Frogman
Chapter 2
On Sundays, my family and I usually go to church, but since we were at the beach on vacation, my Dad read to us about Moses parting the Red Sea. He said it was Mom’s idea since we were on the Gulf with miles of ocean in front of our living room window as a visual aid. Couldn’t we just imagine all that H2O splitting into two giant walls of water? When Dad got to the part about the Israelites escape and Pharaoh’s army drowning in the Red Sea, I could tell Mom was regretting her choice of Bible Stories. Her right knee was bouncing along and she was chewing the tip of her pen. As soon as Dad closed the good book as he calls it, she immediately dived into a lecture on rip tides. She didn’t let up for the next thirty minutes. But I was having a hard time concentrating on anything, because of my feet.
I had awoken before Sam and this time as I swung my legs out from under the covers, I remembered yesterday morning’s unusual vault to the bedroom door. I slowly lowered my legs and feet to the floor and stood up. Nothing happened. I took one step forward, then two, and three steps and nothing out of the ordinary occurred. I made it to the bathroom and began to brush my teeth when a little bit of foaming goo dripped from my chin and landed on my foot. That’s when I nearly swallowed my toothbrush. Mom always said toothbrushes could be dangerous, and now I actually believe her. There attached between each and every toe was a web of skin. I gagged. I coughed. I choked. I looked at my toes again. I hit myself in the face and felt hot needles from my blow. I was awake in my very own nightmare.
The first thing I thought was, tell Mom. She’d help. She used to be a nurse. But then I could see her rushing me to the E. R. where a doctor with a scalpel would slice the skin off between my feet. I wanted to surf today. I didn’t want to miss the waves. But how could I go to the beach and surf with these feet? I couldn’t wear flip flops; that was out of the question. I would have to wear my tennis shoes, which Mom would liken to little cannon ball weights attached to my feet to weigh me down, down under the dark and scary water.
I could tell her I had two massive blisters, but then she’d most likely want to pop them. There was no way I could tell Mom and Dad that I just didn’t feel like going to the beach. They would have checked me over for malaria, typhoid or tuberculosis. I had to go along. There was only one recourse; I had to borrow Dad’s aqua shoes. Yep, his beloved beach shoes. So here was the plan.
“Hey Dad, I was reading an article yesterday about surfing and it said that aqua shoes could really help you grip the board. Can I take your shoes out for a spin?” I asked wearing my board shorts and socks.
Dad looked down at his feet. He wiggled his toes inside his black and blue aqua shoes. “They are going to be too big for you.”
“Nah, not a problem. The article actually says that when the shoes are big they work better for you on the board.”
“Well, I don’t know about this.” Dad hesitated. He wasn’t going for it.
“You know your feet could stand to see a little sun today. I mean, after all, you do have a golfer’s tan. Why don’t you try to get some sun on them so they’ll match the rest of your legs.”
“Now, hold on there.”
“I bet Mom would appreciate it.” I smiled as innocently as I could.
Dad handed me his shoes. He wiggled his lily white toes on the carpet, grabbed his book and sunglasses and headed out the front door.
I on the other hand, after trading my socks for Dad’s shoes, grabbed my short board and headed for the surf. While I paddled out, something strange happened. It was if I was feeling water for the first time; it felt cool and amazing, like liquid gold. I had the overwhelming sense that I could live out there in the surf for the rest of my life and never walk on dry land again. It was the most incredible day of my life. But I also noticed something else. When I paddled out to the waves, I was slicing through them. I was swimming faster and stronger than I had ever imagined.
That night as I fell asleep, all I could think about was going back out to the ocean. And my dreams that night were all about the same thing. Cool, blue water.
The next morning, Monday, I was relieved to find that nothing else had changed while I was asleep. No new scales, claws, or bat-shaped ears; just my too weird to believe, feet. But Libby was on to me.
“Ewwwe. Are you serious? Those stinky socks, again. Mom!” Libby dropped her spoon into her bowl of granola. I raised my foot up as if to hold it under her nose.
“That’s quite enough. Alex, leave your sister alone.” Mom poured herself a bowl of cereal, but was looking at my feet. “Are you feeling cold?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Cause if you are, you can tell me. You know that. You can tell me anything. Are you sure you’re not feeling feverish?”
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“Alright. I just had to ask.”
So after that morning’s inquisition, we packed up and headed home, five people for five hours crammed into our minivan. And all I wanted to do was take a bath. Yeah, I know. It seemed totally weird to me, too.