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Kristine Kathryn RuschHer solace: those weekday afternoons before the school got out and the children invadedthe pool. For the last two weeks the weather had been fair. Sunlight streamed in thefloor-to-ceiling windows on the north and south face of the pool area dappling the waterwith brilliant yellow light. Rena particularly liked the way the light filtered into the artificialblue depths below the surface. When she swam into such a patch the water felt warmereven though it couldnt be.The pool was part of a rec center only four blocks from her new apartment a fact thatfrustrated her more than the apartment itself. The apartment had three small windowsfacing south and east with barely enough room on the sills for her small collection ofmalingering plants. The counters were too low the toilet too high and the chrome bar inthe shower always caught her in the back. More than anything she hated the apartmentssilence and hoped at her six month review the shrink at the pain center would say shehad recovered enough to care for a cat.By contrast the pool was never silent. Not even when she was underwater. She heard therustle of the filters the splashing of the other lap swimmers and the rhythmic bubblescaused by her exhaled breath. When she surfaced she heard voices and laughter theradio on a rock-and-roll station she would never play and the phone constant and shrillagainst the echoy boom of the large room itself. She never paid attention to whathappened on the decks. The fact that anything happened at all was enough for her.Saturday now Saturday was different. She never went to the pool on Saturday saving itspleasures for the weekday and for the pool attendants who were older. The teenagers whoguarded the place on the weekends stared at her. They couldnt hide their revulsion. Theadults were more skilled at hiding their shock.But this Saturday her stereos tuner went on the fritz sliding past each station she tried totune in. For a half hour she got
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