteen. Can’t say I was adventurous--dated the same girl the first three years there. Why she liked me I never understood. My girlfriend moved on to college without me. Left me high, dry, and still a virgin. Not likely that would change. Me? I was Vice President of the Math and Science Club, President of the Chess Club, and had no interest in sports. I was what most kids considered a nerd. Some things were about to change at a dizzying rate.

Everybody talked about our new Varsity Coach. They said he was hot. Built like a young Greek god. His eyes, the deepest of blue, caught everybody’s attention whether they meant them to or not. Contrasted with his black hair, dark bronzed body, and square jaw, his eyes were unavoidable. Coach Dye, as in to die for, the giggly girls nicknamed him, the object of their daydreams. I wasn’t sure if he was attractive or not, never thought much about a man’s looks. One thing’s for certain. He set out to shake up the status quo in our school’s sports programs and our P.E. classes, leaving no stone unturned. He let it be known right away the two things he would not tolerate were quitters and benchwarmers. He put the quietus on bullying too. Coach Dye said that kind of behavior only leads to quitters and benchwarmers.

His attitude didn’t bother me. I wasn’t in sports. And I scraped by adequately in P.E. by staying in the shadows and appearing to participate. A doctor’s excuse or note from home helped me escape swimming, though. I was deathly afraid of water!

The Varsity Football jocks met his every challenge in pre-season practices. Some said he was as mean as a boot camp drill sergeant. Italian and Mexican boys aren’t from tall families. Coach stood nearly a foot taller than all of us. I chuckled to myself watching the boys puff out their chests and raise their arms in near-like bodybuilder stance whenever he was in sight. Boys that age will do that, try to be as much a stud as the biggest rooster in the chicken coop. It was comical. They reminded me of Bantam roosters who didn’t believe they could get their asses kicked by a rooster twice their size!

Maybe they respected him. Maybe. Even so, the locker room still had its own pitfalls.

Hey shit head! Trey tapped the back of my knee so I collapsed on the bench. Whatcha doin’ in the senior section?

Smartass jock quarterback and his best bud made the rounds. Guess that day was my turn.

Before I could smart back at him, Chad answered for me. Think they let that puny sissy puff his way to senior? Guess they’ll pass anybody!

They passed you, Chad. Ever learn to read anything but nursery rhymes? That rebuttal could get my face punched.

Another jock stepped between us. Oh my gods! They’re ganging up on me! He picked up my shirt. Looks like ya overshot yor locker. He opened my locker door, hung my shirt on the hook, and turned to facedown the dogs. What? Yor mammas didn’t tell ya to play nice today?

Trey started to answer. But when he saw his challenger clench his fist to raise, he huffed at him and then retreated quietly.

Coach Dye cornered me just before the class bell. Oh gods! I can’t tell him what happened. That’ll make it worse!

Hey, Tapman! He walked up to me in the locker room. His voice ebbed masculinity and hinted of genuine concern. Why aren’t you in any sports?

I immediately tried to conceal my unwarranted bodily reaction behind the jockstrap in my hand with no luck. But he hadn’t noticed and thankfully none of the other guys did either! I quickly sat on the bench and grabbed my gym shorts to cover my lap. I was clueless to the cause of this. This was my fourth year of thinking about rotting garbage to keep from embarrassing myself in the showers where all those boys would have immediately taunted me for it. I saw other guys get branded. Each got the tag, Queer or Fag or some other derogatory title added to his name, permanently. There was Loose Bruce and Buck Sucks and Queen Dean and so on. None of them noticed me. Here I sat and hoped Coach Dye didn’t see it either.

He stepped closer to me. Coach raised one foot to rest it on the bench beside me. Now his muscular calf next to me rising from the bench, and that thigh squeezed out of his tight shorts in direct line of sight. My eyes were going places I didn’t want them to go, and so was my mind! His shorts form-fitted him up to his waist. A tight waist. I quickly diverted my eyes away from this man hunk to the floor.

Now look, Tapman. I’ve seen your file. You haven’t even tried for any sport. I’m sure he at least sensed my struggle as his eyes seemed to burn a hole right through my arm.

My heart raced and so much blood rushed I felt dizzy. Chicken shit! Think about chicken shit! I rolled the thought in my mind. Where did these thoughts come from? I wasn’t one of those people. My mind seemed as out of control as my switch. Chicken shit! Think about the smell of it, nasty stuff. I tried to picture stepping in it and being disgusted.

All right, so I admit it. Years before, I thought I had a battle. I found myself thinking of some boys as attractive. Dismissed it like my preacher said to. Resist the Devil and he’ll flee from you, Reverend Radcliff advised me. So, I did. Battled over and over and it all went away. My mind settled on girls, one in particular. She kept me primed and teased the hell out of me with no relief. Teased me to the point all I thought about was her. Until this moment it was only girls, my object of desire. But this man? Oh this man! Things I never let my mind think about before!

Cat got your tongue, Tapman? He coaxed.

I tried to peel my eyes away from him again. He leaned forward, closer to me. His V-neck shirt hung from his body, not touching him anywhere but the lobes of his massive mounds of chest. The lights caught the yellow shorts just right. A thin mark of hair wiggled a line up through his lower abs, rising and falling over each ridge until it hit his navel. My uncontrollable eyes ran patterns, searching his body from neck down to thigh.

Once more I shifted nervously on the bench. I couldn’t quit appraising this man. What the hell is wrong with me? The girls were right. His body was to die for. Stop that! Oh hell no! Don’t think that! Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but I licked my lips wondering.

He rested his elbow on his raised leg, hand dangled in front of my obsession, playing with his pen, making it into a finger toy to be first looped with every other finger and then pulling it out of that position only to roll it between his thumb and ring finger. He tapped the pen twice on his clip board and returned to rolling it.

Sports, Tapman. I asked you about you and sports. His cold, calculated voice snapped me back into reality. The bench became painfully hard on my butt. Again I shifted in an attempt to find relief.

I tried to laugh, but all that did was make my voice crack. Me? Me and sports? I’m more of a Chess and Math kinda guy. Sports? What? You think I’d make a good hockey stick or baseball bat?

My own words made me laugh. It was true. Taller by far than all of my classmates and scrawny wisp that I was. Biggest part of me was giving me problems right then. By gods, I did everything to keep it satisfied as many times a day as it took. Levi 501’s we all wore in silent retaliation of the School Board’s rule against sagging. Each of us boys managed to keep at least one button undone. None of the adults noticed except maybe Mr. Faucet and Mr. Fairaday. We caught them checking us out on a regular basis. Those two? Fairies off a cake, our wise-ass star quarterback called them. The trend or silent protest cost the price of being comfortable. 501’s can sure bite into me!

I’d take the baseball bat. He laughed too. I sure as heck wouldn’t want you on my defense line. They’d mow you over like a blade of grass!

Now I felt he insulted me.

Math, huh? His voice turned all businesslike. I need a statistician at the games. Now, don’t tell me you’ve got something better to do on Friday nights. I heard your girlfriend’s away at school. That’s gotta suck.

Honest, Coach? My crotch still ached and I tried to lean away from him. Didn’t he know what would happen placing a nerd in with a bunch of jocks? I looked for a way out of this. I don’t know the first thing about football.

You don’t, huh? Think of football as a chess game on steroids. It’s all rules and numbers, Tapman. Applied science and math. You’ll catch on in no time.

But Friday or Saturday nights? Away games? After midnight before I get home. I’m pretty sure my moth… I caught that self-castrating thought mid-sentence. Looking about, most all the boys were already out of the locker room. One straggler was out of earshot. Vincent, the new kid, made the football team but hadn’t learned jocks were supposed to hate us nerds. Bet that would soon change. The bench stabbed painfully at my bony butt. More shifting. No amount of shifting comforted me.

He whispered, Mother. Mmm. That’s gotta suck. Coach leaned even closer to me. He placed a firm hand on the back of my neck and squeezed. I’m sure he meant the touch to be assuring, but instead it was engaging! Now his V-neck shirt gaped open above his muscled torso. The opening aimed straight at my eyes. Don’t look! I saw the rounded hemispheres of his brawny chest, parted in deep cleavage by a wide band of black hair that trailed to each dark brown disk revealed by his hard nipples poking out his shirt, lifting the material far enough for a good look. Holy pecs, Batman! Why were his nipples hard? Was it cold in there? Maybe they were always hard. Some boys are like that. I never noticed his until then. The sight of his bare chest made my heart race all the more. The mounds of it larger, firmer and more attractive to me than my girlfriend’s ever were!

I wanted to reach out to touch and explore his chest. Stop that! To find what his body felt like. Chicken shit. Chicken shit!

My mind tried to run interference with my torrid thoughts. Chicken shit. Think about chicken shit. Nothing arousing about chicken shit. Cool. Right? NO. Look somewhere besides his chest! His abs below it. No! His crotch below those abs block a view to his legs. NO! Don’t look there! Where to look? Where to look that wouldn’t add to the arousing thoughts and sights already flooding my mind with him. Look where? Those deep blue eyes I could get lost in. Such a deep blue, the darker lines of blue seemed to starburst.

Chicken shit! Chicken shit ain’t working for me! I’m not one of those people! This can’t be!

My minister told me that all boys have those evil thoughts about other boys at about twelve years old. He said I would overcome it with the help of God. So I packed it all away, way back then. Now it was back out in full force! Overcome it? It was overcoming me! I shifted my weight from my left hip to my right. Wrong! That put my face even closer to him.

Tapman, you don’t think I know what it’s like to grow up with an overprotective mother. But I do. Probably got you scared of swimming, too. Let me handle her. If you’re sure you want this, I’ll get it for you.

Want this? HOT CRAM!

YES! Too much enthusiasm, maybe. Yes, I guess that would be okay. So, yes. I want it.

Good. Coach said as he squeezed and released the back of my neck. Tapman, I won’t mark you late. Go use the bathroom before you come out to the field. Things could get harder for you out there if you go outside like this. You know? Needing to pee.

. . .

My younger sister met me in the driveway when I got home that afternoon. I parked Dad’s old pickup near the end of the drive so Mom could get out in the morning. Sissy had her tattletale voice in full gear, Mom’s on the phone with one of your teachers. Ya better start thinking your way outta whatever ya screwed up this time!

Mom had no problem with breaking curfew for Friday nights’ games. I don’t know what ya’ve done to bring his attention. But he’s afraid yo’ll grow up to be too soft if some man don’t intervene soon. Sure ain’t gonna be yor dad. That much was true. Poor henpecked Dad. You’re gonna have to go to the team practices too if yor gonna learn anything about football.

I smiled. I think...

"I? Ya gonna start that I business again? I don’t give a boar’s tit what I thinks. And wipe that smart-alecky grin off yor face! This is serious. The man says ya gotta learn how to swim, and ya won’t do it in class. He’s gonna take ya in the pool after every practice."

Take me in the pool? Hell! He could take me anywhere he fraggin’ wants! Couldn’t help it, I smiled again.

Mom slapped me. Ya get it together, now! Yor a hair’s breadth from gettin’ a bad reputation like yor buddies Mikey and Joey. Mister Dye is fearful for ya. Ya gotta learn to be a man. BE A MAN! Best offer ya got! Ya better not screw it up!

Yes ma’am. Be a man. Promise you that, Mom. She didn’t hear me chuckle. Escaping conversation with her screwed up rule against me using the pronoun, I, was danged near impossible. Oh hell! Escaping any conversation with her was a good day! And people still notice me avoiding that word. sure as hell had it beat outta me enough times! Take that to the bank. Escape from her, escape from a reality too harsh, with my bedroom door locked and stereo on, I spent that evening fantasizing about Coach.

. . .

I was unsure of this new enterprise. After all, three other P.E. teachers tried to teach me to swim. All they succeeded in doing was embarrassing me in front of my classmates. That’s why I brought forged excuse notes to keep me out of that danged pool.

Suppose you start by telling me why you don’t want to swim, he said our first evening at the poolside. Coach stood motionless in the water. His powerfully built arms above his head, hands locked behind his neck, hairy armpits exposed, and chest thrust forward.

I wasn’t sure he’d believe me, but I told him anyway. Why I don’t want to swim? Water. Most likely he needed more of an answer than that. "Earliest memory I have is my uncle throwing me in the lake and screaming, SWIM SISSY BOY! SWIM OR DROWN!" I didn’t mean to use Uncle’s malicious name for me. Somehow I hoped Coach would overlook it. I maintained my safe stand with both feet planted firmly on the bottom rung of the ladder and both hands gripping the rails.

So, what happened, Tapman?

Next thing I remember is swallowing a bunch of water that stung my nose and inside my sinuses. Guess I blacked out, because after that Mom and my aunt were pressing my stomach, chest and back to make me cough up water on the beach. Looked back at the lake and Dad was walking outta there with blood on his fist. He broke my uncle’s nose. Something occurred to me for the first time in my life. Only time I ever knew Dad to stand up for me. He caught hell for it from Mom and her sister. I never wanted to go near the lake again after that. Not even out in my friend’s boat.

Some kids do learn to swim that way, he stated flatly. I did. But, I understand your fear. You don’t think I know what fear is, but I do. As long as you’re afraid of water, you’ll never navigate through it. Here’s what I’ll do. He offered me a hand to step down off the ladder. Reluctantly, I took that step. I promise you no matter what, I won’t let you drown. I’ll never let go of you unless you want me to. You’ll always be within my reach. But, you’ve got to make this leap of faith and trust me. I don’t expect you to be at ease nor trust me right away. We’ll have to build up to that.

Three other P.E. teachers tried to teach me to swim. They failed.

Mmm mm, Coach replied. "That’s because they tried to teach you. I believe you already know how to swim. What you need is a coach to help you bring it out and use it."

And so we went to the pool each evening after the team left from practice. I didn’t think any of them knew it. I hid in the bathroom stall, took care of my urges, and came out whenever I heard the last of the players leave. Coach spoke very few instructions. The majority was by his placing a hand on my arm or leg and making it do what he told me to do. Mostly, he talked with me. I got the feeling it didn’t matter what we talked about. He engaged me in conversation to access my fearfulness or get my mind off the fact that I was in water and could drown! Of that, I am sure.

Except for the setting sun, parking lot lights were the only thing keeping the dark night from engulfing us. Faced down in the pool, and only enough of my mouth above water to breathe. Coach faced the same direction I was. He balanced me with my hip resting on his. His left arm wrapped around my back and held me atop the water with that hand on my stomach and his other hand supporting my chest. This was going nowhere. I promised to do everything he asked. Promised and hoped he’d ask for what I wanted! Coach started me out the first few evenings hanging on to the side of the pool and then on a float board, practicing my leg kicks.

We’ll work on staying afloat some other time. His voice was warm but firm. All the floating in the world won’t help you if you don’t know how to use your legs. Up and down. No. Separate your legs. You can’t lock them together. Now KICK!

Once I’d kicked to his satisfaction, he moved closer to my waist, let go of my chest, and ordered me to use my arms. I sank head first into the water! He pulled me up, completely out of the water with a strong hand on each of my hips. Suspended above the water facing him, I gasped for air and fought the water out of my eyes and off my face with both hands. Panic! I looked down to see if he was looking at my crotch. It was right in front of his face, after all. But then he looked up at me and he smiled.

I told you I won’t let you drown, but you have to trust me. Do you trust me?

Yes, Coach. I trust you. But that don’t mean I’m not afraid.

Only way you’ll overcome that fear is to swim. His smile was so assuring. Now, try it again.

This time he faced my side at my hips. He placed one firm hand under my right hip next to him. His left arm went under my waist and braced the other hip. Both hands were dangerously close to the top band of my Speedo. I was aware he drifted us into deeper water. Guess he thought I wouldn’t notice and panic for the quad-zillionth time. What I did notice was the warmth of his breath, now closer on my cold wet back. I was also aware of my spranger betraying me. I mean, I took care of that in the bathroom stall while he was saying goodnight to the athletes. My preventative measure sometimes worked. But to be honest? I was as frustrated as buck rabbit separated from a doe by a simple pane of glass!

I found my mind going back to the argument with Mom about needing a new swimsuit. I outgrew my old one in more ways than one. Besides it stretched thin to its limits across my flat butt to the point where I knew my crack could be seen through it. I wondered if Coach noticed that. There was no room to spare as I carefully packed my limp boy toy into it.

Many evenings of coaching and some progress, Okay, said Coach Dye. You can dog paddle if all else fails. But air is still a fear for you.

Only because I can’t breathe under water!

We both laughed. His laugh was contagious, thrilling, comforting and endearing all in one. The man behind that hot body was a genuine and caring guy. Full of ideas and experiences he didn’t seem to mind sharing with me. Sharing with me, and letting me open up about my life. Somewhere along the line, that image of a Greek god kind of dissolved to become somebody outside my family who I could talk with. That’s something I lost a long time before. I missed it. Seemed by that time, everybody in my family talked at me.

When we get your arms synchronized, you’ll be able to grab a breath while swimming on the surface. You’ll see.

I can just hold my breath. I can hold it at least a minute.

A minute’s a long time. Show me. He pulled on the stopwatch hanging from his neck. Go down. I’ll signal you at one minute.

I had no idea his signal was going to be one of his hands on top of my head holding me down! I realized his intent on that as I also realized I didn’t take in quite enough air to prove this. Worse yet? My face was inches away from his groin. What was it about this man and yellow? His tight yellow Speedo left nothing to my imagination. Gods, how I wanted a clear, unobstructed view of him! Don’t think that now! Chicken shit! I struggled to come up and was met with resistance from his firm hand. Don’t know what he said, but I knew he said something muffled by the water in my ears and witnessed by the rippling of his washboard stomach.

I slipped from under his hand at the same time my feet lost traction on the bottom of the pool. I slid face first into him. If my chin and left cheek had fingers, I would have snatched the prize!

WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! He once more lifted me from the water with a hand on each hip. I wasn’t sure if he liked doing that or it was just the quickest way to rescue me and let me get air. Whatever the reason, his strong arms lifted me effortlessly like I would lift a piece of paper. That’s not even half a minute, Tapman.

Sorry, Coach.

No big deal. Like I said, we’ll work on it in the future. He patted my shoulder. Try this. He took off swimming a roundtrip the length of the pool on his back. I used the opportunity to adjust myself, forcing my sprang to one side, resting it in my concave pelvis. Bracing it down, I pulled the swimsuit string tighter to keep it from peaking out the top of the band. WOW! Poetry in motion. He was poetry in motion! I suddenly understood why starry-eyed lovers wrote poetry. His swimming was elegant, not splashy nor a struggle, just smooth swimming. The water barely stirred. All the while his colossal chest, his tight stomach, his bulging swimsuit, and his OMG! biceps and shoulders in full view. No way was I ready to swim anything like that!

That’s what we’ll try. He was confident. He lifted me with one hand under my legs and the other under my back. I was unsteady as he struggled to keep me balanced. Struggled like a fish out of water! Glad I took that opportunity to adjust myself before he exposed my crotch to light. It’s all fine, Tapman. I’ve got you. Relax. He smiled again as I tried to loosen every tense muscle in my body.

I smiled back. This isn’t as scary as face down in the water.

No. It won’t be. He cleared his throat. Did you go to the prom with your girlfriend last year?

Recalling the bad experience, I groaned in frustration.

Tapman, your mother did let you go to the prom, didn’t she?

Yes. I finally answered as he motioned me to kick my legs. It’s just that Sheryl was voted Queen of the Prom.

Nothing wrong with that. So your girlfriend is popular. You should be proud.

More like jealous, I countered. Queen of the Prom spent the rest of the dance with King of the Prom.

I’m sorry. I know that’s gotta suck. He wiped water from his face with his big palm. Your first serious girlfriend and getting hurt. You may not think I know what that’s like. But I do. I’ve had my share of spurning.

I stopped kicking. You, Coach? What girl in her right mind would spurn you for another guy?

Oh, you are young. Tapman, there’s much more to being girlfriend and boyfriend than looks or wants or personality. There has to be chemistry.

Chemistry?

Maybe you haven’t experienced it yet. You are young."

Stop saying that! I was pissed! I pushed off his arms and stood up in the water. I may be young and inexperienced in the matters of chemistry, but I’m not a child!

No. Coach motioned for me to get back in the position I just pulled out of. I did. He shook his head and water dripped from his hair onto my chest. Not what I meant at all. Of course you’re not a child. It’s just that, someday, you’ll see it and feel it for the first time. Chemistry. It can make or break your relationship.

Does it work both ways? I asked.

Yes. If it’s going to work at all, it has to be mutual. First time I was in love, well, I was much younger than you. The age difference turned out to me getting taken advantage of and played for a sucker. It wasn’t mutual.

People like that usually get their’s back. It’s a round world. What goes around comes around.

Yep. That’s enough for tonight. You get showered and I’ll lock up.

. . .

Sis and her roommate, Barbara, were visiting at the house. Forgot it was a Wednesday. Mom was never happy about Sis moving out of the house. She had a good job, her own car, and her life-long friend as a roommate. Mom would have stopped her from moving out if she could. Can’t stop an independent adult child from making their own way when they’ve determined. And can’t micromanage their lives from arm’s length. That’s why Sis moved out. I’m sure of it. The compromise was Sis and Barb went to Church with us on Sunday mornings and had dinner at home with us midweek.

Sis jumped up from the couch and hugged me before I could close the door behind me. Little Brother, you missed dinner.

Mom, always jealous of my sister with me, interrupted. He’s takin’ swimmin’ lessons. That new coach has taken a couple a boys in tow who don’t know how to swim. The man must be a saint! He’s more in-nersted in the boys gettin’ along and growin’ up with good principles than winnin’ those football games. Could be he don’t understand the ’portance of it in a small town. Nice man, but I don’t give him a snowball’s chance in hell for a second year if that football team loses this year. Ran the last coach off for that, don’t ya know.

A couple of boys? That didn’t make sense, but I said nothing about it. Sis, don’t you need a smoke break? I knew Mom wouldn’t let her smoke in the house. To the front porch we went, leaving Barbara to fend for herself. Not like she didn’t know Mom to be a bitch when she wanted to be.

Thank you, Little Brother. Sis lit her cigarette. I needed fresh air!

I took the pack from her hand and lit one for me.

You know Mom will smell that on you, she cautioned.

I’ve got an excuse for smelling like smoke. I’m out here with you smoking. I don’t know what in my face gave me away, but Sis picked up on it.

She leaned back on the porch rail and studied me. Something’s changed with you. She said. We’ve never kept secrets from each other. Don’t expect that’ll ever change. Or has it?

She was right. Sis was the Mom to me and my little sister that Mom could never be. She was kind, loving, understanding, forgiving, and intuitive. Things our mother lacked in her permanent hateful state of mind. It was Sis who taught me about boy grooming like acne care and deodorant. Even explained why Mom was obsessed with the idea I always had on clean underwear. She told me what’s what about the birds and the bees too. Gods know Dad would never quit hiding behind his newspaper long enough to do that.

I tried not to grin. How was I supposed to explain my feelings about Coach to her? I mean, I trusted her. After all, she stepped in between Mom and me getting beat half to death many times. But this? This was wrong and I knew it. How could she ever accept it without intervening? She couldn’t. Sis loved me and I knew she would fight heaven and hell for me if it meant keeping me from getting hurt or even setting myself up to get hurt. Sis was the one who took me shopping for new clothes when Sheryl left. Saying, Gotta make you marketable. Mom was furious about the shopping. Not like Mom and Dad could afford the shopping trip Sis paid for me. I think Mom was full of jealousy. Matter-of-fact, I’d bet on that and take it to the bank!

Well, it’s cool. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’ve got some things to tell you, too, when that day comes. She hugged me, letting me linger in her arms. Safe. Sis always tried with every ounce of her being to make me feel safe. Even though we both knew it was only good for the moment. How’s it going? Keeping Mom at bay and off your ass?

Books. I repeated, Books. You know as long as I’m hiding in reading, she’s content to leave me alone.

Dad never fixed that squeaky floorboard in the hall, did he? She snickered.

Back in the house, Mom was showing Barb another afghan. She worked out a new pattern. Cram! We had those stupid afghans everywhere! One on everybody’s bed. One on each piece of furniture in the living room. An extra one in the car and one in the pickup. Made a half dozen of them for church alter calls, too. She was obsessed with them. Now her goal was to make 100 of them to send to a Native American mission up north, somewhere cold and they needed blankets. Seems that’s all she ever did when she wasn’t reading one of us to filth and taking us to task. When Dad went to bed before her, she sat up working on those all night.

I wasn’t sure of Barb. Yes, she and Sis’s friendship went way back to kindergarten and she was around enough to know all the family dirt and skeletons. But her younger sister was Sheryl. Since I wasn’t sure where I stood with my girlfriend anymore, I was careful what I said around her and listened carefully whenever she mentioned her. Yet, something was sly about her now and I quit trusting her altogether. Sure wasn’t going to give in and pump her for news of her wayward sister.

. . .

A car horn, bright lights flashed on us. If it was Mom, I was going to be way past embarrassed. Coach excused himself, lifting his body out of the water at the edge of the pool exposing that V-shaped tanned body! His wet swimsuit clung tighter to him, if that was possible. Great view of that fine ass, too. He slicked the water from his hair. It ran down the middle of his back, catching the light and accentuating his musculature. A brown haired woman stood at the fence. I saw her hand a key on a chain to him. Guess Coach would get busy later. I didn’t know the woman, but I knew I hated her! He returned silently to the pool. His usually sparkling blue eyes were misty or glistening? Chlorine. Mmm.

He said, Sorry about that, Tapman.

Coach, if you need to call this early, I understand. I mean, you’ve obviously got something else to do. Obviously? Obviously breaking my heart and slamming a lid on my fantasies!

No. No. It’s all right. That wasn’t the beginning of something. It was the end. She’s moving out. Coach motioned for me to lay my body face down on his arms. I instinctively started kicking and trying to match my arm strokes to my legs.

I’m sorry. I know that’s gotta suck. Quickly noted I used one of his phrases. I would have swallowed the words if I could retract it.

Oh, don’t be sorry. It’s for the best. I knew it was coming. First year after we graduated college. Surprised it lasted that long. I hate the whole game playing of it. Seems I always get to the point where I’m drowning in love and fail to notice the lifeboat’s been launched without me. I don’t do well with these things. Giving up is hard. I gotta about get kicked in the teeth before I realize it’s over. He shook his head. His mind was somewhere else, preoccupied no doubt. He held me by his left arm over my waist and that hand on my left hip instead of on my waist. His right hand placed on my stomach instead of my chest. My arm strokes kept me afloat. What about your girlfriend? Haven’t heard you say anything about her lately.

Last I heard, she’s dating some macho college jock. I can’t compete with that.

Can’t compete with what?

A jock. Look at me. I’m a twig!

Don’t sell yourself short. There’s nothing unattractive about you. If all she’s looking at is a body type, she’s in for a world of hurt. He’ll screw up her mind and heart long before he’s finished screwing her body. Coach gasped. Maybe I wasn’t the only one with a poor choice of words. Sorry. That was blunt. But, Tapman, I warn you. Don’t ever take ’em back. Only thing they get better at is lying.

I felt he was talking to himself rather than me. Maybe he exposed more of himself than he intended. I never…I mean she tried to take…Well, I didn’t… And I was lost.

You’re kidding! You have since then though. Right?

No.

An eighteen-year-old virgin? That’s as rare as unicorns! Why?

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. I just figgered…if I never had sex…I’d never miss it. My arm stokes slowed as I chose my words more carefully. I couldn’t think of careful words, so I just came clean and right out with it, uncomfortable and embarrassing as it was.

He chuckled. Guess he was going to joke it off. Make light of a awkward conversation. But, you miss it anyway, don’t you? Bet you miss it at least once a day! He laughed.

More than once. I corrected him.

Well, twice then. Bet you miss it twice a day.

More.

Mmm. Three times then. His pace slowed. You miss it three times a day.

No. Not just three either. Look, I can’t talk to Dad about this. I can’t talk to him about much of anything. I’m scared. I think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, four times a day isn’t always enough. I must be crazy! I hesitated my strokes and kicks and he jolted me to notice and go back to work.

Coach was quiet for a few minutes. Four times not enough. Mmm. That’s gotta suck. He scratched the back of his head. Ain’t nothing wrong with you, man. Just four years between us and I can tell you. At our age, we’re like fraggin’ machineguns! Perfectly natural. Bet your mom scared you of that as well as sex.

Machineguns, huh? I didn’t want to talk about my mother. Although it occurred to me that she was a better spranger busting thought than chicken shit. How many clips do you carry?

Now it just turned weird. You are my student. I think we’ve breached a boundary here. He lifted me from the water, the way he always did, and stood me in front of him. So why aren’t you dating? Sounds like you’ve got your freedom?

Coach, how will I know if it’s the right one? Even if it’s worth the effort?

Oh. More things Dad won’t talk with you about? Listen. It was different for me than it will be for you. Your character and principles are much different and more mature than mine were at the time.

Are you saying you were younger than me?

Oh. I did say that out loud? He frowned. Not something I’m proud of. I was young, ignorant, and easily persuaded. I believe you’ll know when you find the right one. The one you’re willing to give your all to. I admire your standards.

My all to?

I’m not going to spell that out for you.

But, the right one. How will I know?

You weren’t in love with Sheryl, obviously or you would know. I know he was trying to gather his thoughts and choose his words carefully. Some mold we slipped farther out of for a time that evening. The right one. Well, I’m not sure I can explain all of it. Your heart will race at sight. Your body will tingle at touch. Your mind will get fixated on the right one. You’ll do anything you can to be together, to spend time together. Mere thoughts will bring joy to your heart. You won’t want sex. You’ll want more than that. You’ll want to make love. And, you’ll live in mortal fear of losing all that.

Coach, I have experienced all that. But you’re right. It wasn’t with Sheryl. I know now that it never could’ve been.

Lucky you didn’t give yourself to her, then. Your first time should be very special. You should be able to trust and not get your heart broken. He leaned his head to one side and used the butt of his hand to pound water from his ears. Crazy. Let’s do something CRAZY!

OH GODS YES! escaped my mouth without control. That conversation left a burning thought in my imagination of us two buzzing off together. In my dreams!

Coach looked at me oddly. I mean the diving pool. I’ll dive from the high tower and you follow me.

I can’t! I’ll sink like a rock! I protested.

Sink like a rock then. And push off from the bottom to come back up. And he was already scaling the tower. C’mon! It’s closer to the night sky up here! Then he sat down on the diving platform. I wasn’t missing a chance to sit next to him and look at the stars!

See that big white one on the horizon? Evening Star, Venus, He said with authority.

I couldn’t stop my words. Venus. Goddess of love. Venus.

Well, yeah, if you’re into mythology. I studied astronomy. That’s Mars. The faint red one over there getting ready to chase Venus across the night sky. Guess you’re going to say Mars is God of War. Right? I’m more of a Mars kind of guy than a Venus.

You mean you’d rather fight than make love?

No. Not fight. Just that I put a lot of intensity into love. I love like a warrior.

I took a deep breath pushing my stomach out as far as I could in an attempt to keep my weapon from topping the band of my Speedo. CRAM! The very thought of Coach making love to me like a warrior sent a tingle up my spine from my tailbone to my scalp. So I was covered with chill bumps. I folded my arms and shivered.

You’re cold, Tapman, Coach said as he brushed my thigh next to him with the palm of his hand. Chill bumps. Well, that touch of his only made them worse! He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and rubbed my far arm with his hand, quickly with friction. Let’s get back in the water, and then we’ll call it quits. With that, he stood and dove into the pool.

I stood at the edge of the platform, teeth chattering, and knees trembling. It must be a hundred feet deep!

Eighteen feet deep. Remember what I told you. Kick up from the bottom.

I’ll sink like a rock! I’ll sink like a rock and never come back up!

You said you trust me. Just do it!

I stepped off the edge and went feet first into the water. The noise of breaking the surface pounded in my head for a brief moment and then underwater silence. I was going down fast! I saw the diving lights coming at me from the bottom of the pool. Push up from the bottom? Really? But I didn’t reach the bottom. Didn’t reach the bottom and nothing I tried could take me to the top. I was stuck! Maybe there was a yard from my feet to the bottom of the pool. None of the walls were close enough to kick off from either. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I struggled to move. And then everything went black. Black, then a bright light flickered on a silhouette, and finally all went black to stay black.

I felt the prickling of whiskers around my mouth. My nose pinched shut and another hand was on the inside of my thigh. BREATHE TAPMAN! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! BREATHE! Coach was pleading with me. In an instant, warm air forced its way through my mouth, down my throat. It tasted of chlorine and smelled of aftershave. My first thought was to find out how his mouth tasted! But thinking better of it, I settled for just prolonging his attempts to make me breathe. And why not? Probably the closest I’d ever come to having this man kiss me! I was painfully aware of my ever increasing spranger against the back of his other hand.

I opened my eyes. We were eyeball to eyeball. OH GODS! Those deep blue eyes!

OH! THANK GOD! He shouted. Tapman, you scared the living daylights out of me! GOD! I thought you were dead for sure! You all right little buddy? He helped me sit up. His hand, no doubt absentmindedly caught in my crotch, now wedged between my overloaded machinegun and thigh.

I placed one hand over his in my lap. "Well, if I’m a little buddy, I want to know what you’re packing!"

You slay me, Tapman! Get dressed. Time to go home.

I so wanted to grab his hand and put it back. Gods know I wanted to pull his face back into mine. A guy can dream, can’t he?

* * * *

Chapter 2 Friend or Foe

I sat in the main hall bathroom stall, taking care of my lunchtime needs so I could button my pants after my usual noontime pee. Close to finishing and checked my watch to see if there was enough time left to edge it once more. The door was large and noisy. Nobody could surprise me without me knowing they entered. Or so I thought. Suddenly a head with long, stringy, green and purple hair appeared under the wall from the stall next to mine.

Mikey! I was shocked! Mikey, you got no right to…

Oh un-lax, Tapman. Ain’t like I don’t know what ya do in here every day. Mikey glared at my lost privacy as I stood to stuff everything into my shorts and hoist my jeans. I now knew from my own desire what it meant when he licked his lips. Oh, you’re much bigger now than when we used to write our names in the snow. Damn! Mighty fine! That’s huge!

I kicked at his head with my foot. Mikey and Joey and I were The Three Musketeers beginning in first grade. Adults quite often confused me with Mikey. Something we learned to take to full advantage. We believed they were too preoccupied to pay attention to details like that. It was always a joke. Mikey usually stepped forward and took the blame for my infractions at school. His mother wasn’t as volatile as mine. In a pinch, we could anticipate each other’s thoughts. That close we were back then. Made it easier to keep stories straight enough to back out of a scolding. But Joey? Joey dragged us headlong into deep trouble constantly. It was Mikey’s cleverness that always fixed it so we got away with it. At third grade, new kid in town, that was poor, pathetic Tony. He failed to fit in with any other click, so he hung on the outskirts of ours. We once thought our friendship was invincible. Shame that Mike’s behavior in our freshmen year earned him the tag, Fag Mike or Let Mikey Likey. Not long after that, rumors had it Joe threw a keg party for the junior varsity football team. I wasn’t invited so I never knew if it was true. From then on, the players always called him Joe the Ho or Joe Ho. Sheryl was all about popularity. She warned me to distance myself from them. Guilt by association, she predicted. I pulled away. They were busy with their own lives and didn’t notice. Not until now, at least.

SOOOOO! Mikey always was dramatic. "So, you and Coach To Die For, huh?"

I was enraged! How dare he suggest such a thing! Angrier still because I wanted it to be true. You don’t know what you’re taking about. I… That big noisy door opened and footsteps led to the urinal. Mikey disappeared to his side of the stall wall. He slipped me a note moments later.

Meet me at the smoke hole. NOW!

Fourth period, Mrs. Radcliff would fold if I sweet talked her after school. Didn’t need Mom finding out I cut class. I hoofed it through the woods to the town park. Lots of pines around the His and Hers restrooms there. Summer Houses, the town’s people called those. Summer for men and summer for women. Old joke got no laughs anymore. A chin-high wall shielded the men’s door on two sides and the third was blocked by a wall like it at the women’s door. This was everybody’s smoke hole, kept secret only from school administration. Even the teachers knew and used it.

Mikey lit a second cigarette and handed it to me as I rounded the corner. Girrrrlll! You and…

I cut him off. I am not a girl! Don’t never call me that again!

Okay. Okay, he shot back. "I won’t. But you and Coach Apollo?"

I dragged long and hard on the smoke to hot boxed the whole of it and hoped he would give me another before this war of words ended in a ceasefire. Long enough to set a record straight. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t think Coach would either.

"BULLSHIT! Joe and me always thought ya was cut from the same cloth as us. But Coach Agamemnon? How the hell did ya land that stud? I mean, he kicked me out of STATS when he first got here last summer. Said he didn’t care what his players did on the weekends, but he wasn’t gonna have ’em chompin’ at the bit to end practice early and me wearing ’em out during the week."

So it was Mikey who I replaced as statistician? Dang it! Worse yet, rumors were right then. Mike and Joe were doing things with the jocks. Doing things for the jocks. Things their girlfriends maybe didn’t want to do.

I was scared. Scared if he spread such a rumor, Coach would have no defense. Why did he stick his neck out so far for me? Maybe he didn’t understand about small-town gossip. That’s it. The man was naïve, ignorant even. I must put an end to this. I was ignorant of such things. All I had was my imagination. Certainly no experience in dealing with it openly.

I needed to appeal to Mikey’s sense of decency. Did he have any left? Maybe our old friendship still carried some small weight with him. Mikey, I swear to gods, there’s nothing going on between me and Coach. You gotta believe me.

Mikey threw his hand back with the cigarette like an old movie starlet. Me thinks the lady protesteth too much! He leaned toward me, exhaling smoke in my face. I coughed. Darling, he paused for emphasis, you are shittin’ me! His voice took on a quick paced, accusatory tone. I see the way ya look at that man! Ya never take your eyes off him the entire gym period. On top of that, I’ve seen the two of ya leaving the school, separate cars I’ll give ya, but leaving the school long after practice is over and the jocks have gone home. Don’t lie to me! You deny the two of ya are staying at school after hours? His pace slowed and now he seemed as dramatic a prosecuting attorney laying out his evidence. Ya can’t deny you’re at least infatuated with the man. And if ya are, he’s given ya reason to be. Has to be of his making. Gods know that stonewaller ain’t led on easy and ya ain’t got the experience. Mike crushed out his cigarette with his foot. Crushed mine too when I dropped it in the gravel at our feet. He lit our next ones.

He’s innocent, Mikey. I swear it. My hand shook as he tried to relight my smoke. He would never think along these lines. What did I have for defense? He lives with his girlfriend for gods’ sake. I’m sure he’s kept happy at home.

He sucked hard on his smoke. "Ya near had me! Nearly did. Innocent? Nearly had me snowballed until, well, happy at home? His girlfriend moved out!"

I blushed.

Never bullshit a bullshitter! I hate gettin’ lied to! She moved out, and ya know it! That man ain’t gettin’ happy anywhere but with you! Now come clean. Spill it! Or by gods I’ll expose both of ya!

No, Mikey. PLEEEEEEASE! If I tell you the whole truth you gotta believe me. I won’t lie to you. Just please don’t do what I think you’re about to do. Promise?

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t agree to nothin’. But, you’re the only friend I got who ain’t badmouthed me behind my back. So ya get this one for free. All right. I promise. Mikey hacked and spit between his shoes. I promise. But ya got one more chance, and I will ask questions about what ya say. Your story better hold up to a bright light!

I struggled at where to begin for a moment. Then when I started to explain, seemed like I laid bare my soul. I spewed all that I felt. I am infatuated with Coach. Only, I didn’t know that’s what it’s called until you just said it. At first I was mesmerized by his magnificent body. Oh, gods! What a body! Believe me, as I got to know him, spend time with him, and talk with him, I got to know how he thinks and what kind of heart the man has, well, I can’t think of anything but him! I count the minutes until we’re together again. When we’re not in that pool, I rehearse things to talk with him about because nobody else will talk with me the way he does. I’ve never felt this way about anybody. I needed to remember to breathe. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. But I do know what not to do. I would gladly give him everything I have, everything I am, everything nobody else has ever had, if he only wanted me. But he doesn’t. And, no. No. No, he’s not given me any reason to think or feel this way about him. It just happened in my own mind. He’s never known how I feel. I’m afraid if he did, he wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Mikey, pleeeease! If coach has to step away from me, I’ll die. I’ll just die!

Mikey looked me in the eye and I looked him right back. I know he was studying me to see if there was anything hinting of untruth.

DAMN! He at last exclaimed and whistled. Damn, Tap. Too much! Too much all at once! It’s too much! Dammit! You got it bad! Let me think.

His smart, quick thinking saved our asses when we were kids. Maybe he could still save mine. We sat on the bench there and I took his pack from him. A fresh pack. I packed it down, opened it and fumbled to pinch two cigarettes from it. Mikey took the pack, shook it once. One came part way out and he extended the pack to me to take it.

Thanks, I said as he lit it for me.

He grunted. Don’t thank me yet. I’m still thinking. We smoked in silence.

The wind shifted from the northwest. Ewww! Never did understand why the government came in and piped everybody’s sewage to a lagoon they built up there. People’s septic tanks never smelled like that!

Finally he began to speak. Ya mean to tell me that you…I mean you are…Well, that he is…DAMN! Tapman! This is much deeper than I ever expected. SHIT! So you and Sheryl never…

No.

You did with somebody else?

No.

SHIT! Many minutes passed. First time in his life I ever saw Mikey speechless. How in the hell did a rural kid ever grow up virgin? Ya gotta be one for the books!

"I