I remember snapshots of time, like the polaroids I can't pick up off the guest room floor. A picture of a Khmer boy back-flipping off a low wooden bridge; remember her gasping, burying her face in my shoulder until he resurfaced laughing, water running down his face, all white teeth and the bright whites of his eyes. Four of them clustered on the bridge waiting to jump, she gasps each time, horrified, waits for me to squeeze her shoulders, let her know they've bobbed up like ducklings. "Teacher, teacher! Swim!" And a scrawny boy is out of the water, shorts clinging to his skinny legs, water pouring off him and down my arm as he grabs me, drags me up the curve of the bridge. Takes my cane, leans it so carefully against the railing, pulling at my shirt "swim! Swimming!" He's stroking my arm, tugging the tails of my shirt, she's laughing at me from the bank, picking her way down to the water where the boys are flapping their hands at me "teacher! Teacher! Chicken!" Why did I teach them that? Chicken noises until I climb onto the railing, awkward, unsteady, damn leg won't do what I want but the kid behind me has small, cold, reassuring hands on my spine. I look back and he nods, smile so wide my face aches in sympathy.
"Teacher!" He's next to me on the railing, blue paint peeling off underneath my hands, sun hot on the back of my neck. He springs, back arched against the sun and lands with a crack in the river, resurfaces a long minute later and paws the water from his face. She's sitting on a rock, hand over her eyes until she hears him laughing, I can see her feet under the water, silver anklet, bright white V sandal mark flickering beneath the surface. "Like me teacher! Like me!" A back flip? "No way, I'm an old man!" They laugh, splashing, clear a space for me, "now teacher!" I fall more than jump, shock of the water, taste of it, pushing up towards the surface, deeper than I thought, skinny brown legs just visible and those two pale V shapes catch my eye.
Surfacing, wipe the water from my face, four sets of arms grabbing me around the neck and shoulders, under the water again, white flickers at the edge of my vision. Poke my fingers into their ribs until they dart off, quick as otters. Swim over, nowhere near as adept as the boys, run my cold fingers up her ankle, calf, rest there, on my knees in the cold water, looking up at her. Her hand on my cheek is hot, her lips warm, the boys are laughing and splashing us. I dry in the sun on the walk back to the village, the four small otters cavorting in front of us, sound of a silver anklet jingling as she walks.
"Teacher!" He's next to me on the railing, blue paint peeling off underneath my hands, sun hot on the back of my neck. He springs, back arched against the sun and lands with a crack in the river, resurfaces a long minute later and paws the water from his face. She's sitting on a rock, hand over her eyes until she hears him laughing, I can see her feet under the water, silver anklet, bright white V sandal mark flickering beneath the surface. "Like me teacher! Like me!" A back flip? "No way, I'm an old man!" They laugh, splashing, clear a space for me, "now teacher!" I fall more than jump, shock of the water, taste of it, pushing up towards the surface, deeper than I thought, skinny brown legs just visible and those two pale V shapes catch my eye.
Surfacing, wipe the water from my face, four sets of arms grabbing me around the neck and shoulders, under the water again, white flickers at the edge of my vision. Poke my fingers into their ribs until they dart off, quick as otters. Swim over, nowhere near as adept as the boys, run my cold fingers up her ankle, calf, rest there, on my knees in the cold water, looking up at her. Her hand on my cheek is hot, her lips warm, the boys are laughing and splashing us. I dry in the sun on the walk back to the village, the four small otters cavorting in front of us, sound of a silver anklet jingling as she walks.
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