Swim to Me Read Online Free

child.
    No, that wouldn’t have to be so.
    Even though she was far away, Delores would try to be a father to him. She would support him and do for him all the things a father should do. She would be a good daughter and make her mother proud.
    Alone on the bus now, Delores realized she had no witness to her vow, only herself. But this was a promise born in love and sadness, and they were witnesses enough.
    A CROSS THE AISLE, a young couple was making out. They were both long and slender, and their bodies moved together like wheat in a breeze. She had large blue doll-eyes and straight blonde hair down to her waist. Her red, orange, and green striped bell-bottoms hung low on her hips, and, as her mother would say, they were so tight they looked as if they’d been painted on her. He had long, dirty black hair and hatchet-like sideburns. Occasionally, he’d lean over and plant feathery kisses on her forehead. They werewhispering, so Delores couldn’t hear what they were saying, only that they called each other “honey.” Sometimes she’d slap his arm and say, “You are too much.” Every now and then they would sing. Her voice was like spun sugar, sweet and airy. His had more of a twang to it. They went in and out of song, and Delores closed her eyes, soothed by their happy sounds. She pretended that they were her parents and they were singing her a lullaby. She thought about how her life would be different with parents like that. Maybe they were in show business. Maybe she would be in show business, too. She’d be popular. They’d travel all over the world, a rich and famous happy family.
    Delores knew that the Walkers were not really a happy family. She could spot happy families a mile away. They were always bumping against each other, like puppies in a crate. They told stories about each other that never added up to much, but were constant reminders that they all spoke the language of the family. The dads didn’t slouch and snap, “Now what?” whenever the moms called their names. The moms didn’t roll their eyes and say, “Ha-ha, so funny I forgot to laugh,” when the dads made jokes. Happy moms didn’t hold on too tightly to their daughters’ arms and tell them, “When it comes your time, marry for money. There’s nothing sexy about a man who can’t afford to buy you a steak once a week.” Happy dads didn’t talk about feeling “like a trapped mutt.”
    Westie’s family would be happy someday, she would certainly see to that.
    The last thing Delores remembered before she fell asleep was thinking how Westie would like it if she would learn to play the guitar. When she awoke, the sky was misty lavender, as it is at sunrise. Instead of the pine trees, there were palms: the bold royal ones that always look as if their hands are on their hips and their chests are round and puffy. As the morning sunlight blazed its way intothe afternoon, Delores grasped her situation.
I am on my own now,
she thought.
If I eat, if I sleep, if I stay alive—it’s all in my hands.
The truth of those thoughts was strangely familiar to her. It mirrored the way she felt when she was under water: alone, propelling herself forward, utterly unafraid.
    Twenty-three hours earlier, when she’d stood at the Port Authority bus station in downtown New York, there had been dozens of buses lined up, like horses in stalls. Now her bus pulled into a small yellow building with only one other bus. The young man across the aisle pulled a guitar case from the overhead rack. Then he pointed to Delores’s valise. “This belong to you?” She nodded yes, and he swung it over his head and put it by her feet. “All yours, little lady.” He smiled. The girl in the striped pants smiled, too, and said, “Have a good time now, ya hear?”
    â€œThank you,” said Delores, her lips sticking together from not having spoken for nearly a