Swimming Electric Blue Water. Samantha Holmes

week that Yuri won first place in the freestyle, butterfly, and breaststroke of the Slavic National Swimming Challenge, an event that usually indicated who would be chosen to represent the Eastern Bloc in the Olympics. It was very unusual for two swimmers to be chosen from the same region. Yuri was now the obvious choice from Velsk. Once you swam in the Olympics, doors opened to all other competitions, including the World Swimming Competition, which put you up against all swimmers, professional as well as amateur. If you won that, you were considered the greatest swimmer in the world.

      Swimming might not be as honored as other sports, team sports always had a better following, but everyone appreciated the strongest and fastest, and in that, there was an opportunity to get some of the reward. Corporate sponsorship, maybe a position in politics. Sponsors hand-picked several Olympians for office. Mayor Konikov… that sounded about right. With his constant companion and right hand man, Grigori Dubrovina.

      The two other seated men glanced in Yuri’s direction. Grigori tried not to gloat, but they had particularly sour faces. Grigori waved at them and caught one of the men’s eye. He laughed and blew him a kiss.

      “Don’t worry, Micki. There is always the next Olympics.”

      “Swimming well in national meets does not mean he will win the race to the Olympics,” Micki snarled.

      “Even if he doesn’t swim as well, he will be fast enough to beat your little fish!” Grigori chastised himself. His wife had warned him of the trouble he could get into by being so loud. Of course, Yuri would be chosen to represent, but he should not act so confident. Micki was dangerous, a man with the morals of a hyena.

      • • •

      Micki growled and got up from his chair. He walked over to the edge of the pool where Saviar, a resting swimmer, watched Yuri slice through the water in perfect form.

      Saviar often bragged that he was related to Genghis Khan, a fact he attempted to prove with an uneven tan from his cheap home tanning machine. He had said it so many times that he half believed it, although he forgot where he had heard it first. Most of his early teen years had been a blur of drugs, sniffing anything that got him high, and binge drinking. He might have heard it from his indulgent mother, who used to call him “my King Sav,” or the father he “accidentally” killed when he was twelve. Luckily, the authorities didn’t care about the accident, his father wasn’t anyone important and his mother, believing him, convinced them as much. She later sold everything so he could be a swimmer. Last he knew, she was homeless somewhere, not that he cared. Her attention grew boring, and without money to give him or even a house to do his laundry or cook his meals, he saw no use in keeping in touch.

      Saviar saw Micki coming towards him, so he pushed himself out of the water and headed to his towel. He made an “ick” noise as he caught a whiff of the dingy rag. Its appearance, once white, was now a mildew brown and as tattered as his coat laying in a crumpled pile by his feet. He quickly moved the smelly thing over his wet body, glancing angrily at Yuri swimming laps, as if somehow he were to blame for the towel’s sorry condition.

      Saviar was always broke. He mooched off patrons in bars and wasn’t past helping himself to any cash someone left on a table or in an open purse. But mostly, he liked to complain about how broke he was and the various people who were to blame for it. The bartender once told him that he’d have money for clothes and shit if he stayed home sometime instead of drinking and whoring every night. That was the last thing the man said through his perfect teeth, pieces of which were still working their way out of Saviar’s knuckle. Fuck anyone who dared to tell him what he should do. Except Micki, his trainer and manager. They both wanted the same things, and Micki was devious and ruthless, the perfect combination to get ahead.

      “Just look at him,” Saviar said as he stared at Yuri. “How can he possibly pass the drug tests? He must be bribing someone or maybe, sleeping with some whore at the swimming league.”

      He snickered at his own comment, threw the towel down, and picked up his jacket, which didn’t smell much better than his towel.

      Micki moved closer to Saviar so there were only a few inches between them.

      “Well then, we should do something about the situation, comrade,” Micki said, his voice a raspy whisper.

      “What do you have in mind?”

      “It’s something that will be very… decisive.”

      “Death is decisive.”

      “You understand me so well, Saviar,” Micki said, nodding.

      Micki hated Grigori as much as Saviar hated Yuri, and both were going to suffer in any of Micki’s plans.

      • • •

      After three hours, Yuri climbed out of the pool. Grigori grabbed Yuri’s towel and vigorously rubbed him dry.

      “It was a good practice today,” Grigori grinned.

      “Only fair. I was distracted.”

      “Being distracted is not the thing to do a week before an important race. You are so close, you can’t let yourself slip.” Grigori smiled. “Listen to me, lecturing like a wind-up toy, not like a friend. What’s on your mind, Yuri?”

      “It’s Anna. She is old enough to start primary school, but I don’t have the money to send her,” Yuri said, pulling on his gray sweat pants. He tugged firmly on the drawstring as the steam leaving his body warmed the cool cotton.

      “What school do you have in mind? I could help… a little bit.”

      “Uptown Moscow.”

      “CPAT! That is only for Corporate children, not for us peasants.”

      “I know. But her not having two parents, I want to make up for that. Where she goes to school will decide her entire future.”

      “You’re too young, Yuri. Eighteen and already the parent of a five-year-old. But your father would be so proud. He was a great man, and a great, great… friend.”

      Yuri smiled and clasped Grigori by the shoulders.

      “You have helped so much. I can’t tell you enough how much it means to me to have you in our life. You are our family.”

      Yuri replied with all the intensity of an oaf, “We are going to go to the Olympics this year; I know it. Maybe then the World Swimming Competition. If that happens, my sister will have a great future!”

      “And you can marry Ingra,” Grigori added, eyes twinkling.

      “She’ll marry me even if I don’t win.”

      “That’s what you think. Women that pretty need security.”

      A smile spread over Yuri’s face, “Actually, we are to be married on the Friday before the race.”

      Grigori grabbed Yuri exuberantly, lifting him off the ground in a solid bear hug. It felt like Yuri’s father was in Grigori’s embrace. The best friends had shared so much during their lifetime that maybe a bit had crossed over. The two laughed and headed to the main building for Yuri’s weight training.

      “You are sly as well as fast, Yuri.”

      “I know. Things are going to work out. I can feel it.”

      Yuri kept the smile on his face, but he actually didn’t feel as confident as he had sounded. The image of the bus stop woman’s sorrowful gaze nagged at him like a song stuck in his head, replaying over and over. The thought of it filled him with dread of what it could possibly mean. It is wise to never be optimistic in Russia.

      It was late when Yuri finally returned home. Hot, humid air greeted him as he opened the small apartment door. Beads of water condensed on the glass windows. It was always like this when anyone used the shower or tub. A stream of light came from the open door of the bathroom; it was still occupied. He could hear water shifting in the confines of the tub. Wrapped in a pale pink blanket with cartoon elephants, his little sister sucked on her thumb as she slept soundly in a small