Dreamland

A Poolish Affair

I am swimming, alone and naked, in a huge outdoor pool, which has built-in whirlpools, diving boards, and water-slides. The water temperature is perfect, I am thoroughly enjoying it. A large crowd of people show up, and jump in. Talking to each other and laughing, they are all obviously of the same group. I start to feel uncomfortable, since they're wearing bathing suits and I'm not, although a woman with the group says it's all right.

My wife walks up to the edge of the pool and I ask her to get my bathing suit for me. She refuses: "Get it yourself! I came here to tell you that I'm having an affair with Charles. He's an artist!" (as if that somehow justifies it), then she walks away.

This surprises me but I take it in stride, wrap a towel around myself and head back to the motel room to get my bathing suit. The motel itself is pretty shabby, the sort of cheap dive you might find in a bad neighborhood of a desert border town. (Not at all the kind of place you would expect to have such an amazing swimming pool.) I see my wife across the court. She's holding hands with a scruffy-looking guy wearing jeans and a paint-stained T-shirt. They're walking towards his room.

I put on my bathing suit and jump back in the pool. I'm greeted by a healthy-looking blonde who informs me she's with the group in the pool, a Polish American Club. We swim together and talk for a while about Eastern European culture, and she invites me to a party they are having that night. I tell her that I'm not Polish, but she says it doesn't matter. The people of the group are very friendly, and several of them insist that I should go: "Just bring some beer and you'll be welcome. You'll have a great time!"

I go back to my room and an old high-school friend of Polish descent, who I haven't seen in years, shows up to bring me to the party. We leave the motel, drive out of the dusty dirt parking lot in his Karmann Ghia, but before we get too far I realize I've forgotten the beer. I go back, to the room, and find my wife there waiting. She throws her arms around me and suggests that we make love. I push her away: "What about that artist you were with!"

She replies matter-of-factly: "Oh, that's over now."